Ally

We step into the lobby and wave at Jimmy. I start for the door, but I’m spun around and guided toward a back exit. He says, “See ya, Jimmy.”

“You heading to see Mrs. Everest by chance?”

We stop, and Hutton looks back. “We are.”

Jimmy rushes over with a large dish. “Do you mind returning this dish to her? The wife broke her ankle, and Mrs. Everest baked a casserole. I’ve already given her a thank you from the little missus. The food was delish, but if I don’t return this dish, I’ll get my ass kicked.” His eyes jet to mine, and he tips his hat. “Pardon my language, Ms. Edwards.”

“It’s fine.”

Hutton takes the dish from him. “I’ll return it for you, Jimmy. No worries. Hope your wife is recovering.”

“She is. Thanks.” The front door swings open, letting in a gust of warm air. “Change is in the air.”

“It sure is,” Hutton replies and looks at me before directing me in another direction. “There’s an elevator to the side we need to take.”

I watch as he enters a number code, and the cream metal door unlatches. Just inside the small room is an elevator. “Why are we here?”

“Safety. As you know, my brother is very well off, but he’s also well-known. With money comes . . . let’s just say there are people who would like to take that money away, and they’re not concerned with little things like lives.”

“You’re freaking me out. I don’t have security.”

“Margie really wasn’t security.”

“No, but having someone there looking out for me gave a sense of comfort.”

“I look out for you.”

The door opens, and we enter the elevator. “You do. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“It’s okay.” He sighs and presses his hand to a black pad. When the pad turns green, he pushes the button for the penthouse floor. “I know what you mean. The only reason I haven’t been worried about you is this is the safest building in Manhattan. Top-of-the-line technology has covered every detail. This elevator becomes a locked box if someone breaches the room downstairs. It won’t go up, and they can’t get out unless they know the code or have the proper clearance. Ethan’s security team would leave the intruder on lockdown in this box until the police arrived.”

A shiver runs up my spine. “This is more fortified than the palace.”

“Yeah, the danger is real for them, so there are three ways to access or exit the penthouse, and every option has different codes associated with it. This elevator. The stairs in case of a fire. And the last . . .” He shakes his head and chuckles. “I don’t even know the last way out. Top secret stuff.”

“Have they ever needed the last option?”

“Not yet, and let’s hope they never do.”

The door slides open, and my mouth follows suit. “Oh my God.”

A gallery hall painted black with large black and white-framed photographs greets us. “This is amazing,” I whisper. I’ve never seen anything so stunning. My pace slows, and I look at each of the photographs as I pass.

Hutton walks slightly ahead and nods toward one of the women with a smile that feels so personal as if a spy caught it on film without her knowledge. “This one is of Singer.”

“She’s beautiful.”

And then I hear a woman’s voice—full of bubble and life. “Hi. You’re early.”

Oh my. I guess everyone runs late around here. Hutton’s demeanor changes when he sees her; their affection for one another is obvious. There’s no tension in his shoulders, and he appears completely at ease. “Hi, we thought we were late.” He kisses her cheek, and they give a side hug.

Glancing back at me, he says, “I want to introduce you to someone.”

With her hair pulled back in a high ponytail, it swings when she moves around the corner. Wearing fitted jeans that hit right above the ankles and a pretty blue top that flows over what seems to be a tiny midsection, Singer Everest has such an ease in her beauty.

Staying close to Hutton’s side, she tugs at the hem of her shirt, and says, “I’m sorry, I guess it’s us running late. I didn’t have time to put on shoes. I thought it was Bennett. Now I’m a little embarrassed.” It’s not the first time I’ve made someone uncomfortable. The royal title tends to do that. One of the downsides of being a princess.

“No, please, it’s your home. You should be comfortable.”

Hutton switches and stands by me, one hand rubbing my lower back. “This is . . .” He pauses to look at me.

The question lingers, and the silence grows, so I shift the bowl to one arm, and say, “Ally,” and hold my hand out.

“Ally Edwards,” he follows. “Ally, this is my sister-in-law, Singer Everest.”

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she replies, taking my hand between hers. “Welcome. I’m so happy you and Hutton could join us for dinner tonight.”

“It’s great to be here and to finally meet you. Hutton has told me so many wonderful things about you.”

The rosy of her cheeks deepen, and she hits his arm, laughing. “How much did you pay her to say that, Hut?”

“Spoken of her own free will.”

I hold the bowl out. “I made Bavarian cream, and we brought strawberries to dip.”

“Wow, this is great. Looks delicious. I have a sweet tooth, so I might have to dig in now.”

“I won’t tell, but I will join you,” I say.

“I like her, Hutton.”

He winks at me, then asks, “Where’s Ethan?”

She turns and heads into a huge open concept living space, and says, “We were . . . ummm, working out. I took over the bathroom to get ready, so he had to wait. He’ll be out in a minute.”

We follow her into the kitchen. It’s similar to ours but probably three times the size. I catch myself as soon as I think it.

Ours.

I referenced his kitchen as ours. What is happening? I love Hutton, but am I willing to give up my life for his?

It’s only been twenty-four hours, but I really like this life. I clearly need more time to think, but now is not that time. “I met your husband in Austin in the spring.”

“He mentioned that. Oh!” Her hand covers her mouth, and her ponytail whips around. “I’m sorry. I don’t know the custom. Do I curtsy or bow to you?”

Hutton cracks up but forces me to answer. “This is not a formal event. This is Hutton’s family. I’m the same as everyone else.”

“I bow to my wife every night. That’s normal, right?” Ethan comes in with eyes only for Singer. Kissing her temple, he laughs. “You snuck out.”

Nodding her head toward us, she clears her throat. “We have guests, babe.”

Ethan, like Bennett, is shockingly handsome, but I glance at Hutton who takes hold of my hand. My heart begins to race, because I was once more focused on Hutton’s looks, but I see how his heart beats only for me. He’s still the best-looking man I’ve ever seen. That will never change.

Bumping against him, I lean on his arm and smile. Something about Ethan and Singer makes me feel like one of them. They don’t hold back or hide their affection for each other. They’re really captivating to watch, and I can’t help but wonder if this will be Hutton and me one day.

“Hey, where is everyone?” Bennett calls out when he arrives.

“In here,” Ethan says, coming over to me. “It’s good to see you again, Ally.”

And then I do what I never do. Without thinking, I hug him, and he kisses my cheek, breaking the protocol of greeting a royal in my country. “You too. Thank you for having me over.”

“Of course. It’s our pleasure. Wine?”

“I’d love a glass.” Bennett comes around the corner with beers in hand. Opening his arms wide, he says, “The fun has arrived. Oh shit, is this a double date thing?”

Hutton hits his brother’s chest. “You always made a good third wheel. Tonight you get to try on fifth.”

“Dude, that’s harsh,” he jokes as the men embrace with pats on the back. When Bennett sees me, he leans down and hugs me. “How are you, Princess?”

“I’m good, Bennett. How are you? How’s the jet lag?”

“I’m right as rain. Good as gold. I rise to the occasion. Beer?” His charisma gets your attention, but his good nature keeps it. I understand Marielle’s conflict. If he put as much effort into kissing her as he did the deal, she never stood a chance against the youngest Everest.

My stomach twists, thinking about my sister and my brother . . . and even my mother. What are they thinking? Why haven’t they contacted me? Sent someone to get me? Do they care? Do they worry what I might be going through?

Am I being erased from their lives like my father says they’ll remove me from the history of our country? As if I never existed . . .

“Ethan’s pouring wine,” I reply quickly so I can sink back into my concerns again. Does anyone even miss me? My mother has a cold side, but I’m still her daughter. My stomach twists as my heart squeezes.

“Of course, he is.” Bennett rolls his eyes. “Hut?”

“I’m drinking bourbon.”

The reunion carries on around me, and with family on my mind, I watch the interactions, the teasing, the brotherly love and hard time they dole out to each other. I watch how they are teddy bears to Singer, and even though she’s around my height, she’s ten feet tall in their eyes.

They love and respect her without a crown reminding them it’s necessary. It’s real. I’ve never seen my father look at my mother how Ethan looks at his wife. I’ve never seen a true interest shown in my mother when my father speaks to her. Hutton always speaks to me as if my answer matters.

This is what family is—the playful jibes, the celebration of little and big victories, the meaning of being a tribe displayed so openly.

The difference is stark.

Laughter and conversation go on around me as the group helps with the preparation of some part of dinner. The closest I ever had to this was with Birgit and Gerhart, two people who may not share the same bloodline, but share a piece of my heart all the same. Birgit was the only person to check on me each week when I was away for my studies. She’s the one who dried my tears when I caught my ex with Sabine Rosalie. She’s the one who made me clean up after I made a mess during a cooking lesson, claiming it was as important to the glory of the cooking.

Does she miss me? Does she even know I’m gone, exiled for the time being? Again. I miss her.

All the thinking I did last night hasn’t gotten me any closer to an answer. I know I want this camaraderie in my life. I want my children to experience closeness to me, their father, their family, and their friends. That’s what I was missing growing up. Stuck in the Stone Age of laws and formalities, I missed out on what family truly means.

Seeing me get lost in my thoughts, Hutton hooks a finger around the top of my jeans, and says, “Hey, come help me make the salad.”

I’m pulled to his side, pulled right into the middle of the chaos and into his family as if I always belonged.

Bennett picks up Singer and carries her to the end of the kitchen, setting her on a barstool. “Have a seat. You’ve done enough already. We’ll take over from here. What can I get ya, little lady?”

Singer’s laughing, but her eyes find me on the other side of Hutton. “See what you have to look forward to?”

I know it’s in jest, but I do see. I see how the brothers tease, but the love is constant and unfiltered. I see how Singer cares for them, anchoring them in one way and letting them soar to greater heights in another. But most of all, they don’t see me as a pot at the end of a rainbow. They treat me like I’m part of the family. And I love it . . . and never want to lose it. This. Them.