Featherswallow Heir Falls
from Grace (and onto Ass)
DISASTER STRIKES NOBILITY AGAIN:
Oliver Just Can’t Keep it Up…
Watch: Britain’s Clumsiest Aristocrat Endangers Children at Holiday Event!
But it’s the last one that makes me go completely still…
Britain’s most Chaotic Couple Strikes Again: Could These Two Hot Messes be Perfect for Each Other?
The article includes a photo compilation: me crawling across the ice, Emily laughing so hard she’s doubled over, us clinging to each other by the barrier, and finally, that kiss from before.
The one that was supposed to be for the cameras, but felt like coming in from the cold on a long winter’s night…
She looks up, meeting my gaze, a question in her eyes that makes me hope she might be wondering what I’m wondering.
Couldwe be perfect for each other?
She pulls in a breath, but before she can speak, her phone rings.
Emily blinks, then glances down. “Sorry, I… It’s Isabelle.” A soft laugh as she shakes her head. “I told you, she always knows.” She lifts the phone between us as she half stands. “Do you mind? We’ve been trying to connect on a call for days and?—”
“Of course,” I say, waving her off with a grin. “Go. Chat. I’ll be happy here with my cocoa and no ice under my feet. Or my ass.”
She grins, her eyes crinkling just for me, even as she answers the phone with a warm, “Hello there, baby sister. How are you? I miss you so much.”
Her words fade as she wanders away, seeking a bit of privacy for her conversation, but I can’t seem to pull my eyes from the ginger in the fluffy white scarf. She’s just…beautiful.
More than beautiful.
She’s beautifully familiar. After only a few days, I feel like I’ve known her for ages. Or like I’ve been waiting for her for ages.
With Emily, both might very well be true.
“Mum said I had to apologize again,” a petulant voice announces near my elbow, making me flinch in surprise.
I turn to see a runny-nosed Nigel pouting beside me, his own hot chocolate moustacheoing his upper lip. “What’s that?”
“Mum said I had to apologize again,” he repeats, a little more irritably. But then, I can’t really blame him. I don’t enjoy repeating myself, either. “Because you’re some big fancy royal fuss.”
I soften. “Nah, I’m not a big royal fuss. No need to apologize to me any more thoroughly than you would to anyone else. You did an excellent job apologizing the first time. Tell your mum she should be proud, and there are no hard feelings.”
Nigel brightens a bit. “Okay, good.” He glances around, searching for something before he adds, “Where’s your redhead boss?”
I grin. “My boss? Did she seem like my boss, do you think?”
He shrugs. “She’s way better at skating than you. And she’s pretty bossy.” He glances sharply my way again, seeming to rethink the wisdom of that last comment. “But I mean, not in a bad way.”
“Just a bossy way,” I supply.
“Yeah,” he agrees, clearly irritated again when I laugh.
“Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t laugh. She’s my girlfriend, actually, but I’m quite happy to have her boss me around. As you said, she’s way better at skating, as well as many other things.”
He sniffs, drawing the dangling wet beneath his nose up a millimeter before he exhales, setting the snot free again. “I don’t like girls.”
