Page 72 of Prince Charmless
“No, come on. My mom raised me right.”
“I guess you can cut up these strawberries.” She hands me a carton from the bag on the counter. “But only if you insist.”
I grab a knife from the block next to the sink and take the strawberries. “So, uh, where’s Taylor?”
“Somewhere in Nantucket Sound, probably. He went with Neil to the marina this morning.” Neil must be her husband. “Can I ask what you guys are doing? He’s never brought someone here before.”
He hasn’t?
“We aren’t doing anything.”
Although I’ll admit the state of our relationship has been getting murky with all the kissing and the whole being-invited-on-a-vacation-to-his-cousin’s-house thing.
Cassie nods, then hands me a cutting board and a bowl. “It’s the royal thing, isn’t it?”
I lean away from her. “What is?”
“The thing that’s getting in the way. I totally get it. Thankfully, I’m low-ranking enough that Neil or my children don’t get titles.” She puts a hand on her stomach. “I’d have no idea how to start that awkward conversation.”
“Are you expecting?” I ask because I want the topic to be changed.
Yeah, if Taylor wasn’t royal, I could maybe see him as being eligible. Instead, I brave America to torture myself. Perhaps things can be prevented from spiraling out of control if we keep our hands to ourselves.
“Yep,” she answers. “Enough now that I’m nauseous all the time. A couple of days ago, I got a bit queasy on the boat. I’venever been seasick in my life! Don’t tell Taylor this, by the way. It’s embarrassing.”
“How often do you see each other?”
“Twice a year, maybe. He’ll tease me for going ‘total yank’, but I think he just misses me.”
The screen door slams behind us.
Shorts. Taylor’s wearing shorts.
“I donotmiss you,” he says. He says while wearing shorts. They’re linen and khaki. “I only come here because you give me better weed than Alex does. Seriously, I don’t know where he finds the stuff.”
I’m too flustered by his legs (slightly hairy, toned to perfection) to ask about the aforementioned pot-smoking.
Wait, he smokes?
Cassie crosses her arms. “How legal is it to take marijuana across international borders?”
“Rules don’t apply to me, dear cousin. I am the elite.”
“You know what? I think after all these years, it has finally gone to your head.”
“Of course it’s gone to my head. I’m not the one eating birdseed and living in this sad little country no one’s ever heard of.”
She stares at him, annoyed, but I have to believe annoying people is just how Taylor shows his fondness.
He uses a hand to brush back the hair that’s fallen out of place during his seafaring, then steals a strawberry half I cut. “There’s a raccoon in your garbage by the way,” he adds before popping the fruit in his mouth. “Are they always that beefy?”
“Gus is back?” Cassie asks with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you shoo him away?”
After she scurries out the door, Taylor’s arm extends next to mine to fill up a glass of water. I watch his throat work as hedrinks through his five o’clock shadow. I don’t think he’s shaved in a while.
Stay strong, Melina.
“I actually like raccoons,” I say to acknowledge his presence. “They’re so American. Like buffalo wings, and prescription drug commercials, and garbage disposals.” I flip the switch next to Cassie’s sink. It gurgles accordingly.What am I doing?
