Page 4 of Royals
But it isn’t the wind chimes that catch my eye as I pull into the driveway. It’s the big SUV parked behind my mom’s.
Suddenly, the photographer back at the Sur-N-Sav makes sense.
Chapter 3
I park my car off to the side of the SUV, and when I get out, I give a wave to the security guys. It’s always the same two when El and Alex come to the States, so I’ve gotten used to them. “Hi, Malcolm!” I call. “David, how’s it going?”
David, the younger of the two guys, lifts his bottle of water in acknowledgment while Malcolm just nods. As always, they’re in serious black suits, and I imagine that even with the air-conditioning in the car going full blast, they’re still dying. The heat is no joke, but Alexander doesn’t like bringing bodyguards into my parents’ house, so it’s the driveway for Malcolm and David.
“Still disappointed you guys don’t wear plaid suits,” I tell them as I pass by the car, and while Malcolm just keeps staring at the house through his shades, David cracks a smile.
My keys rattle in my hand as I jog up the steps of the porch to see the front door is open, but the glass door is closed. That means I get a second to see my sister and her boyfriend sitting on the couch, their posture perfect, before I come inside. Theylook as gorgeous and polished as ever, Ellie with her ankles crossed demurely, Alexander sitting on my mom’s floral couch like it’s a throne.
He always sits like that—maybe he’s practicing.
I think again about the guy taking pictures at the Sur-N-Sav and wonder if I need to mention that right off the bat. Ellie wasn’t thrilled about the prom pics thing (which, I mean, hi, neither was I, and honestly I thinkI’mthe one with cause to complain), and I’m not sure if I want to get into all that on top of dealing with this surprise visit from El and Alex.
Today’s Michael thing probably won’t even make the papers.
As soon as I walk into the house, El—who hasn’t seen me since Christmas—takes one look at my head and says, “Oh, Daisy, yourhair.” Her voice, as always, takes me by surprise. Even though we have British parents, neither El nor I picked up the accent. Then Ellie went away to university in the UK and came back sounding like a character fromDownton Abbey.
I lift a hand to tuck the bright red strands behind my ear, but then decide to heck with that, my hair isamazing.
Luckily, Alexander agrees (or at least pretends to) because he immediately says, “Personally, I approve, Daisy. Redheads, very popular in my family.”
He tousles his own reddish-blond hair with a smile, and I’m reminded why everyone in the world is pretty much in love with him. Prince Alexander James Lachlan Baird, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, next in line to become King of the Scots, is both cuteanda surprisingly nice guy. Definitely nicer than El.
“It’s her Little Mermaid hair,” my mom says, coming in from the kitchen with a full tray in her hands, complete withteapot and our nicest china cups. Before Ellie and Alexander happened, we didn’t even own nice china. Or a teapot for that matter. We made tea in mugs with water from the electric kettle.
But I get it—once their oldest daughter started dating a prince, fancy china seemed like the least they could do.
Mom sets the tray on the table, but no one makes a move to actually pour any tea, probably because while Alexander—and now El—live in cold, misty Scotland, this is Florida in May, which means the idea of drinking hot beverages seems insane, if not masochistic.
“Wasn’t it purple for a little while last year?” Ellie asks me now, and I raise my eyebrows at her.
“Did you really come all the way from bonny Scotland to interrogate me about my hair choices?”
Ellie’s nostrils flare a bit and she laces her fingers together between her knees. “It just seems like there’s always something new with you. That’s all I’m saying.”
I shrug. “I like trying different things.”
This is one of the major differences between me and Ellie—she’s been Princess Barbie since birth, pretty much. Me? I’m still... figuring things out. When Michael said music was “our thing” in the parking lot, he wasn’t wrong, exactly. When I’d dated him, I’d been super into learning to play the guitar, almost as intense about that as I’d been about origami lessons the year before. Or the art classes I took freshman year. But honestly, how are you supposed to know what you like unless youtrystuff?
Ellie says it’s “flighty,” but I think it’s fun, and before she can get going on that train of thought, I change the subject back toher, where it always ends up anyway. “I didn’t know y’all were coming.”
Mom is sitting in her wingback chair, so I flop in Dad’s recliner, and Ellie frowns a little.
My sister has always been one step away from having mice make dresses for her, but ever since she met Alexander, her Disney Princessness has been dialed up to eleven. While we both got Mom’s light hair, El’s was always shinier, more golden. Right now, it falls in soft waves to her shoulders, held back with a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. She’s wearing jeans, as is Alexander, but even those look fancy on them, probably because they’ve paired them with expensive leather loafers. Alexander is wearing a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, and El has on some kind of drapey navy blouse with little white polka dots all over it.
Basically, they look like they belong on a yacht, while I am wearing a T-shirt that says, “EVE WAS FRAMED.”
“It was a surprise!” Ellie says brightly, and Alexander flashes me and Mom a smile.
This is the unsettling thing about Ellie and Alexander. They spend so much of their life being public people that sometimes they act that way in private, too, so it can make you feel like they’re holding the world’s smallest press conference in the living room.
“And a lovely one, too,” my dad says, coming into the room. He’s wearing a pair of khaki shorts that started their life as pants, a few stray strings hanging down to his bony knees. El’s forehead creases a bit as she looks over his graying hair, whichis pulled back into a ponytail, and the paint that’s splattered all over his Pink Floyd T-shirt. Dad fancies himself an artist these days, although he’s not very good at it. But he gave up music ages ago, and as Mom points out, it’s good for him to have something that keeps him busy.
And for all that Ellie is clearly not impressed with Dad’s appearance, he’s kind of the reason she even met Alexander in the first place.
