Page 23 of Royally Benevolent

“What does that make your sidekick? Neurotic Girl?”

“Oh, you’re far from neurotic, Odette,” I laughed. “Give yourself time and children to come into that level of concern.”

“I have enough neuroses for both of us, trust me.”

“You’re in good company, then.”

Odette looked me in the eyes, face going from happy to serious but not severe.

She squeezed my hand and said, “Don’t stop fighting for people, Wyatt. This place is beautiful, but it needs improvement. You’ve shown me that twice in the past month. The world needs more people like you. Don’t ever apologise for wanting to make it better.”

How did she know I needed to hear that?

I stammered, looking for the words as I held her hand in mine. We’d done this at the hotel when fleeing the scene, but how she cradled my hand in hers felt different. How did such asmallhand support mine like this?

“I… I won’t. But will I have your support as well, Odette?”

Odette brightened, looking at my hand in hers and pulled back. Her affection was genuine, but I suspected she had to behave well publicly. Holding my hand—even if it was just platonic—was overly familiar. Still, I’d enjoyed it. I shouldn’t have. It was an overstep.

Odette beamed. “Yes, of course.”

“Can we meet up to chat about the next steps?” I followed up.

“I’d love to,” Odie said. “Tell me what works. You’re the one with the kid. And I swear I am much more comfortable chatting in person. I didn’t mean to ghost you.”

“I get it,” I said. “Let’s meet up.”

13

NEXT STEPS

ODETTE

Ididn’t want to read into what shouldn’t be a thing. My heart fluttered. Watching Wyatt playing with Theo made him even sweeter. Theo alone had my heart. He was precious. I loved kids—especially ones at that age. They could express themselves but still had adorable baby voices. If Wyatt wanted to meet, I had no choice but to oblige him, right?

“How do I… reach you?” Wyatt asked.

“Just call me.”

“You have a cell phone?”

I giggled. “Yes, Wyatt.”

I did not mention that we weren’t allowed to use cell phones in the past. Our abusive grandmother, Celeste the Jailer, forbade any communication with the outside world. I hated telling those stories.

I freed my phone from my jacket pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over assertively. I was more than willing to insist a mantextme. I’d have him put his number in my phone, too. This was my chance to take back the narrative.

“Cool,” Wyatt tapped away to add his number, smiling as he returned the phone.

I found “Wyatt” andtexted him a hello.

He looked down at his phone and chuckled. “Thanks.”

“Text me what works,” I said. “I understand kids and their bedtimes take precedence. We all work around Alex and Rick’s schedule. And their schedule works around the kids.”

“Really?”

“Believe it or not, they’re standard issue parents with extra help. But Alexandra and Rick put a lot of emphasis on the kids having them around more than they don’t. So, it matters to them—and the rest of us even if we don’t have little ones of our own yet.”

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