Page 67 of Prince Material
“We’ll deal with that when we have to.”
I very much preferred to stick my head in the sand when it came to that, thank you very much.
“I’ll miss you,” he whispered after a long pause, almost too soft for me to hear.
I couldn’t stop myself. “I’ll miss you too.”
I lay there for a long time, listening to the quiet of the dorm, to the wind howling at the windows, to Floris breathing. I lay there, letting the warmth fill me up. Letting myself hope. Maybe it could last.
Maybe.
21
FLORIS
Our traditional Christmas brunch at home had always been one of the highlights of the year for me, but this time, I struggled to get into the Christmas spirit. It wasn’t for a lack of effort. The kitchen staff had outdone themselves, and the table was decked out with festive decorations like holly and pine garlands, twinkling lights, and red and green table settings. The food was beautifully arranged on platters and dishes, showcasing the various kinds of freshly baked bread, pancakes, smoked salmon, different kinds of deli meats, cheese, fresh fruit, and of course, akerststol, the traditional Christmas bread with almond paste in the center.
It even smelled amazing. The delightful aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the scents of freshly baked croissants and the unique smell of fresh pine trees. We always got real Christmas trees, dug out with roots intact and replanted two days after Christmas. Better for the environment, my mom insisted, plus so much nicer than fake trees. She had a point.
But I wasn’t in a festive mood. I usually loved hanging outwith my parents and my brother and his fiancée, Maaike. They were engaged for six months now and had dated for two years before taking this step. Somehow, they had managed to keep their relationship private for the first few months. I liked her. She was sweet and funny, but she also knew when to put her foot down, which my brother needed from time to time.
So yes, I genuinely liked spending time with my family. We didn’t get to do that nearly often enough, so when we had a whole day to ourselves without any public obligations, it was a luxury. But my thoughts kept drifting to Orson.
I missed him. I missed his wild curls in the morning and how he always had bed head no matter how much he tried to tame it. I missed his quiet intensity when he studied, the way his brow would furrow in concentration and how he’d absently push his glasses up his nose. Most of all, I missed those rare moments when he’d let his guard down completely: his unexpected laugh that transformed his whole face, the way his eyes lit up when talking about historical architecture, how he’d unconsciously lean into me when we watched movies together.
Even the little things felt like missing puzzle pieces in my day. The way he’d wordlessly hand me coffee in the morning, somehow always knowing exactly when I needed it. His exasperated sighs when I left my laundry in the dryer too long, though he’d still bring it up to our room. The soft, private smile he saved just for me when he thought no one else was looking. Three weeks apart felt like an eternity, and it had only been a few days. Somehow every hour without him stretched endlessly.
“You’re awfully quiet this morning,” Mom said, passing me the bread basket. “Everything okay?”
I forced a smile, taking a slice of the Christmas bread without really seeing it. “Just tired, Mama.”
“Tired?” Laurens arched an eyebrow from across the table. “You? On Christmas morning? Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”
Maaike elbowed him gently. “Leave him alone. He’s probably missing his friends from college.”
If only she knew. I caught Laurens’s knowing look and quickly focused on buttering my bread.
“How’s Tore doing?” Dad asked. “Have you talked to him?”
I nodded. “We spoke briefly yesterday. He’s still trying to come to terms with it all.”
His uncle, King Ragnar of Norway, had died unexpectedly after a massive heart attack in public. Uncle Friso and Aunt Annette had flown in for the solemn and somber funeral and I had changed my flight home into one to Norway. I’d barely seen Tore, but I’d been there, and that mattered. Greg and Nils had shown up too, and we’d stayed together.
“He was so young,” Mom said. She shot my father a look. “You’d better take good care of yourself, Marc. You’re almost the same age.”
I could see the protest on my father’s lips, but it died just as quickly, probably because he realized how deeply worried she was. “You know I will,lieve schat.”
The conversation continued, but my thoughts drifted again. Was Orson awake yet? Probably not, considering the time difference. What was Christmas morning like at his house? I imagined him still sleepy-eyed, wild curls even messier than usual, maybe wearing that soft, green sweater that brought out the gold flecks in his eyes…
“Floris?” Dad’s voice pulled me back to reality. “Your mother asked you a question.”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked how your finals went,” Mom repeated patiently. There was something in her expression, a maternal intuitionthat made me wonder if she could read more into my distraction than I wanted her to.
“Oh. Good. Really good, actually.” Thanks largely to Orson’s patient tutoring and ability to explain complex concepts in ways that actually made sense. “The civil engineering program at Vernon Tech is excellent.”
“And life in America? How are you liking that?” Maaike asked.
