The Royals Next Door

We didn’t run into anyone until the end of the trail, and they only gave us a second look and a smile and carried on.

On Sunday, Harrison spent the evening at my house.

A night off.

My mother decided to give us some privacy and said she was going into town, which was surprising but appreciated all the same.

I wanted Harrison to stay over, but he said he didn’t want to push his luck. Even though he’s a free man to do what he wants, we’re both still trying to figure out the balance here. Obviously I’m okay with whatever, at least until school starts again after Labor Day (if I even have a job . . . ), but Harrison has never had to balance a relationship and his job before. I know he wants to make sure he’s doing right both ways, so he’s taking his time. And so if that means he’s not spending the night here yet, then that’s okay with me. As long as I get some lovin’ and some quality time before he goes.

But he does stay true to his word when it comes to protecting me.

So at nine thirty the next morning, he’s knocking at my door, ready to take me to the meeting.

“Where are you going?” my mother asks from the couch, already engrossed in some soap opera.

“Just to town,” I tell her. “Text me if you need anything?”

She gives me a once-over. I do look extra professional today. My hair is pulled back in a low bun; I’m wearing a white shirt and black pants. I look like a waitress.

I leave before she can say anything else, smiling at Harrison.

“You still haven’t told her?” he asks.

“Shhh,” I tell him, my finger to my mouth. “She has surprisingly good hearing.”

“Piper . . .”

“This is for the best,” I tell him. “Now come on, let’s take my car. I don’t want to show up in anything royal-related. I’ll look like a pompous ass.”

“You’d take Oscar the Grouch over a pompous ass?”

“Every time. Get in.”

He gets in and then we’re off, and suddenly I wish I wasn’t driving because I’m gripping the wheel so hard that my knuckles are white and my palms are sweating.

“Hey,” Harrison says gently, putting his hand on my leg. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going to do great.”

I give him an incredulous look. “I know you’ve seen me when I get nervous. I babble. I’m going to babble. I’m not going to say the right thing.”

“You will,” he assures me. “You will. Trust yourself. You’re sticking up for yourself, your podcast, your habits, perhaps even your love life, if it comes to that, and I sure hope it doesn’t. You know yourself the best, and you sell yourself the best. Anyone with a brain will be able to see your whip-smart mind and beautiful heart.”

God. I’m melting here.

I give him a look full of longing, the kind of longing that makes me want to pull the car off the road and climb on top of him. “Please stop being so nice to me.”

“I’ll never do that.”

“It’s going to go to my head.”

“If you know how amazing you are, the world will be a better place.”

Where did I find this man again?

Oh right. The royals next door.

Harrison’s kind words and pep talk, combined with the pressure of his soothing palm on my leg, keep my nerves in check for the drive, but by the time we pull in front of the elementary school, I’m a nervous wreck again.

Naturally, it being a Monday in the middle of summer, there aren’t many cars here. I recognize the principal’s station wagon, plus the electric car of the chairperson, and five other cars. I’ve never actually been to a school board meeting before, since I’m not on the board (and have never been in trouble), so I have no idea what to expect.

“You’re going to be fine,” Harrison says to me again as we walk toward the front doors, giving my hand another comforting squeeze.

It’s so weird being here in the summer; it feels like a place from a dream. In a way it’s best that I avoid the building on my months off and get back into the swing of things in the fall. Being here now feels like a mistake, like I’ve stumbled into some other dimension. It makes me realize how different I am in the summer, when I’m not working, than when I am. Not that either version of me is bad, but they do feel like different people.

We walk in through the doors and toward the first classroom on the right. The door is open, and there’s a low murmur of voices.

I stop just outside and look up at Harrison. “Do you mind waiting here?”

“Not at all,” he says, leaning in and giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’ve got this.”