Reluctantly Royal (18 page)

Marty looked at Max and nodded his head.

“Okay, then.” Max stood up and held his hand out to Marty.

Marty accepted it before turning and holding his other hand out to me. I took it and looked at Max. Did he realize that we looked like a family? A complete unit? Did he understand that Marty had opened himself up to him?

Marty and I were both so vulnerable and Max had stepped in and become our shield during the storm. It was frightening and amazing how quickly it had happened. How quickly he had become part of our lives.

Max nodded his head once and his bright green eyes locked on mine.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” I whispered.

Together we walked through the church. It was full of people in black or gray. Some of the women wore hats, while others had chosen not to. They all had one thing in common, though. They turned to watch our little group make its way down the aisle.

Purposefully, I let my eyes sweep the room, never landing on the casket at the end of the walkway. I was scared to see if it had been left open or not. So I focused on other things.

I could see my father’s head in the first pew, where the family would sit. His gray hair was neatly combed and he was wearing a suit. Our butler, Gerard, sat a few rows behind him.

When we neared the front row, my father looked over his shoulder and stood up. Despite his sour expression, I was relieved. His eyes were clear, which meant he was sober. Or at least at a level where he could function normally.

“Hello,” I said. Marty’s fingers tightened on mine.

“Hello.” My father nodded his head at Max and then sat back down.

If he was anyone else’s father, they might have been bothered by the distant greeting. For me, it was a small victory. He hadn’t yelled at me, hadn’t threatened me, hadn’t caused a big scene. He had even spoken to me, when I had thought I’d be lucky to have him ignore us.

I took the seat next to my father, careful to keep a good distance between us. Marty sat next to me and Max sat on the other side of Marty. Samantha, Cathy, and Alex sat next to Max. Alex turned in his seat and greeted some of the people behind us. Shaking hands and being polite as people tried to get in a word with the heir to the throne.

When the minister stepped up to the podium, everyone began to quiet. I’d pushed to keep the ceremony simple. I didn’t want to have people sitting there for hours, listening to endless droning on about my grandfather. Most of the people in this room had never met the man. And while I’m sure their intentions had been good in coming, it still felt invasive. I should have insisted that we keep the funeral small and personal, but Rachel had felt that it would send the wrong message to the town that had accepted us back. Understanding her point, I’d relinquished my stance and agreed to having a “proper” royal burial. Complete with flowers, music, and a real minister.

A Bible verse was read, which would have made Granddad cringe. And for some reason, that made me smile. Just imagining his reaction made me feel closer to him. I could practically hear him saying, “Oy vey” and rolling his eyes. My dad shifted in his seat and I dared to look at him. That’s when I realized I hadn’t imagined my grandfather saying his favorite phrase, it had been my father. With a look of amusement, he shot me a small smile, and I realized that in that moment we were thinking the same thing. Oddly enough, that made the whole situation feel a little lighter. This little connection with my father. I didn’t forgive him for the way he’d been acting, the way he handled himself. But in a way, my grandfather linked us together.

A choir sang a hymn, the voices twining together through the rafters of the old church. Then the minister talked about Granddad, telling them about his life as a workingman, his love for his family and friends. He talked about how Granddad had fished with Marty, which made my son bury his face against my arm.

When it was almost time to sing, I took a deep breath and tried to gain my composure. It was like trying to grab silk line with oil-slathered hands. Feeling eyes on me, I looked to where Max was watching me. The light streaming through the stained-glass windows of the church splashed along his face, but it was his emerald gaze that held my attention.

I’m not sure what it was that passed between us, but it filled me with strength. If Max could come out and deal with the media, the spotlight, then I could get up and do what I did best.

“Lady Meredith is now going to sing a farewell to her beloved grandfather.”

I kissed Marty’s head and looked at Max. Without a word, he slid a casual arm around my son’s shoulders.

As I stood up and walked toward the dais, I let go of my nerves and slid into the quiet zone I retreated to before a show. This was the place where I found my voice, where I found myself.

The minister stepped forward and shook my hand before leaning forward and kissing my cheek.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I know that your grandfather loved you very much.” He squeezed my hands.

“Thank you.”

“The stage is yours, my lady. I’ve heard such wonderful things about your voice.” He smiled. “I’m sure your grandfather will be listening.”

“I hope so.” Letting go of his hands, I stepped up to the podium and looked out at the audience.

The church was filled with people, but I didn’t let that faze me. I’d sung for larger groups before. As the piano began to play, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

This was my farewell to a man who had taught me what family meant, to reach for my dreams, and never to take no for an answer.

This is for you, Granddad
.

Opening my mouth, I let the words fall out. I reached deep and sang with my heart, the pain that I felt echoed by the melody of the song. I’d chosen a more contemporary song, something that had become popular on the indie music circuit. I’d fallen in love with the words. It spoke of carrying that person’s love with you even if they were gone. Something about it touched my heart, and I wanted everyone in the room to feel it, too.

I didn’t look at anyone in particular as I sang. Instead I imagined Granddad standing in the aisle. I knew his eyes would be full of tears, because he always cried when I sang. It had started when I was little and in school, and even the last time I had been practicing while I visited for a Christmas holiday.

As the song neared its pinnacle I let my eyes run over the front pews. The local government was well represented, as were the local businesses. But then my eyes found my father as he watched with a stone face. I’d never understood why he hated my singing. He treated it with disgust, and at best, he ignored it. Marty watched me with a small smile, his perfect little face warming my heart.

As my eyes met Max’s, I almost stuttered. There was something in his expression that made me feel light. Pride and possession filled his face. I could practically feel his eyes like a gentle caress.

As the song drew to a close, I noticed that people were wiping at their cheeks and my pride swelled. Never had I sung better than I had for my grandfather. For the first time since finding out that Granddad had died, I felt as if I’d had my chance to say good-bye.

Stepping down from the podium, I went straight to Marty and hugged him, before taking my seat.

“You sounded great.” Marty hugged me tightly.

“Thank you, baby.” I kissed his head and looked up at Max.

When the choir began to sing, I looked back to the front and watched as the pallbearers took their spots around the coffin. Even my father strode up to the stage with steady steps. His face was a mask of confusion and pain. Seeing him struggle with reality without the aid of liquor was painful. It was obvious that he would rather be anywhere but here. And for a lot of reasons, I could agree with him.

Patrick looked pale, but determined. He stood just behind Max, whose face was composed into a vague sense of compassion. It was a practiced face, one that I’m sure he used for situations when he was uncomfortable, but needed to look the part. I felt bad that I had put him in that position, but I was even more grateful that he had agreed to do it. He had truly stepped up and helped my family.

He had helped me. Even when I begged him not to. Talk about being stubborn.

I watched as he walked with the others out of the church to the waiting cars outside. As a family, we were urged to stand and follow the casket. For the first time in my life I hated having everyone watch my every move. This was not the same as being on stage or performing. This was my real life—a painful moment in our family’s history.

Marty held my hand and I was grateful to have my new friends following behind us. It took some of the attention away from Marty and me. I stopped in the foyer of the building, next to the guest log, so that I could thank the people who had attended. It was a blur of faces and handshakes, well wishes and condolences. I looked over my shoulder to see Max throw me a guilty look, but he didn’t come to assist with the line. Instead I watched as he dipped into one of the cars. By the time it was over, I felt like I’d shaken every hand in Lilaria. And for some reason had a strong desire to wash my hands, or to dose them in hand sanitizer.

“My lady, your car is waiting.” Rachel touched my shoulder. “Her Highness, Princess Cathy, is already in the car with your son. I put some snacks inside for Marty and you. I figured you might be hungry, thirsty at least, after that long reception line.”

“Thank you, Rachel.” I looked at the woman. “You’ve been a huge help.”

Outside, the sky was at odds with the sorrow in my heart. Bright, puffy clouds floated in a clear blue sky, and I had to squint my eyes after being in the dark church for so long. Even from as far away as the photographers were, I could hear the whir and snaps of their cameras. Some of them called my name, but I kept my gaze down and continued on. Now was not the time for pictures or statements.

The driver opened the car door for me and I slid onto the back bench.

“Mom! Do you want some fizzy water?” Marty held up a green bottle of carbonated water.

“I think a regular water would be just fine.” I looked around the interior of the limousine and my eyes fell on Max.

“I hope you don’t mind if I ride with you.” He cocked his head to the side. “Cathy, Alex, and Sam are riding with your father.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.”

“I’m sorry I left you to deal with that line of people by yourself.” He leaned back in his seat. “I figured Marty could use some company.”

“And you hate lots of people staring at you.” My mouth twisted into a small smile.

“And I hate having lots of people staring at me.” He chuckled. “Makes me feel like a baboon at the zoo. People just looking at me because I have a title.” He mimed having the chills. “Can’t stand it.”

“I think you’ve done more than enough for this family.” I lowered my eyes and looked at my shoes. There was a small scuff on the left toe where a member of parliament had accidentally stepped on me.

“It’s been my pleasure.” His voice had lost its teasing quality and taken a turn for the serious. “And I’ll be here to help as long as you need me.”

What if that’s forever? The question came unbidden to my mind. Silently I berated myself. I couldn’t keep Max. I couldn’t, even though I was really starting to want to. Not just because of the way he made me feel, but because of the way he looked at Marty. There was love in his gaze when he looked at my son, kindness and amusement.

Looking out the window, I tried to focus on the tasks at hand. Now wasn’t the time to think about Max. Was it? Maybe it was natural that my mind sought something happier to fixate on. Was that all this was with Max?

I surreptitiously glanced in his direction. Had I slept with him just because I had needed something good? As I watched him talk to Marty and open a package of crackers for him, I knew it had been more than that. Max had infiltrated our family bubble, our lives . . . my heart.

I never would have imagined that I would fall for a prince who hated the limelight. Hell, I’d given up on love all together. I hadn’t been sure it actually existed. But here I was in the middle of it, completely confused by how I had gotten there.

And now I didn’t know what to do.

In the limo on the way to entomb my grandfather in an old family plot, I’d realized that I had fallen in love with a man, completely my opposite, in only a matter of days.

So I did what any sane person would do in a situation like that. I laughed.

Loudly. Until I started snorting, which made me laugh even more.

“Does she do this often?” Max asked Marty.

“Sometimes,” Marty replied. “She doesn’t usually make that weird pig noise though.”

I’d started to tear up I was laughing so hard. I was in love. Love. Me. In love. Jesus, no wonder I hadn’t kissed anyone in years. Apparently a good smack-a-roo was all it took to win my heart.

And I was in love with someone who would hate everything about the life I was trying to build. Living the life I wanted to live would be a type of torture for Max. I was in love. And I was completely stupid.

“Are you okay?” Max leaned forward and touched my knee.

“I—I am.” I covered my mouth and tried to rein myself in. If anyone saw me right now they would think I was insane. Which is probably what Max was wondering right that minute.

“Do you need anything?” He looked at me with worried eyes, but didn’t take his hand from my knee.

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just realized something.” I wiped at my cheeks and tried to shrug it off. Could I make it work? Could we make it work? Would he even want to try?

“Must’ve been funny.” He raised his eyebrows and grinned.

“Not really.” I shook my head. There was nothing funny about being in love. The last time I’d fallen in love, I’d ended up with a baby and a broken heart.

The look on his face made me giggle again. I guess my brain just refused to handle any more stress or hurt. How could I convince him that we could make it work? I kept Marty out of the spotlight. Surely I could keep a boyfriend from being overwhelmed, right?

“Maybe you’ll tell me someday.” He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.