The Royals Next Door by Karina Halle

Nineteen

Giddy.

That’s the only word to describe what I feel like.

It’s probably one of our earliest emotions—I mean, what toddler hasn’t gotten giddy after a first bite of ice cream? What child hasn’t gotten giddy thinking about Disneyland? Or going on a pony ride? Or Christmas morning?

But as we get older, the giddiness fades. We become more cynical. The excitement, the increased heart rate, the swarmy, fizzy feeling in our stomach? It morphs into anxiety. We become nervous. The joy is removed, and all we’re left with is worry. The joy is something that belonged to the past, to when we were more innocent, when we had things to get excited and happy about.

So this, this giddiness, makes me feel like a child all over again. Like I’ve been reborn, picked up and washed off and polished to a shine and then set back down into this world.

All I can think about is Harrison. He’s taken over my thoughts and my heart and everything in between. But it’s more than that, more than how I’m thinking. It’s how I’m living. Like every waking moment I am bursting with impatient joy that’s bundled up inside and dying to get out. I want to kiss him, have sex with him, hold him, listen to him, stare at him. I want so much, and the kicker is that for once, I’m going to have it.

This is happening.

“Okay,” my mother says to me, appearing in my bathroom mirror as I’m putting on blush. It’s like a horror movie jump cut, and I whirl around to face her, my heart pounding.

“Jeez, Mom, don’t sneak up on a girl like that,” I tell her. I then notice she’s wearing a gauzy pink top with a statement necklace and black pants. “You look nice.”

“You look nice,” she says to me, nodding at my face. “A little too nice. You’re smiling nonstop.”

“I have to smile to do my blush.” I turn around to face the mirror and do a close-lipped smile, propping up my cheeks. I swirl the blush brush on them.

“You have been smiling all day,” she says, crossing her arms. “And yesterday too.”

“It’s summer. It’s a beautiful day. We’re both alive and in good health, we have this wonderful house, and the best doggo, and we’re about to have dinner with the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax. Give me one reason not to smile.”

She narrows her eyes as she studies me. “Uh-huh. What drugs are you on? You haven’t upped your medication, have you?”

“No,” I tell her, rolling my eyes.

“Didn’t think so. So then I’m going to assume this is all because of Mr. Cole.”

Do I have the strength to argue with her? No. I mean, I do, but I don’t want to argue with her. I’m too fucking giddy.

So I just shrug and stare at her in the mirror. “Life is good right now.”

“Because of Mr. Cole. Just look at you, Piper. You’re glowing.”

I look at myself. My eyes are wide and glossy and my skin looks alive, and it’s not just the blush or the highlighter. I look happy. Really happy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen myself look like this.

“Oh no. You’re not pregnant, are you?” she adds, aghast.

“No,” I say in a quick huff. “I’m not pregnant.” I pause. “And why would you even think that? I never said I was sleeping with him.”

Now it’s her time to roll her eyes. “You think I’m a fool, don’t you, dear?” Then she turns around and walks into my bedroom. “You better hurry up. We need to be there in ten minutes.”

This is a change. Usually my mom has zero concept of time. Perhaps things are evolving for the both of us.

Tonight is the dinner, and while I don’t think it will be any more formal than last time, that doesn’t help quell the excitement and nervousness in the air, at least when it comes to my mother. While I’m practically floating above the ground (giddiness makes you buoyant), my mother has been so anxious that she didn’t even bother making a dessert. We’re not heading over there empty-handed, however. I did manage to bring a bottle of local blackberry wine for after dinner, something I had been saving for a special occasion.

And what’s a better special occasion than this? Sure, it’s a normal dinner to everyone else, but to me, and hopefully to Harrison, this feels like a next step. I know our relationship is still under wraps and I don’t know how long it will have to stay that way, but I guess any excuse to be with him feels like something worth celebrating.

Which reminds me.

We’re almost to the mansion’s door when I pull my mom to a stop.

“Mom,” I say to her, my voice low. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” she says in a hush. Her eyes widen. “Oh, you really are pregnant!”

“No,” I say again. “I have an IUD, so that’s not happening. But whatever is happening between Harrison and I, it’s a secret, okay? Monica, Eddie, the housekeeper, none of them can know.”

She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because,” I tell her, “Monica specifically forbade it.”

“She specifically forbade it?”

“Okay, so she vaguely warned me about dating him. Or being with him. She said it would be a disaster and would reflect badly on her. Which I totally understand.”

Now that I’m saying this out loud, I realize what a shitty friend I’ve been to her. Because of course it would reflect badly on her. Everything does. If the media found out about Harrison and me, they would have a field day with it, and Harrison would get slammed for being unprofessional, even though it’s in his right to date a citizen (I think), and Monica would get dragged through the mud for having hired Harrison. Everything would come out, maybe even a look into Harrison’s past.

“Oh, sweetie,” my mother says, putting her hand on my cheek. “Don’t look so glum. I won’t say a word. I promise.”

I give her a quick smile of thanks but now find it impossible to shake off this feeling. There goes my giddiness. Shot down by reality in seconds flat.

I sigh, and we walk toward the door. I’m going to have to talk to Harrison about this when I get a chance. So far we’ve been so wrapped up in how we feel about each other and our own obstacles that I forgot that we might really hurt Monica by doing this, and that by doing this—sneaking around and keeping it a secret—we might be awful people. I know our conversation was meant to be between us, but even so I feel like Harrison should know what she said.

My mother rings the doorbell, and Agatha appears. We’re led into the house and to the lounge where Monica and Eddie have gathered. I don’t see Harrison, which makes me feel both disappointed and relieved.

“I’m so glad you were able to come,” Monica says.

“Please have a seat,” Eddie says, gesturing. “Agatha will bring you something to drink. What will you have?”

We settle in our seats, and both my mom and I ask for a glass of wine. My mother didn’t drink last time because of her medication, but this time seems different. My eyes are boring into hers, hoping she’ll give me some explanation, but she’s smiling and fixated on the royals. I just hope she can handle that one glass.

“So I was talking to Harrison last night,” Eddie says to me.

Oh god. Oh god.

“And he had mentioned that perhaps the both of us should get out of the house more. Can’t say I didn’t agree with him.”

“Speak for yourself,” Monica says. “I am quite happy in this glass-walled castle.” She gestures with her glass of sparkling water to the view.

Eddie chuckles and squeezes her hand. “Okay. Then I will speak for myself. Harrison said you mentioned a few places we could go, where we probably won’t be photographed, or at the very least, won’t be harassed by people. I understand a few photos are inevitable; it’s more about being given space and privacy.”

Harrison didn’t mention the lake, did he? Because that’s not exactly a good place for the royals to go. I mean, we could have gotten in trouble yesterday. It’s only luck that we didn’t.

Agatha hands me my wine, and I have a sip first, swallowing before I say, “I know of a few hikes and walks and quiet places to go. Some more adventurous than others.”

“See, darling,” Eddie says to Monica. “Doesn’t even have to be a hike. Just a walk. I think it would be good for you to get out of the house.”

“You know,” I tell them, “even if you wanted to look around town, I don’t think it would be the end of the world. I’m not sure if as much media is still here, and anyway, with James and Harrison, I don’t see how anyone could get close to you. And the locals, as zany as they are, won’t harass you, I know that much.”

“Are you sure about that?” Monica asks glumly. “My mother has been following the news. She says she’s seen a few interviews with the locals complaining about us being here. It’s more than just some article in the local newspaper.”

“But that comes with the territory,” Eddie says.

“And people complain about everything,” I tell her. “No one here likes change. That’s why they move here. To get away from all the change and come to a place where they can just be. But they also don’t realize, everyone needs to change. You can’t stay stagnant forever. You have to evolve and become more than just a static figure in your own life.”

Monica frowns, probably wondering why I’m getting philosophical all of a sudden. “Is that why you moved here?”

“Well, for the job.”

“That’s why I wanted to move here,” my mother speaks up, already having finished half the glass of wine. “Living in Victoria, I felt too pressured to improve myself, to fix myself. Coming here, people leave you alone. It’s an island in every sense of the word, letting you yourself become an island too. But I’ve come to realize, ever since you moved in, that you can’t hide and shrink for the rest of your life. You have to embrace change and welcome it, or you’ll never get better. If there’s no push, there is no growth, and that is the damn truth.”

I stare at my mother, openmouthed. I’ve never heard her say anything remotely like this before. I mean, this is pure Grade A therapy-speak here.

She gives me a quick look. “I’m allowed to have my own epiphanies, Piper,” she says. “The last few years, the both of us have become so tightly wound that we’ve become dependent on each other. It’s not just me being dependent on you. It’s the other way around too. Only now, with you spreading your wings a bit, I’ve been able to find my own footing. You worry about me, sweetie, and I don’t blame you. But you have to let me live and find my own growth too. On my own.”

Silence fills the room. My eyes start to water. It means so much to hear my mother say that, as shocking as it is, and especially with an audience.

“You are so very right, Evelyn,” Monica says gently. “I think we can all relate to that. I know I can. I am changing, in the biggest ways”—she rests her hands on her small bump—“to the smallest ways. And because I’m changing, I knew that would make me an easier target. But being here so far has made me realize I can’t hide forever. As much as I want to, as much as it truly has been needed to find myself, to rekindle our relationship as a couple, to prepare for the baby, as much as stepping back has brought such peace into our souls, I know that peace is fuel for the future. That it will help us handle what will be thrown our way. I can’t be afraid of change any more than you can.”

“So is that a yes to the hike or not?” Eddie asks.

We all laugh.

“Sure,” Monica says. “And Piper is right, maybe a walk through town will do us good. I’ve walked through fire; a little stroll can’t hurt us.” She bites her lip and looks down at her stomach. “Maybe it will be a good opportunity to tell the news.”

Eddie lets out a low whistle. “You can still hide your bump. Let’s think about that one first, because once word breaks out, then we’ll never be left alone.” He looks to me. “You say the locals won’t harass us, but when there’s big money for photos of a baby bump, things can change.”

“I know. But maybe you need to have faith in the place you moved to. Believe me, it’s hard at times, but I still know that most people are good. Once you feel comfortable here, once you start showing your face more, you’ll feel less like an outsider. They’ll see you as a local, as one of them—as much as you can be, anyway.”

Eddie seems to mull that over. I don’t know what the right answer is here, but I do know that there is a change in the air for every single one of us, change that has us second-guessing what we want and what the right thing to do is. But things are happening. Sooner or later we will all make our own leaps into the unknown and hopefully have enough faith to survive them.

Speaking of my own change, Harrison is still nowhere to be found. I don’t see James either, which I guess means Eddie and Monica fully trust my mother and me, which is nice. We’re no longer a threat; we’re actually their friends.

And look what you’re doing to your friend, I remind myself.

The guilt is hard to ignore.

Dinner turns out to be roasted Cornish game hen, which Agatha whipped up. Naturally, it’s delicious and lemony, and Agatha insists it’s an old family recipe on her mother’s side.

My mother has had two glasses of wine now and is a little loopy, but other than that, she’s been behaving herself, though she’s talking a lot.

“So, Piper,” Eddie says between mouthfuls. “Are you happy to have summer vacation, or are you itching to go back to work?”

“A little of both,” I admit.

“Piper never gets bored,” my mother speaks up, even though that’s totally untrue. “She reads a lot.”

“Oh. A fellow bibliophile,” Eddie says. “I love reading too. One good thing about stepping away from our royal duties is that I’ve found so much more time to read. What kind of books do you read?”

Here it comes. The question that every romance reader gets, followed by the internal struggle of whether to tell the truth, tell a lie, or water the truth down a bit. The romance stigma is still real, even with it being the most popular genre.

I decide to go for the truth.

“Romance,” I tell him, straightening in my seat. “Lots of romance. Historical, contemporary, romantic suspense. If there’s kissing and sex and swooning, I’m on it.”

“Ah,” he says. “I’m going to assume that’s more than Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“Fifty Shades opened up the doors for the whole industry. It got people reading. You can’t ever fault that.”

“Well, I like romance,” Monica says. “Sophie Kinsella is one of my favorites.”

I want to point out that even though I love Kinsella’s books too, they’re more women’s fiction (oh, how I dislike that term) than romance. But it doesn’t matter.

“Did you know that Piper has a podcast?” my mother suddenly says. “It’s about romance.”

My eyes go big. Oh my god, she didn’t.

She knows that’s a secret, doesn’t she?

Or maybe I’ve just never had any friends to keep the secret from.

“Mom,” I warn her. “Maybe you shouldn’t have any more wine.”

“Why?” she cries out defensively. “I’m fine, Piper. And why can’t I tell them about your podcast?” She smiles at Monica, thinking she’s helping. “It’s a romance podcast, you see.” Then she looks at me quizzically. “Actually, I was just talking about your podcast earlier, and I think I got the name wrong. It’s Romancing the Podcast, right? That’s what I told them.”

If my eyes were wide before, now they are practically falling out of my head. “What?” I cry out. “What are you talking about? Who is them?”

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.

“Them? Didn’t I tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I’m practically shouting. It’s then that I notice Harrison enter the room, looking grave. He meets my eyes for a moment and frowns, and I can’t read the look in his eyes. It’s like he’s worried about me and also worried about something else.

He pauses by Eddie while I wait for my mother to explain what the fuck is going on. It’s one thing to have her admit that I have a podcast in front of Monica and Eddie, especially when I actually did a podcast about them; it’s another to give the name so that they can check it out and allude to telling some “them” about it.

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie,” she says, her smile faltering a little. “I thought I told you. I swear I did. Maybe you didn’t hear me.” She looks apologetically at Monica and Eddie. “Someone called me earlier today asking questions about Piper. They were very interested in her. They said they were from some news site, I don’t remember who. I should have written it down.”

“Who? Why? Why would they ask questions about me?”

I glance at Harrison, who is staring at me with a grim expression. Shit. Does he know what this is about?

Icy fingers work their way through my gut, that sinking feeling.

“I don’t know, I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought I was helping. They sounded so nice. I told them all about you, about your podcast, but I think I got the name wrong.”

But she got the name right.

And podcast aside, why the hell is someone asking my mother about me?

“You told them all about me?” I ask incredulously.

“No, not everything,” she says. “Good heavens, I know you’ve had your share of troubles with me and your past. I didn’t say anything personal. I kept it all very light. I even told them that if they wanted to know more, they would have to talk to you. I gave them your number, but I’m guessing they didn’t call.”

My blood is whooshing so loud in my head that I barely hear her when she says, “I’m sorry, Piper. I thought I told you earlier. Guess I was so distracted about everything.”

Monica is watching me carefully. “I suppose the real question here is why someone wants to interview Piper. No offense, but if nothing happened after that article in the paper, I can’t see why someone would take an interest in you now.”

Harrison clears his throat loudly, bringing all eyes to him as he stands by Eddie at the head of the table. “I’m afraid I know the answer to that question.”

He gives me a look that says he’s sorry, and those icy fingers are practically turning me inside out.

Oh. No.

This is going to be bad.

“Well, what is it?” Eddie asks. “What’s going on?”

Harrison rubs his lips together and takes in a deep breath. That admission of vulnerability alone causes Monica to sit on the edge of her seat, her expression ping-ponging back and forth between us.

“There were some photographs published on Facebook this morning,” Harrison says. “I didn’t discover them until they were shared on TMZ.” He adds, looking mildly ashamed, “I get news alerts from them.”

“What photographs?” Monica asks.

But somehow I already know. I already know what he’s going to say, and things are about to get so much worse.

“Yesterday,” Harrison begins, “Piper took me into town. Except that she didn’t take me to town. She took me to a lake.”

NO. NO. NO.

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly, clearly confused.

“We went swimming at this lake,” Harrison says. “We were only gone for a couple of hours. Maybe we were in the lake for one.” He licks his lips and looks at me, and I can see how hard this is going to be on him, let alone me. I’m practically gripping the edge of the table. “The lake seems private, but there are some houses at the end of it. I guess someone in one of those houses was nearby and we didn’t see them. They took photos of us.”

“And? So?” Eddie says. Then he chuckles, “Were you naked or something?”

Harrison swallows. “I was.”

“Oh,” Monica says softly. She looks at me, her brows up, but doesn’t say anything.

“So they got a naked picture of you,” Eddie says carefully, glossing over the fact that Harrison was naked around me. “That’s not the end of the world.”

“Eddie,” Monica says, giving him a pointed look. “Harrison was naked. In a lake. With Piper. What do you think was happening?”

Eddie’s brow furrows as he thinks that over, then his eyes go wide. He looks at Harrison with a mixture of shock and, well, amusement, of all things. “You . . .” Eddie then nods at me. “And you?”

I keep my mouth shut. This is Harrison’s home turf right now, and I’m not about to open my mouth and make things worse.

“How long has this been going on?” Monica asks. She’s not looking at me, which hurts.

“Not long,” Harrison says, looking uncomfortable. “But I’m afraid our attempts to keep it a secret from you and the world haven’t worked. They took photos of us in the lake, looking particularly, uh, amorous.”

I put my face in my hands, wanting the ground to swallow me whole.

Pictures. Of me and Harrison. In the lake.

Having sex.

I mean, thank god they wouldn’t have been able to see anything since we were hidden by the water, but even so, the pictures are everywhere now. TMZ!

“I suppose they identified the both of you,” Eddie says.

“The original Facebook post was posted by someone who lives on the lake, angry that tourists were, uh, having sex in the lake. Though actually I feel they were more angry about us being in the lake in general, since we weren’t supposed to be there.”

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t take him to Lake Maxwell, did you?” my mother asks. “You know Bert has been very vocal about teenagers not going there.” Never mind the fact that we obviously aren’t teens, which makes it even worse. Adults who should have known better.

“Then,” Harrison continues with a weary sigh, “someone identified the two of us. I hate to say it, Piper, but it was that troublemaking bitch.”

My mother nearly spits out her mouthful of wine, collapsing into a coughing fit.

“Who?” Monica exclaims, looking just as shocked that Harrison called someone a bitch, as perfectly fitting as it is, considering I know he’s talking about Amy.

“It’s not important,” Harrison says. “But they IDed us, and the rest is history.” He clears his throat. “I understand if you both need a moment to come to terms with this,” he says, looking between Eddie and Monica. “I also understand that I may lose my job over this, and I am prepared to handle the consequences.”

“No,” I cry out. “No, Monica, Eddie. Please. Don’t fire him. He’s not in the wrong. I’m the one who took him to this lake, I’m the one who invited him. It was all me.”

Eddie gives me a long look, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Piper. I appreciate you vouching for Harrison, but it takes two to tango, and I find it impossible to think that you tricked him in some way, shape, or form.” He looks at Harrison. “I’m not going to fire you, you arse,” he says. “You’re a grown man. And you’re a good friend. I trust you with my life, which means I trust you in everything. There are no rules about who you can date or become romantically entangled with. You know that. Or perhaps you don’t, because it’s never come up. All the more reason why you probably needed this to happen.”

Eddie then glances at me. “And I’m sure you knew the risks too, being with a public figure. I can’t say I’m surprised that this is happening to you, but I’m still sorry for it all the same.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “As I said, I shouldn’t have taken the risk. I should have thought it through. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I look at Monica as I say the last bit, but she’s still not looking at me.

“I’ll say it again: this still isn’t the end of the world,” Eddie says, shrugging. “Perhaps the world could use a distraction in the form of Harrison’s arse.”

“How did you know they posted a picture of that?” Harrison asks. He then looks to me. “And while it may not be the end of the world for me, if someone is already calling up Mrs. Evans and asking questions, that means things might get a lot more complicated for Piper.”

He’s right, of course. But when it comes to pictures of me and Harrison together, I don’t see how anything could harm me, except an invasion of privacy.

“Mom, are you sure you didn’t say anything too damning?” I say to her. “You realize that the person who called was probably from a tabloid.”

“I swear I didn’t,” she says. “I guess this all makes sense now. You’re famous because of the pictures; now everyone wants to know who you are. You’re the mystery girl, Piper.”

Except that I wanted to stay the mystery girl. I’d been so focused on not upsetting Monica that I didn’t for a second think about how my being with Harrison would affect my life.

But really, what can they say? “Local schoolteacher enjoys fling with royal bodyguard”? Other than the expected slut-shaming and a new focus on me as a person of interest, is this really going to change things for me?

“So how should we handle this?” Harrison asks.

Eddie shrugs. “Well, I’m going to finish dinner. Then we can all retire to the deck, open a bottle of champagne, and celebrate the fact that you’ve found each other.” He looks to his wife with a smug look on his face. “I hate to say it, but, Mon, darling, you owe me money.”

She gives him a small smile.

They bet on this?

Dinner is over fairly quickly, and as everyone prepares to head outside with champagne glasses, I pull Monica to the side.

“Hey,” I say to her. “Look, I’m really sorry. I haven’t . . . we haven’t been sneaking around for very long, and I’ve felt so bad about keeping it a secret from you. I know what you said about us, and I should have run it past you first. I should have been open.”

“Piper,” she says softly, putting her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. And I should have never said anything to you about him before. It wasn’t my place.”

“You said it would reflect badly on you, and now it might.”

“I know what I said. But I was wrong to say it. I’m so used to thinking about myself that I didn’t stop to think about you or Harrison. Whatever you guys are doing, however you feel about each other, it’s okay. Whatever you do is your business, and if it reflects badly on us, then so what? People who hate will always find a reason. The both of you are great people who deserve someone great in your lives. I mean that.”

“You’re not mad?”

She shakes her head and plays with the pearl necklace around her neck, no doubt worth a fortune. “I’m not mad. But I do feel bad that you’re going to be in the public eye again. Let me tell you, those first sex photos will haunt you for the rest of your life. I should know—I had quite a few back in my day, before I met Eddie, of course.” A wicked smile flits across her lips. “Hell, maybe just enjoy it. After all, how many people can say that they had sex in a lake with Harrison Cole? You know he’s become quite the fan fiction hero.”

A knowing look passes between us, and I have a feeling I’m not the only one who has read them.

Monica goes out to the deck, but I excuse myself to use the washroom.

To be fair, I just want to look at the pictures in private.

I sit on the toilet, pull them up on TMZ, and flip through them.

They aren’t that bad. I mean, it does look like we’re having sex, even though the shots are a little grainy and shaky, obviously taken from far away. My top stays on in these pictures, thank god, since I know my breasts were exposed on a few occasions. It seems they caught us at the end of the act.

And then there’s the final picture, just as Eddie predicted, the both of us walking onto shore, Harrison completely naked, tattoos and bare butt on display. I have no doubt that if I checked Perez Hilton, I’d see him fawning all over Harrison’s gorgeous body right now. I have to say, it makes me feel uneasy to know that he’s being exploited, more so than I am.

The article is typical TMZ style, giving as much detail on who I am as possible. A local schoolteacher and next-door neighbor. Thankfully they don’t say anything shitty, though I’m sure that’s happening elsewhere in the world.

I exhale loudly and exit the page. It’s a gross feeling to know that the world knows your business, and this is a giant leap from my mention in the ShoreLine. The only thing I can do is hold my head high and not let it bother me. I knew Amy Mischky would throw me under the bus the first chance she got.

But if this is the worst she can do, then I can handle the worst.

I decide to check my email while I’m at it.

And that’s when I see a message from the school board.

My heart stops as I catch the subject line:

“You are under review.”