Page 84 of The Prince and the Puck
EPILOGUE: DECK
PRINCELY DOINGS
It turnedout that having a hockey-playing prince from a small island nation on your team equated to excellent PR fodder. Lizzy was swamped with requests for interviews, and Coach Merritt made sure I gave them happily. Most of the time, they were fun, light-hearted fluff pieces with Princess Eliza on my arm to give her perspective as well.
Relations between King Lambert and the United States had also begun to grow, and while there were no formal trade agreements or meaningful treaties signed, I was finding more and more people had heard of my home country, and for some reason that made it feel much closer than it had for years.
Add to that the visit Mom and Dad made toward the end of the Wombats’ season, and the great schism in my life—and my identity—had all but disappeared.
“Son, this is a lovely building,” my mother said as Lizzy and I welcomed my parents to our home. “Are you sure you can spare an entire floor for us though?”
“We can,” Lizzy said with a smile. “Having a guest floor is a great benefit of the building, and since there aren’t a lot of occupants, it’s very quiet here.”
“Unless there’s stuff happening on the hockey floor,” I pointed out. “But that’s below you.”
“There is a hockey floor?” Dad asked, looking confused.
I lifted a shoulder. Since being back, the building had evolved. We did have a few tenants, plus security, but that left a lot of floors vacant. Lizzy had converted one into a training gym where she and I worked out along with the security staff we employed. I also converted one into a man cave of sorts, but Lizzy and her friends seemed to spend as much time there as I did with mine. That floor was filled with pool tables, arcade sized video games, and lots of comfortable—non-squeaking—couches.
But the crowning glory was the hockey floor. We’d gutted the apartment, removed as many walls as possible, and replaced the flooring with a product called synthetic ice. Lizzy hadn’t believed it was possible, but I’d actually created a room that would allow me to practice skating and shooting. It was here that I finally got my parents on skates for the first time. Of course, having been born and raised on Murdan, where ice rinks are not very practical given the weather, neither of them had ever stood on ice before.
“Son,” Dad said, wobbling around the floor like a toddler on his first day at skate camp. “I have a whole new appreciation for what you do out there.”
“This feels patently unsafe,” my mother said, though she was taking to the skates much faster than Dad was.
Lizzy skated past them, turning to skate backwards in front of my dad for a moment. “You’re doing great, King Erik!”
“It’s just Erik now, Lizzy,” Mom reminded her.
Lizzy blushed. “You’ll always be the king and queen to me,” she said. “It’s hard to break a habit like that.”
The Wombats had a fantastic season, but didn’t make it to the playoffs, so after our final game, we put together a gathering to crown the season. Mom and Dad were still in town, so they came along to Klaus Arndt’s house this time. Mom and Dad were impressed with the house, and also with the matching celebrity-named dogs.
“Thank you so much for including us,” Mom said to Coach Merritt as everyone lounged and hung out in the back yard under the heat lamps hanging from the overhang. Spring was just settling in, sending brightly colored blooms out to cover the trees and greening up lawns and beds that had gone dormant during the cold winter, but the evening still held a little chill and half the team was gathered in Arndt’s kitchen around the massive marble island.
“It’s a real pleasure to host royalty at a Wombats gathering,” Coach said, looking between my parents.
“We host royalty at every practice, Coach,” Rock reminded him, pointing at me. “And it’s a real pain in the ass,” he went on.
“Yeah,” Sly Remington joined in. “The constant demands for tea and crumpets, the never-ending waiting while he shines up his tiara…”
“Has he asked you to wait while he polishes his royal hockey stick yet?” Dad asked, clearly trying to join in. His question was met with stunned silence as the players around us tried to decide what exactly my father was referring to. Did former kings make dick jokes?
And then Mom burst out laughing. “Crude, Erik. Very crude.”
The dam seemed to break then, and everyone let themselves laugh at Dad’s inappropriate joke. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” he said with a grin. Dad had relaxed a lot since letting my brother take his place on the throne, and I loved seeing this side of him.
Wilma scuttled out from the side of the yard just then, and he headed straight for Coach. “This damn thing,” Coach Merritt yelled, leaping onto a stool and pulling his legs up. “I swear, he has it out for me!”
Joey followed the wombat and picked him up, cuddling him to her chest. “Sorry about that, Coach. He loves you. You’re his favorite.”
“Great.”
In reality, being a prince hadn’t changed much about the way the team acted around me. John had pulled me aside when we’d gotten back though. “When you told me about your childhood, I had no idea this was what you meant,” he laughed.
“Sorry,” I said. “I wanted to tell you.”
He just slapped me on the back and leaned into my shoulder with his own.
