The Royals Next Door by Karina Halle

Twenty-Two

Three months later

“Miss Evans, I think I’m going to be sick.”

I look up from my desk to see Cinder Graves approaching my desk, a hand at her mouth.

Yes, her name is Cinder. Short for Cinderella.

Yes, her older brother is my student from last year, Nicky Graves.

Yes, she’s about to hurl. It runs in the family.

I quickly kick the wastebasket over to her and look away just before she vomits. It’s gross, all right, but my handbag is safely tucked away (and actually it’s a hand-me-down from Monica. Since she’s moving away in a couple of days, she’s been unloading a lot of her designer stuff on me. I promised myself I would keep them safe and not bring them to school, but this one is Gucci with butterflies on it, and it makes me happy).

When Cinder is done, I send her to the nurse’s office, knowing she’ll be back here in an hour, ready to learn. Some kids are allergic to school, I swear.

Me, though, I’m enjoying it more than ever. Not that I didn’t before, but after this summer, I feel like I’m really hitting my stride. I’m bonding more with the students and their parents, trying to give them more individualized attention. Plus, I’ve been a lot more social. Oh, I’m still a hermit most evenings, just cuddling up with Harrison on the couch (you can still hermit with someone else, right?), but I’ve been spending a lot more time with both Cynthia and Georgia and become friends with some of their crew as well. As much as I complained about the lack of community and being an outsider, I knew that unless I was putting myself out there one hundred percent, I wasn’t one to talk.

After the bell rings, I head over to Cynthia’s classroom to say goodbye, making a date to have a girls’ night at her house over the weekend, then I head across the school parking lot to where Harrison is just pulling in with the SUV.

Don’t worry, I still have the Garbage Pail. Or should I say, it’s at least in the family. My mom drives it when she feels like visiting Bert, who may or may not be her boyfriend. It’s hard to tell. She says that after you get divorced, you’re allowed to have friends without putting a label on it, and I think that’s smart considering the hell she went through with my dad.

But I also know that when I mention his name, she gets that damn twinkle in her eye. It says a lot without her having to say anything.

I open the door to the SUV and get in the passenger side. Harrison, looking as sexy as ever in a black denim jacket and those ever-present aviators, leans over and gives me a lingering kiss.

“How was school?” he asks me as we pull away.

“Good, good. The old me would have had her purse puked in.”

“Ah. One of those days, then.”

“Wouldn’t trade it in for anything. How are you doing?” I ask.

He gives me a quick smile. “I’m all right.”

While work has been great for me, Harrison’s been going through some things.

The biggest one is that Monica and Eddie are moving back to England. Monica is six months pregnant and is set to go home before it gets too complicated to fly, so she can have her baby back there.

I’m terribly sad that they’re leaving. Both of them, but Monica especially, have become such good friends over the summer that it’s going to be hard not to have them next door. From weekly dinner parties with my mom—and then later with Bert—to Netflix and gossip sessions on the boat, to hikes and the occasional dinner in town (with the entire world watching), there was always something to do, always something to look forward to. I’ve been getting teary-eyed thinking about it these last few days, and I know it’s really going to hurt when they’re gone.

But for Harrison, it’s far more complicated. Not only are Eddie and Monica his friends, and the people he had sworn to protect, but he’s stepped down as bodyguard.

Actually, it happened about a month ago, when Eddie and Monica first announced when they were leaving. Harrison and I had a big, long talk about what to do next, and as much as I love him, I was fully prepared to have to say goodbye to him. I wasn’t about to make him choose between his job and me, especially when so much of his guilt over his past was tied to it.

To my surprise, that’s exactly why Harrison chose to stay. He said he didn’t want to be tied to a job where he felt he was in it only to reconcile with himself and to make amends. That wasn’t fair to himself, and it kept him in a never-ending cycle.

Besides, it’s not what he wants to do with his life.

Harrison’s dream shouldn’t come as a surprise. He wants to open a bakery. In fact, he’s been in talks with one of the more prominent bakeries in town, which is in the midst of selling. I’m not sure he can make this deal work, but he’s been trying every day to find just the right place, then set up his business.

“No luck with the bakery?” I ask him. Their asking price is quite high, even for an established spot, so Harrison was hoping he could get them to come down.

He shrugs. “They said no. Might not be in the cards.”

“You’ll get there,” I tell him. “Maybe that’s not the space for you, maybe you’re meant to have a better location. Maybe the timing isn’t right.”

“That’s a lot of maybes, Piper.”

“But you know it’s true. It’s going to happen. Just have faith.”

He grumbles something and concentrates on driving.

Even if he doesn’t have faith, I do. He’s amazing at baking. He’s been literally working on it nonstop, perfecting his technique, and I’ve gained a solid ten pounds because of it. Not that I’m complaining. I’ll handle those ten pounds if I can keep eating the delicious treats that he makes. But honestly, he’s good. He’s a pro. He just needs the right shop and his business is going to take right off.

He often asks me how I can be so sure, but I just point to him and tell him he’s got to start doing TikTok baking recipes. But shirtless.

He hasn’t listened to me on that one yet. Doesn’t matter, though: Harrison is a media darling, especially after the news of us went public. With my speech going viral, combined with the protective incident at the Blowhole and the whole sex-in-the-lake thing (and naked butt pictures), plus adding in the years of fanfic and people generally lusting over him, Harrison Cole is literally one of the most searched people on the internet. Even though his whole baking dream is a secret for now, once we get the business plan approved and buy the right place, people will be lining up at our door from all over.

And the locals too. That viral video of mine may have enamored the public to us as a couple, but it also made me a local celebrity. It gave a boost to my podcast, inspired me to start a romance book club at our very inclusive, super awesome local library, and helped create a sense of camaraderie on the island. Of course there are always going to be the naysayers, but they’re less tolerated now that people realize that having each other’s back is truly what makes this place sing.

We pull into the driveway, no more SUVs or media vans parked on the street (though things did get a little crazy after Monica announced her pregnancy), and drive up to the royals’ house.

There’s a large van outside that two movers in dark suits (I’m guessing specially hired British people) are moving furniture into. Monica had said they wanted to ship a lot of things via freight back home. I’m starting to think there won’t be much left of the house after this.

“I wonder what’s going to happen to this place?” I ask Harrison wistfully as we step out of the car.

He walks over to me and grabs my hand. “You don’t see us living here one day?”

I give him an incredulous look and snort. “No. Do you?”

He nods, squinting at the house. “I do. You have to dream big, Piper. No reason why this can’t be ours.”

“Uh, because it costs millions of dollars.”

“That’s why I said to dream big,” he says, pulling me toward him. He cups my face in his hands and peers at me with soft, inquisitive eyes. “You know I’ll buy it for us one day. We’ll move in here. Your mother will live next door.”

“What about Liza?” I ask, touched by how sincere he is.

“She can run around and choose,” he says. “We’ll put doggy doors on each house.”

I kiss the inside of his hand. “And where are you getting this money from? You never told me that being a PPO was so lucrative.”

“It’s not,” he says. “But you did say that TikTok videos are the next big thing.”

“You’re kidding me!” I smack his arm.

He just grins. “As I said, dream big.”

I think he’s probably joking about doing his whole naked-baker thing, but you never know. At the very least, he’s thinking to the future.

And he’s making sure I’m in it.

We head over to the door that’s already open and step through. There are boxes absolutely everywhere, and we catch a glimpse of Agatha scurrying in the background.

“Hello?” Harrison says as we make our way through the halls.

“They’re just outside,” James says as he steps in from around the corner, nodding at the deck. He lowers his voice. “Between you and me, I think the moving is getting to them. Monica has been a bit weepy all day.”

“Thanks, mate,” Harrison says, slapping James on the shoulder. Since Harrison stepped down, James stepped up. He was a natural replacement. Those tree guys are still somewhere, I presume, unless they headed home to London already. They have me wondering what they’ll do with no giant firs and cedars to hide in. Rappel down old buildings and statues?

We head out onto the deck. It’s mid-October and it’s chilly, but there’s something so cozy about it. The leaves on the maples have turned gold and orange; the grass is high and tan, flowing in the sea breeze like wheat; and fog hugs the shore. I wrap my cardigan around me tighter and go over to Monica, who is sitting down and buried under a million layers of fleece.

Her eyes are puffy—James was right about that—and she’s so huge even at six months that she can barely get up.

“Stay,” I tell her, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re warm enough?”

“She better be,” Eddie says, dressed in a flannel jacket and toque pulled down on his head. “Otherwise we’re heading inside.”

“I’m fine,” Monica snaps, and then adjusts herself. “I have a hot-water bottle at my back. It’s doing wonders.”

“Care for a glass of wine?” Eddie asks us.

“I’ll take a red,” Harrison says, heading for the doors. “Piper?”

“Yes, please. I’m off the clock.”

“Harrison, please sit down. Agatha will get it,” Eddie admonishes him.

“Agatha is running around like a chicken with her head cut off,” Harrison says, disappearing inside. He only moved in with me a month ago, so he had a long enough time here, with this place as his home. It’s normal for him to help himself to their always stocked fridge and bar.

“So how are you doing?” I ask Monica, perching on the deck chair beside her. “You doing okay?”

She nods, and then a tear runs down her cheek. She hastily wipes it away before resting her head in her hands. “I’m fine,” she sobs.

I put my hand on her back and rub it reassuringly, looking to Eddie for advice.

“She’s been feeling extra emotional,” Eddie explains patiently, taking a sip of his wine. “It’s the hormones; it’s the move.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Monica wails, suddenly pulling me into a hug. I brace myself against the chair so I don’t fall onto her.

“Mon, don’t kill her,” Eddie says.

“Sorry,” she mumbles into me, not letting go. “I’m really going to miss you, Piper.”

Okay, I hate goodbyes, so I’ve been pretending this whole time that she’s really not going anywhere or that she’s just going for a short while and will come back. But now she’s crying and giving me no choice but to face the music.

Shit.

I’m crying now too.

“I’ll come visit,” I tell her, though honestly, how will that be possible? Are they allowed to have normal people as friends? It’s not like I can just drop by the palace or wherever they end up living.

“I know, but it’s not the same,” she says, pulling back. She waves her arms at the ocean. “I’m going to miss this too. Miss being here next to you.” She turns her head to see Harrison walking out with the wine. “And Harrison. Harrison, my man. How am I going to get on without you?”

Harrison seems a little taken aback to find us having emotional meltdowns, but he takes it in stride. He hands me my drink. “You’re going to be just fine. You have Eddie. He does all right most of the time.”

“Thanks, man,” Eddie says.

Harrison winks at him. “You’re welcome.”

“But things back home are so scary,” she says. “So busy. So noisy. I just want to stay in this fog forever.”

“Look, the fog is lovely and October is always nice here,” I tell her. “But soon it will be November, which is rainy and cold and awful. December is saved only by Christmas. Then there’s January, which is the absolute worst. You’ll pray for snow to break up the monotony of the rain and the gloom and the fact that it gets pitch black at four thirty p.m., but the snow never comes. Believe me, you are better off in the city with people and bright lights and all those things.” I pause. “And, you know, you’re royalty, and you’ll be in a palace, so that helps too.”

“Besides,” Eddie says, “the other day you said you were craving noise and people and chaos. Which means it’s the right time to go.”

Monica sighs and wipes her tears with the heel of her palm, her lower lip pouting. “I guess so. Doesn’t mean I’m not sad about it.”

“We’re all sad about it,” Harrison speaks up. He clears his throat, looking thoughtfully at them. “The two of you are the only people I’ve really known for such a long time. There was the army, and then there was Eddie, and then there was you, Monica. To be honest, I’m having trouble myself coming to terms with what’s happening.” He glances at me and gives me a warm smile, the kind of smile that makes my heart leap. “I’ve talked about this with Piper a lot. She knows I want to stay. That I’m choosing my new life here. But that new life is still scary, and it’s going to be different. And I wish you could stay here in this house for as long as you can, but I understand that you can’t. You’re doing what’s best for you both, and what’s best for the baby.”

Monica sniffles. “Damn it, Harrison. Don’t make me cry again.”

“Technically you never stopped,” he points out.

“Oh,” she grumbles, waving him away dismissively.

“Hey, come on,” Eddie says, walking toward us. “I didn’t invite you both here so we could sit around and cry all night. I invited you here so we could celebrate. Say goodbye to the old times, welcome in the new beginnings. And get rightly smashed.”

He raises his glass of wine.

We raise ours.

Monica raises her mug of tea.

“To the best next-door neighbors a girl could ever hope for,” I say to them. “Despite the men in trees, and the paparazzi camping outside the gate, to throwing this handsome, grumpy, sunglass-wearing mystery man my way, I couldn’t have asked for a more eventful summer. You changed my life. And it won’t feel quite like home without you both next door. All I know is that I am immensely grateful that you brought Harrison into my life. At least I get to keep him.”

Harrison puts his arm around my waist and kisses the top of my head. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

“He’s not joking,” Eddie says with a laugh. “The man will become your shadow—you’ll never be able to shake him.”

I grin up at Harrison. “I’m counting on it.”