Page 86 of Reign
Not that she expected to hear from her family. They’d all been silent since her cover was blown, probably livid that she’d been spotted in such an undignified and unroyal setting. Some of the tabloids had reported Sam’s return with predictably cruel headlines, likeHot Mess Express!Samantha Back in Town Sporting a Regrettable Haircut!andPrincess No More, and Wow Does She Look It!
But Sam had been surprised by how much positive press she’d received, too. As she kept on living her ordinary life, more videos surfaced of her doing normal-person things: taking the metro, ordering coffee at a chain restaurant where she waited in line like everyone else, counting out bills at the register. Even if the tabloids mocked her, there were plenty of bloggers who praised her for “shopping with the people.”
When the news broke, Sam had worried that the group of roommates might ask her to leave; but they’d mainly just been bewildered or amused. When Sam had asked if they had any questions, Jessica had immediately jumped in to say, “Are you going to dye your hair now? Because you really can’t pull off blond.” At which Sam had laughed and asked if Jessica would help her change it back.
The only disappointment was that she couldn’t keep tending bar anymore: it was too big a security risk, for her and for everyone at Enclave. When Sam had begged for work anyway, the manager had agreed to let her help Amber backstage, so at least she kept busy.
As their car pulled out of the driveway, Sam’s phone rang, and she immediately bent down for her purse. What if it was Marshall, calling from Hawaii?
To her shock, the caller ID saidBeatrice.
“Sam?” Her sister sounded relieved that she’d answered.“I saw that you brought over presents. Thank you for doing that.”
“Of course.” Sam covered the phone with her hand and mouthedBeatrice,and Liam put the car back in park.
“You’re coming for dinner tonight, right? It’s Christmas Eve,” Beatrice reminded her.
“I don’t…” Sam blinked, uncertain what to say.
Reading her confusion as agreement, Beatrice said, “Great. I’ll see you soon,” and hung up.
“Everything okay?” Liam asked, once Sam had lowered the phone.
“Beatrice just invited me to Christmas Eve dinner.”
“And this is…a bad thing?”
“I was kind of excited to meet your family,” Sam said, dodging the question.
Liam didn’t let her get away with it. “You can meet my family anytime. This is exactly what you wanted: the chance to make up with your siblings and fight to get your titles back. Why are you hesitating?”
Because things weren’t clear-cut anymore. Sam loved her family, but she was also building a life outside their orbit—a real life, not a fantasy existence like the one in Hawaii. She was learning to stand on her own right here in Washington, not as Martha but as herself. It had forced her to stretch and grow beyond the person she’d been into a new person that she was still discovering.
“It’ll be awkward” was what she told Liam.
“Isn’t that what family holidays are all about? Enforced quality time and awkwardness?” Liam shrugged. “I haven’t felt at home at my parents’ house in years. My room is like a time capsule from high school and I have to share a bathroomwith my brother and his wife and the walls are way too thin. But it’s not about that; it’s about the people.”
Sam knew he was right. “If I go, promise me one thing. You’ll take me to see your high school time capsule another time?”
Liam grinned. “I’ll send you a photo with my angsty teen posters in the background. Deal?”
When Sam showed up at the palace in the nicest dress she had thought to grab from her old closet—a black velvet one with an asymmetrical bow on the shoulder—a security guard was there to welcome her. The palace operated with a skeleton staff at the holidays, no footmen or maids, but there was always someone at the door, at least.
“It’s good to see you, Miss Samantha,” he said gruffly.
So she wasMiss Samanthanow. Sam wondered who had decided that.
It was strange how much had changed in the past weeks. The palace looked the same as it always did at Christmas—the enormous tree in the ballroom, sourced from somewhere in the forests of Maryland or Virginia, and then the smaller tree in the family’s private living room that was decorated with personal touches, including papier-mâché or clay ornaments that the siblings had made in elementary school. The same garland wound up the main front staircase, the same mistletoe hung from the crystal chandelier in the entry hall. Yet it felt curiously unfamiliar to Sam, as if she no longer belonged here.
Had she everreallybelonged here?
Her family was all gathered in the living room, clutching tumblers of whiskey sour, which dug a bittersweet pang intoSam’s heart because that was her dad’s signature drink. She glanced around the room and saw that Aunt Margaret was here from Orange, along with her husband, Nate, and Sam’s uncle Richard and aunt Evelyn with their two children.
Daphne, who looked as perfect as always in a cranberry-red cocktail dress, was the first to look up and notice Sam. She must have made a small noise, because Jeff followed her gaze and went still.
“Sam?”
It was only one word, but it hurt. He sounded shocked, almost confused, to see her.
