“You look beautiful,” he whispers to me.
I couldn’t decide what to wear in my rush so I picked something I thought was both fancy and homey, festive and not, a black satin pencil skirt and a white mohair sweater adorned with faux pearls. Red lipstick, nails and an updo to finish it off.
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” I tell him. He’s in an ice blue dress shirt that matches his eyes and black pants. It’s probably the most casual I’ve seen him in a long time since he’s almost always wearing a suit and tie these days.
He leans in and kisses my cheek just beside my lips, not wanting to ruin my lipstick. “I’m…I’m so proud of you,” he says, his voice low. “I know how hard this has been for you, for everyone.”
I nod, swallowing the sawdust in my throat. I don’t want to think about it tonight. “I’m just surviving,” I admit.
He frowns. “You shouldn’t be surviving anymore, Maggie. You should be living.”
And he’s right. I was surviving back in Tehachapi. Going from day to day just trying to stay alive. Have things really reverted back to that? Did I mean what I said?
“It will get easier,” he says as he’s said a million times before. “I promise.”
“How?” I can’t help but blurt out. “When will they ever leave us alone?”
He sighs. “They won’t. But it will get easier to us. We will get used to it. Soon it won’t matter anymore because it’s just a part of the job.”
“I never signed up for a job, Viktor. I love you and I want to be with you no matter what but that’s not a job, that’s a choice.”
He stares at me for a moment, his eyes searching mine as if he can find something to convince him. “It will get easier. You’ll be fine. There’s no cow on the ice.”
“No cow?” I repeat. “Oh there’s a cow. A big fucking fat heifer and she’s seconds from going through.”
He closes his eyes briefly, exhaling a shaky breath through his nose.
“Not everyone is fine with this lifestyle, Viktor, not everyone can handle it,” I add and he knows I mean his brother.
Which explains the sharp look it brings out of him. I probably shouldn’t have used him as an example.
A throat is cleared behind us and we break apart to see Bodi standing by the back door and looking at us with raised brows. “Sorry to interrupt but they’re ready to go.”
I can hear Callum doing a Swedish Chef impression from somewhere in the limo.
I sigh and nod at Viktor, giving him a small smile.
He doesn’t smile back, just turns and heads into the limo.
Oh great.
Merry Christmas to me.
The rest of the evening there’s a strain between Viktor and I, which isn’t the best feeling to have on Christmas, let alone with his family. I need to feel like he’s on my side and when he barely looks at you, it feels like I’m in an isolation chamber.
Fortunately, Viktor’s parents are quite accommodating with the kids and I would go as far as to say that they’re charmed by Callum, rather than terrified, which is nice for a change.
The kids love it, too. The palace would be jaw-dropping to them on a normal day but with Christmas decorations everywhere, the fancy kinds, like real gingerbread stars hanging from the tree and candy cane adorned wreaths, plus butlers walking around with trays of hot mulled wine and cider, they are in heaven. Even April is impressed and she’s hard to please.
Unfortunately, I still think his parents aren’t that impressed with me. Though his mother has warmed up a bit and has started to go out of her way to ask me opinions on things (even if it’s just “does this cardamom cake have too much cardamom?” to which you say, “you can never have too much cardamom!”) or to include me in conversations (usually about cake for some reason).
His father though, well, he acts like a king in every way. I think to him I don’t really exist and why should I. I’m nothing like the girl that he imagined would be sitting on the throne beside her husband. Because that’s what they have to be thinking, isn’t?
I’m not here with my brothers and sisters because Viktor is just a fling.
I’m here because we love each other.
And because we love each other, our relationship is serious.
Do I want to marry Viktor?
Of course I do.
God.
Yes.
If he asked.
Does Viktor want to marry me?
I hope so.
I hope that’s why I’m here.
He wouldn’t invite me all this way for nothing.
I’m here because this is the next step.
This is a trial, to see if we’re compatible in the real world, in this very big scary important world of Viktor’s, and not just one flirtatious week in Tehachapi, to see that we can work.
So…can we?
Honestly, before the paparazzi showed up, I had no doubts. Now, well, those doubts are in my head. And it’s not just the paparazzi and being in the middle of a media storm. It’s his parents too.
Yes, I know that he can marry a commoner.
But can a commoner like me ever feel welcome in this family?
Will I ever feel like I truly belong?
Will I ever fit in?
I used to hate working as a housekeeper, not because of the actual work, but because of the way people looked down on me. Now, here, it’s like that all the time. It’s not just the media writing shit. It’s the people who matter, who will matter if we stay together. The king and queen.
Viktor has always made me feel worthy of him.
But ever since coming here, my worth seems to be sliding through my fingers, like sand.
Viktor had told me once that his father dressed up as Santa every year. I didn’t expect that this time since they normally don’t have kids over for the holiday, but to my surprise there was a Santa sneaking through the house. Probably one of the butlers or servants, maybe even Dolf Lundgren. It was timed so that when the kids were leaving out risgrynsgröt (which is like rice pudding) for him (they do this instead of milk and cookies), they happened upon him finishing up with the presents.
I’ll never forget the sight of the kids running to the window to stare at the red-cloaked figure running through the snow and disappearing into the trees of the endless gardens. If I had actually seen reindeer flying through the air, I think I would have believed it myself.
All in all, the kids had a wonderful time, especially after opening their presents.
But when it was time for us all to go to bed, I was still in a nasty mood from earlier and all the sweet hot glögg didn’t help either.
Viktor and I retired to his old bedroom while the kids went to theirs and all I wanted to do was just pass out on that bed and sleep until noon. All the formalities, food, alcohol and being on my best behavior were bearing down on me.
“Do you think your parents had a good Christmas Eve?” I ask Viktor as I pull out my nightgown from my overnight bag. “They seemed to be doing okay.”
He sighs and walks over to his side of the bed, getting in. I hate how quickly he gets ready for bed. He just discards his clothes and walks on in, meanwhile I’m washing my face and putting on moisturizer and flossing and brushing my teeth and getting changed and I swear a million years seem to pass between us.
“My mother was crying in the kitchen,” he says simply.
“What?” I quickly slip on my nightgown and don’t bother with anything else. I get into bed. “I didn’t know that. Really, she was crying?”
“You think she isn’t human?” he says and his tone has an edge to it.
I should tread carefully here. We’re both tired and our nerves are frayed.
“Of course she’s human. This is the first Christmas without Alex for you guys. I think for us it all felt a little unreal being here but I’m sure tomorrow it will sink in that our parents aren’t here…”
“Yes, well she was upset. I could tell my father was as well. It’s harder on him in some ways because he can’t show any emotion.”
“Is that a rule?”
He narrows his eyes at me. “He’s the king.”
“Don’t kings have emotions?”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking.”
“What? Just because you’re a king…”
“You wouldn’t understand,” he says. “It’s a tough job. Why do you think I go and see Dr. Bonakov once a week? You have to be strong at all times, never show weakness. Why do you think King Aksel has gotten even worse since his wife died?”
“Because he’s grieving?”
“Because he can’t show weakness.”
“Rule with an iron fist, that sort of thing?”
He cocks his head at me, jaw tense. “You know I will be king one day.”
“So you’re going to turn into an emotionless robot too?”
Fire flames in his eyes. “Did you just call my father an emotionless robot?”
I shrug, regretting that but feeling stubborn for some reason. “Can you blame me? He seems to hate me.”
“He doesn’t hate you, he doesn’t know anything about you,” he says. Our voices are starting to rise. “And no, I hope I won’t turn into an emotionless robot but you of all people should know what that’s like. You said you were surviving this last year. You did everything you could to not feel. Don’t be a hypocrite.”
“I am not a hypocrite,” I snap. “I’m calling it as I see it. And your parents don’t like me at all, just admit it! Admit that I’m not princess material! Get it out in the open and not this buried wedge between us.”
“They like you Maggie…”
“Then how come when they look at me, all I see is their wish for me to be something else.”
“You’re seeing what you want to see. You’re amazing and you know it.”
“You’re a prince!” I cry out. “You’re a prince and I’m nothing.”