The Royals Next Door by Karina Halle

Twelve

The warm summer air and the sudden distance between us lets my brain stop focusing on him so much, but unfortunately that means it starts focusing on the pub.

Harrison gets out of the car and walks around to me.

“Are you going to give me a rundown of what to expect?”

I shrug as we walk across the gravel lot. “It’s just a small-town pub.”

“I figured that,” he says. “But in regard to your ex. Isn’t that why I’m here?”

He’s right. But he’s also here because I want him to be here.

He goes on. “If you’re wanting it to look like we’re together, like a couple—”

“No, no, no,” I say quickly. “That’s not it at all.”

“Because I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he adds, and some tiny part of my heart is crushed. “People know who I am. Maybe not in that pub, but elsewhere in the world, they do. I can’t be in there, my arm around you, pretending you’re my girlfriend when the media could easily get wind of it. My credibility would be destroyed, and they would drag Eddie and Monica through the dirt. They’re always waiting for the first opportunity.”

“I totally get it,” I tell him, even though I’m reeling a bit. “So you’re never allowed to date anyone, ever?”

He gives a quick shrug with one shoulder. “I’m free to do what I want. But I have to face the consequences. And if I was seen with you in that way, when it’s likely known by now that you’re a local, and a neighbor, it wouldn’t be good. It would seem highly unprofessional to them, regardless of how I’d personally feel about it.”

My eyes widen. And . . . how do you feel about it? I want to ask. I want to shake him and yell at him and get an answer, an answer to a question I didn’t even know existed.

Instead I just nod, pausing outside the doors and out of earshot of the people smoking. “I don’t want anyone to think anything. I just want to show up because I never do. I’ve lived here for long enough, and yet I barely belong. I’ve been sheltering myself because I’ve been too afraid of getting to know people, of letting them know me. Even when I was with Joey, I had made him my world and no one else. It’s what I do when I’m in a relationship, and maybe that’s normal, but when you’re in a toxic relationship, it’s unhealthy. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a healthy one . . .” I trail off, looking down at my flip-flops, the chipped aqua nail polish on my toes. “I know this probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. It barely makes sense to me.”

“I understand more than you think,” he says. “Come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

He opens the door for me, and I walk in.

The place is packed. The opening band has already started, playing a cover of “Pour Some Sugar on Me,” and waitresses are bustling past us with trays of flat beer and fish and chips.

“Where do you want to sit?” I ask Harrison, having to raise my voice over the music, noticing that a lot of people are looking over at us, women in particular. I don’t look at them long enough to see if I know them.

“Wherever you like,” he says.

With the live music, most of the patrons are crowded near the stage in the upper portion of the pub, but being here is more about making an appearance, not being subjected to the drunk and sweaty masses, so I head toward the patio overlooking the marina, where I spot a table for two in the corner.

“Wasn’t the point of coming here to be seen?” Harrison says as he pulls out the chair for me to sit down. I mean, who does that? The English might.

“Thank you,” I say to him, touched by how ridiculously gentlemanly he’s being. I sit. “The loud music gives me anxiety. Being out here still counts.”

Particularly when I see none other than my favorite person, Amy Mischky, by the server station. I guess she has two jobs, and if I left the house more often, I’d have known that. She’s staring at me and Harrison before she gathers our menus.

I quickly smooth my hair around my face and give her a big, bright smile as she comes over.

“Hello,” I say to her.

“Hey,” she says, frowning at me, then ogles Harrison. “Didn’t think you’d show up.”

Ah, see, there’s the rub.

“Who could pass up the invite?” I say with a happy shrug.

She purses her lips for a moment, studying me, probably thinking lots of unkind thoughts. “Know what you’re having to drink?”

“The menus would be a helpful start,” Harrison says.

Ha! I love snarky Harrison.

Amy narrows her eyes at him for a split second, then pastes a very phony smile on her face. “Of course.” She drops the menus on the table and walks away.

“Love that you said that,” I say to him.

“If she’s as bad at serving as she is as a barista, this is going to be a long night.”

I take a menu. “That’s a sign that you haven’t been fully integrated into island life. Island life means that it’s everyone’s first day on the job, always. Just be happy they show up.”

He shakes his head, a touch of an amused smile on his lips as he looks over his menu. “To be honest, I’m not sure how you do it.”

“To be fair, it’s not like you have to deal with the public much.”

“Even so, the lack of efficiency is excruciating to me.”

“You get used to it. Just gotta go with the flow. That means stop worrying about things you can’t control.”

“I’m not worried. Controlled is a preference.”

“I think you’re getting preferences and needs mixed up.”

“I know the difference,” he says mildly, flipping the menu over. “Can’t remember the last time I had a beer.”

“Really? You make a pretty poor Brit.”

“Rightly so,” he says, twisting in his seat to wave over Amy.

She comes over reluctantly and stands in front of us, her hand on her hip. “So, what will it be?”

Harrison nods at me to go first.

“I’ll have a water and a Corona Light,” I say.

“I’ll have a brown ale.”

“Just the drinks, then,” she says, reaching to take the menus away.

Harrison places his palm down on them. “Haven’t decided yet,” he says in a polite yet firm voice, adding a flash of a smile at the end.

Amy’s either stunned by his smile or intimidated by his direction, and she blinks at him for a moment, her mouth dropping open until she manages to say, “Of course.”

She goes on to another table, Harrison watching her with a sneer to his lips. “I don’t like her,” he says, turning back to me. “She’s bad news.”

“Well, she comes from a long line of bad news,” I tell him. “Her mother is one of those people who writes editorials to the local newspaper, complaining about tourism or protesting against cell phone service or that a man she doesn’t even know is cutting down too many trees on his property. I’m actually shocked that she hasn’t written about you guys yet. I can’t imagine your being here has been a smooth transition for everyone else.”

“I hadn’t considered that,” Harrison muses, squinting at the sun. I know he’s dying to put on his sunglasses, but for some reason he hasn’t yet. “I’d just been so focused on you.”

I’d just been so focused on you.

That’s what he just said.

I hate that some part of me is absolutely melting, just the notion that someone has been paying attention, and that that someone is him.

His gaze goes over the marina. “I guess staying holed up at the house, we haven’t really been out and about to see how people feel about us.”

Okay, so either he’s skirting over it, that he’s been focused on me, or he doesn’t realize what he’s said. It’s hard to get a read on him because his eyes are taking in the boats. He doesn’t look exactly relaxed, but then again, he never does.

“All I know is, there is more media here because of you.”

“Well, I don’t see them here tonight,” he points out.

I look around. That’s true. Wherever the media hides out, it isn’t here.

“Maybe they all left. With Bert and then James patrolling out there, and with Monica and Eddie never leaving the house, maybe they gave up.”

“That’s what they want you to think,” he says, tapping his temple. “Tricky bastards.”

Amy comes back with our drinks and plunks them down in a hurry, doesn’t bother to ask us what we want, which is just as well, since I haven’t even looked at the menu.

“Cheers,” I say to Harrison, squeezing the lime slice through the bottleneck and then holding up my beer. “Here’s to a night on the town.”

That gets a smile out of him. “Cheers to that.”

We clink, and I manage to maintain eye contact with him as I sip my beer. Then someone by the doors catches my eye.

Shit.

It’s Joey.

I mean, I obviously came here hoping to see him, but more like I hoped he would see me from afar and be like, Oh, Piper, she’s obviously not afraid to be out and about, guess I didn’t ruin her like I thought. Something along those lines. And then he would just play his awful music and stay away.

But no, he’s walking over to me, not staying away.

I sit up straighter, put a stiff smile on my face, and it’s enough that Harrison looks behind him. When he looks back at me, his brows are raised expectantly. I recall what Harrison said on the dock about wanting to break Joey’s nose and hope it hasn’t come to that yet.

“Pipes,” Joey says, standing in front of our table, his arms crossed. He’s got this cheesy, smug look on his face, and I have to wonder why I ever found him attractive. Oh right, it’s because he was an aloof commitment-phobe and I figured that was what I deserved.

“Joey,” I say to him. Then I smile and point my beer at Harrison. “This is Harrison. I don’t think you were formally introduced last time.”

“Oh right, hey, man,” Joey says, holding out his hand. “You’re the visitor.”

“That’s me,” Harrison says, shaking Joey’s hand and absolutely crushing it.

Joey is trying so hard not to wince, I cover my mouth with my beer to hide my delight.

He pulls his hand away, offering a crooked smile. “Wow. That’s some handshake.” Joey looks at me. “Where did you find this guy, Pipes? The MMA?”

Intensity radiates from Harrison’s eyes. “Not quite,” he says in a low voice, the kind of voice that should tell Joey he’s on thin ice.

“Do they even have the MMA in Britain? You’re British, right? Would have expected you to have more of a Jason Statham kind of voice. You know. Like this.” And he proceeds to do a terrible impression of Jason Statham, like Michael Caine on steroids.

Oh Joey, please shut up.

“No, I don’t know,” Harrison says carefully, staring at him now with full-on menace. “I’m sorry, what’s your name again?”

“Joey.”

“And you’re Piper’s . . . what, friend?”

Harrison knows what he’s doing. Joey blinks at him, taken aback, like he can’t believe I haven’t told Harrison about him. I can see he’s thinking back to the café, wondering if Harrison had overheard the part about me leaving him at the altar, but I love that Harrison is pretending otherwise.

“No,” he says, and then shoots me a glance. “Well, yes. I’d say she’s my friend. We have a complicated history.”

“I see,” Harrison says. “It’s good to meet Piper’s friends. I hope they all treat her as dearly as I do.”

“Right,” Joey says slowly. “Anyway, my band is playing a set in ten minutes or so. You should come inside and see. Don’t worry, Amy will hold your table out here.”

“We’ll see,” I tell Joey, and then wave at the water. “It’s just so nice out here, shame to be inside.”

Joey looks disappointed. Good. He walks away, and I sigh.

“Please don’t tell me you still have feelings for that wanker,” Harrison says, finishing the rest of his beer in one gulp.

A choked laugh escapes me. “Are you kidding? No. Hell no.”

Harrison seems to brood over that for a moment, then gets up.

“Where are you going?” I ask, fearing he’s leaving.

“Going to go place an order at the bar. I don’t trust our waitress. What would you like?”

“I’m not drinking anything other than this,” I say, waving the beer bottle at him.

He lightly taps the table with his fist. “Be right back.”

I watch as he walks off into the pub. I really hope he’s not going in there to do something stupid. Not that he’s ever struck me as the brash and reckless type; he’s been the opposite. But he is drinking when he doesn’t seem to normally, and maybe there’s a side of Harrison that comes loose.

So I sit there, nursing my beer, watching sailboats dock and tourists going to and fro, and trying not to worry about him.

Finally he returns, double-fisting two dark beers. Instead of looking triumphant, however, he just looks annoyed.

“Took you long enough,” I tell him.

“I had a shot of whisky,” he says, sitting down, the beers spilling over the edge of the glass.

“You what?” I stare at him.

“I had a shot of whisky,” he repeats, fixing his eyes on me, almost as a challenge. He doesn’t seem like he’s had a shot of whisky and a beer already; his gaze is as sharp and as clear as ever. But I’m still surprised he’s taken this turn.

“Making up for lost time?” I ask.

“Something like that,” he says. “Your ex is up onstage. Sure you don’t want to go in there and watch?”

“No, thank you,” I tell him. “In fact, when you’re done with those beers, we can leave.”

He frowns at me, his blue-green eyes growing more intense. “So soon?”

“You actually want to stay?”

He shrugs and palms his pint. “Why not? You dragged me out here, I’ve had the first drinks I’ve had in months. Dare I say I’m actually enjoying this?”

I wave my fingers at him. “This is you enjoying something?”

He gives me a crooked grin and then has a hearty gulp of his beer. “You can’t tell?”

Well, since he wants to stay and I’ve got him mostly alone and feeling a little looser, I decide to start my investigation into Harrison’s secretive backstory.

“So, tell me,” I begin, sitting back in my chair. “When was the last time you had a day off?”

He sips his beer and ponders that for a moment. “I honestly can’t remember.”

“I’m guessing when Monica and Eddie asked you to come with them to Canada, you didn’t have many reasons to say no.”

“Not particularly.”

“Any family?”

A darkness washes over his eyes, and he averts his gaze from mine, staring down at beer #2. Something tells me that wasn’t a harmless question.

“A mother. A younger brother and sister. They’re back in London.”

“Did your father skip out too?”

“I never knew him. But yes. Knocked up my mom and that was it. Then my mom got knocked up by two other guys, had my siblings. None of them stuck around, so it was up to me to help my mom raise them.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. I’m not. It’s just life. Managed to finish high school, then went straight to the army. Figured it was the easiest way to support everyone.”

“They must be very proud of you.”

He shrugs lightly, his brow furrowing. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know. It’s hard to keep in touch with them, but I try. And send them money too, my mum particularly. She’s had a tough go with life.”

“So you were in the army a long time.”

He nods. “Was the best decision I ever made. It kept me in line, made me stand up straight and take responsibility. You probably wouldn’t believe that I was a bit of a wanker when I was young. Shit disturber, always in trouble. Drinking, drugs, you name it. I suppose it was me rebelling at having to act like a father at such a young age. Going into the army kept me from a dark and dirty fate.”

Every little piece of himself that Harrison reveals feels like a gift and a revelation. It all makes so much sense now. His cool, calm, and collected demeanor, his need to be in control. He couldn’t be better suited for his job, but it might explain why he’s so devoted to it. He’s afraid to slip up.

I hope he’s not slipping up now. He’s just finished his second beer and is halfway through number three. Maybe eating something is a good idea.

“Have you ever had duck wings before?” I ask, picking up the menu. “They’re amazing here. So is their fish and chips. Freshly caught halibut.”

He gives me a wry look as he takes his menu. “You getting paid to say that?”

“Hey, I’m big on food. If a place has good food, I’ll shout it from the rooftops.”

His eyes flick over the menu. “Then I’m surprised that you’re not out and about here more often.”

“I guess you can say both of us desperately needed a night out, then. Maybe I’m coming to realize I can’t stay a hermit forever.”

“Can’t live in fear,” Harrison says, his voice dropping a register. “But that’s easier said than done. Isn’t it?”

I mull that over while Harrison flags down Amy again and we put in an order for a pound of duck wings, plus another beer and a highball of Scotch for Harrison. I’ve decided I have zero business telling him what he can and can’t drink. He’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions. And I was the one who insisted he come with me, and he did.

Besides, I’m still thinking about what he said. About the fear. And that there’s a moment when fear no longer serves you, no longer protects you. It harms you and holds you back. I might be at one of those thresholds, where my desire to keep myself and my mother safe from harm, specifically the harm of others’ opinions and thoughts, might actually do more damage in the long run. I can’t speak for my mother and how she feels, but I think it’s healthier for me to put myself out there, even if there’s a chance doing so might hurt me.

Amy comes back with the beer and whisky first, and by the time she brings the duck wings, Harrison is already done with his drinks and is ordering another round.

And he’s starting to look a little drunk. His eyes have lost that intensity, seem a little unfocused.

“Don’t worry about me,” Harrison says, his brow lined as he looks me over. “I see your worrying all over your face.”

I try to make my face look as smooth as possible. “I’m not worried,” I say brightly, lying. “Maybe you’re not used to me wearing this much makeup.”

“You’re right. I’m not.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.

“Let me guess: You think I look better without all of it?”

“I think you look beautiful either way.”

Whoa.

My eyes go round, but he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s said.

He’s drunk, I remind myself.

Though don’t drunk people speak the truth?

Beer goggles, I counter.

And then Joey comes out of the pub, striding across the patio toward us.

“Duck wings, nice,” he says, nodding at the plate. “Always a favorite.” He gives me a pointed look. “You didn’t come to see me play, did you?”

“I didn’t even notice your band was playing,” I tell him honestly. “Sounded a lot like the band before.”

I can practically see his hackles go up. That bothers him. He hates the cover band, thinks it’s beneath a musician to cover other people’s music, even though I know he plays a few covers as well.

He looks to Harrison. “Hey, you know what? We were just talking about you. I know who you are.”

Harrison glances up at him, squinting. “And?”

“You’re the bodyguard. To the prince and princess or whoever they are. On Scott Point, right beside Piper. This all makes so much sense now.”

“What do you mean?” I ask sharply.

Joey laughs and points at me and then at Harrison. “I mean, come on. I knew you guys weren’t a couple; that made no sense at all. Figures that you’re her bodyguard or something, though honestly I don’t know why anyone would bother pestering Piper here. She’s just a schoolteacher, no one important.”

There are so many infuriating things to unpack with that spiel that I can’t even say anything and just stew in my burning, indignant anger.

“Why wouldn’t we be a couple?” Harrison asks, his voice so steely and calm that any sane person would hightail it out of here.

Not dense, ignorant, righteous Joey. “Well, sir, I don’t normally compliment another man, but you’re definitely out of her league.” He shoots me a faux sad look. “No offense, Piper. You’re just, you know, and he’s just . . . well, I don’t think you’d be leaving him at the altar like you did to me.”

And there it is.

His words hit me like a slap in the face and then sink to the pit of my stomach, turning over in knots, then fire back up like I’m a fucking volcano.

I jump to my feet, the chair knocking back, and yell, “You’re the one who cheated on me during your bachelor party! I didn’t leave you at the altar. I called it off earlier because I found out that you were a cheating asshole!”

“Sure. Keep telling people that. No one in this town believes you. Except maybe this guy, if he’s dumber than he looks.” He jerks his thumb at Harrison.

And Harrison is quicker than a lightning bolt. In one fast, smooth move, he reaches out and grasps Joey’s thumb with one large hand, squeezing it, ready to snap it in two.

Joey lets out a squeal, and now everyone on the patio is looking at us.

“Is this how you treat all your customers?” Harrison snarls at him, the venom in his voice and in his eyes unmistakable. “By calling them dumb? Is that how you run your business?”

“Let go of me,” Joey pleads, sniveling and pathetic. “Let go of me. You have no idea who I am, who my family is.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck who your family is,” Harrison says. “But I will let go of you.” He releases Joey’s thumb, and Joey snatches it to his chest, cradling it. “And if you ever insult me or Piper again, or any other customer who has come in here on a Friday night to give you business, then I’ll make sure the world knows about it. See, your island is small. But my world? It’s bigger than you can even imagine. Now, if you want to save your bloody pub, I’d apologize, and mean it, and then wipe our bill clean.”

With everyone here watching, and knowing that the pub is full of tourists who don’t give a rat’s ass about his family’s history on the island, Joey is trapped.

He looks at me, and I glare right back at him as he says, “Sorry, Piper.”

He can barely make eye contact with Harrison. I don’t blame him. “And I’m sorry to you. The bill is on me. Whatever else you want is on the house.” Joey waves Amy over. “Amy will take care of you.”

“Better late than never,” Harrison mumbles under his breath.

Joey then walks quickly out of the patio, avoiding the eyes of the customers as he passes by. Amy, on her best behavior and with a nervous smile plastered on her face, takes Harrison’s order for a double of Scotch.

When she leaves, I let out a long, shaky breath, staring at Harrison with a mix of trepidation and awe. “I thought you were going to kill him.”

Harrison closes his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose. “I wanted to.”

“You stayed in control.”

He nods. “Barely.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “He deserves so much worse than what he got.”

“I know. But humiliating him is just as good.”

“The nerve he has to talk to you like that . . .”

“Like I said, I know my assholes.”

“I don’t understand how you could have been engaged to him.”

I give him a tight, sad smile. “I didn’t understand until my therapist explained why. Since then, I’ve been single. Guess I’m too afraid of making the same mistake. Too afraid of being attracted to the wrong people. Least I know the warning signs now.”

“And what are those?”

“Someone who’s handsome, controlling, emotionally unavailable.”

Something in my words must strike a chord with him, because he flinches slightly. “That sounds a lot like me. Especially the handsome part.”

“At least you can admit you’re emotionally unavailable.”

“Just what I’ve been told,” he says, and then starts looking around. “Where is that drink?”

With that slightly awkward blip over, the rest of our night at the Blowhole passes uneventfully. I talk a lot about my mom, and the other assholes I dated, and the work I did with my therapist, and my complex PTSD and everything like that, while Harrison listens and drinks. And drinks, and drinks.

Soon I know it’s time to leave. He’s slurring his words and wavering slightly in his chair.

“Okay, time to go, I think,” I tell him softly, getting to my feet.

Harrison grumbles something and then gets up, and for a moment I think he’s about to keel over. I go to him and take his arm, pulling him across the patio and leading him out of the pub.

It takes a bit of effort to get him in the car. It’s feeling more and more like I’m trying to see how many clowns can fit in a Volkswagen, and while I’m driving us home, he passes out, his head against the window.

Shit. What a night. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would end up like this, with Harrison getting shitfaced and threatening to break Joey’s thumb and ruin his restaurant. In a way I’m glad it happened, because Joey needed to be put in his place, especially after he was so insulting to the both of us, but I can’t help but feel a little uneasy that this is going to come back to bite us in the ass in some way. In small towns, but especially on an island, word travels fast.

A little too fast.

With the gate fob at the ready, we pull past the SUV and then up the driveway, Harrison suddenly stirring.

“No,” he says, slurring. “Don’t take me back. I don’t want them to see me like this.”

I pause and then reverse back down the driveway and turn left into mine, coming to a park.

“You just need to sleep this off,” I tell him, getting out of the car. “Come on.”

I go over to his side, open the door, and start to pull him out of the car. He doesn’t come easy. When he gets to his feet, there’s a lot of his weight leaning on my shoulders, his arm around me for balance, and it feels like I’m trying to stop a giant boulder from rolling down the hill.

We stagger up to the house and open the door. My mother’s bedroom door is closed. Liza is probably in there with her, which is good. She doesn’t need to see this and worry.

We make our way to my bedroom, and I lead Harrison to the bed, where he keels over facedown.

I then unlace and pull off his boots, noting his brightly colored yellow socks, and take a throw blanket from the easy chair and toss it over him. I get a glass of water and some Advil from the kitchen and put it by the bedside table. He’s already asleep and snoring lightly.

I pause, taking a moment to really look at him, his massive frame making my queen-size bed look like a single. This mysterious broody man, my next-door neighbor, finally feels like someone I could really get to know.

I just hope that tonight doesn’t change him, doesn’t make him take two steps back to make up for this one tiny step forward.

I close the door. I grab extra blankets from the linen closet, then go to sleep on the couch.