Dating A Prince: A Royalish Series, page 18
"Mom, Dad, I've invited Miss Sinclair to come spend the holidays with us."
Neither said a word, waiting for him to continue.
He continued pacing. "I really like her, and I hope you will show her the same kindness you show all of our guests."
"Son, of course. Is that why you are nervous?" his father inquired.
"Yes. Well, only a little. Freya's father suffered what appears to have been a mild heart attack. Jean-Paul sent notice to me at once. I'm hoping he’s okay. But that’s not all. You see, Freya’s family, for the most part, do not approve of our friendship. The issue stems deeper. She’s not open to discussing this yet, but I know at least that much. However, Jean-Paul witnessed her mother being cruel to Freya at the hospital. It seems her mother is set on blaming Freya for the father’s heart attack, citing all the attention from the media is simply too much.”
The King stood and made his way toward his son. “Magnus, these issues of acceptance do not come easily to some people. No one should control how another person feels. It seems your friend is willing to explore this friendship, and that is telling as to where she feels her emotions lay.”
"I understand, Father. And yes, I believe, due to all the animosity members of her family have caused, she's learned to not own their issues and focus on helping herself. If that makes any sense," Magnus offered.
"Son," the Queen spoke, "we trust your judgment implicitly. And welcome her with an open heart. Shall I head the arrangements for her arrival?"
"Thank you, Mother. That means the world to me. I believe Bernard and I have the details well under control. I'm bringing on Estella, Gerard's daughter, to assist with Bernard's wife, Sophia, seeing to the more intricate details of royal etiquette."
"Estella?" the King wondered.
"Yes. She's been interning at one of the stations in Spain. But she will not be hired on. Gerard spoke to me about giving her the opportunity to help so she can gain the experience and perhaps help her in securing a full-time job."
"Son, but isn't she a journalist? Are you certain you want to give her access to the family, especially to your friend?" the King continued, and Magnus understood where he was coming from.
"She'll be signing all the appropriate non-disclosure documents. I'm sure Bernard is factoring in the appropriate wording while taking into consideration Estella's background."
"Very well, Magnus. Just ensure that your guest, Miss Sinclair, is versed in not shedding too much light into her personal affairs. This person, after all, will not be her friend. She'll be an employee, and that line needs to be clearly defined."
"Yes, Father. I'll make sure this is communicated to Freya."
"Magnus?" The Queen interrupted.
"Mother?"
"Whatever you do, please, leave your sister to me. I'll handle this matter."
"Mother, I'll do my best. But I cannot make you any promises. Especially if she continues to badger me in press conferences."
His parents both looked at him sympathetically. It was hard for him to hold them responsible for Cossette's actions. Her parents would not approve her behavior.
Magnus took his leave. Freya would be up by now, and he wanted to reach out, learn about her father's condition, and offer his support. He didn't divulge too much to his parents, but he was livid with the report he'd received from Jean-Paul. How was it that Mrs. Sinclair could blame Freya for Mr. Sinclair's health setback?
He'd understand if Freya was an irresponsible person with constant issues, but Freya was so much more responsible than any parent could desire.
Magnus shook his head at the thoughts and called her.
"Hello?" she whispered.
"Freya, how are you? How is your father? Jean-Paul told me."
"Give me a sec, let me walk out of the room to talk."
He could hear her speaking to someone, but the voice was muffled, and before he knew it she was back on the line.
"Hey! How are you?" she asked.
"I'm okay. But you haven't answered me. How's your father?"
"He's going to be okay. As a matter of fact, I believe he might actually go home later today if all checks out well."
"That's great news. How are you doing?" She sounded as if nothing had happened as Jean-Paul had described to him.
"I'm good. I'll probably head back once he's released. I have so much catching up to do at work. And there is a high possibility I'll be losing my right-hand assistant in February. So I need to figure out hiring logistics if I'm going to be gone as long as we'd originally planned."
He could hear a bit of stress in her voice.
"Where is your assistant going? Did she turn in her notice?"
"Kind of. Well, she prepared me for something that will most likely happen. She might be getting married if all goes as expected and if she does, well, she will not be returning to work."
"Her fiancé doesn't want her to work?"
"He's not technically her fiancé, yet. And to answer your question, she'd be moving to another country. He's well off so work will not be necessary."
"I'm confused."
"Trust me, it's a tad confusing. Anyway, I need to get back to my dad. How about I text you later, once I find out if he's going to be released today and if you are still up, we can chat more then?"
"Okay. But Freya, if you need anything at all, please, do not hesitate to reach out to me or let Jean-Paul know."
"Thanks, and I'll talk to you later."
Magnus took a deep breath. He was happy to hear Freya's voice. But it did nothing as far as clearing his mind for what he wanted to say to Cossette.
Chapter 14
Freya had turned off the ringer to her phone when she'd been with her father, not even remembering to turn it back on when she'd arrived at the hotel. When she finally woke up, she had a few missed calls from Tristan and Claire. Tristan had left her a text:
Must've gone to a hotel which I totally understand. Just check in with me when you get this message, so I know you are all right.
This was in contrary to Claire's somewhat demeaning voicemails about how selfish Freya was and how could she add more stress to their mother.
Freya deleted all of Claire's messages and quickly replied to Tristan to let him know she was fine and would catch up with him at the hospital.
When Freya arrived at the hospital, it was Will who'd chose to confront her.
He stopped her in the hallway. "I don't know what sick game you are playing here, Freya. Just know, I will not allow you to add more stress to mom. Do I make myself clear?"
Freya didn't answer; the last thing she wanted was to cause a scene or a confrontation. She sidestepped him to get around, making her way to her father's room.
Tristan hadn't arrived, but Claire and her mother were both at her father's side. She said good morning, only getting a quiet response from her dad, who was quickly falling asleep. She figured he was exhausted.
Before either her mom or Claire could say anything to her, the nurse walked in and gave them an update. Shortly after, Magnus had called.
When Freya hung up with Magnus, she found her mother waiting behind her.
Was she eavesdropping? she wondered, trying to gauge Jean-Paul's reaction, but he was stoic with not a word around others. She supposed the security detail roles were not much different from the Queen's Guards in England.
Her mother glanced over at Jean-Paul, huffing under her breath. "You do not have to stay. Someone can let you know if your father goes home."
"Why wouldn't I stay? I want to see him go home, just like the rest of you do, Mom."
Freya was confused as to why her mother would suggest that.
"I know you have many important things to attend to," she looked over her shoulder at Jean-Paul again, "and to be honest, I don't want a spectacle around your father."
"And what spectacle might I be causing?"
"Well, Freya. I don't know. You turn up here with this man, watching your every move and then you don't even bother telling anyone your whereabouts, opting for the hotel. And why didn't you stay at the house?"
Freya took a deep calming breath to control her nerves. She knew her mother was trying to push her buttons.
"Mom, I'm sorry I didn't tell anyone I was staying at a hotel. But as you've suggested more than once, even now, I seem to be somewhat unwelcome. I didn't want to impose, and it was late, so I did what I had to do to ensure everyone's comfort."
"So, staying at a hotel was the solution?" Doris' voice was agitated.
"I don't know, Mom. I don't know anymore with any of you. I'm damned if I do, I'm damned if I don't. You all are attacking me, blaming me, going out of your way to ensure that I don't feel welcome. So, tell me, Mom, why on earth would you want me there? Huh?"
Freya bit down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling. She and her mother had a tumultuous relationship since her dancing career was over. Doris had ideas about her returning home and settling down with a nice young man to start a family. She couldn't understand why Freya wanted to continue in the city and keep her entire life separated from the rest of her family; it wasn't in her mother's plan for her. All along, dance seemed like it would go away, anyway, in Doris' opinion from what she'd told Freya.
"Freya, I don't know you anymore. Since you had that dance injury, you've evolved into a person I cannot support. Your way of thinking, your standoffish demeanor and need to be such a recluse isn't who I raised. And now this entire fiasco surrounding that prince. People calling, knocking on our door? You know, people are talking. It's not all good either. People are saying you are a gold digger -"
Freya put her hand up in the air, motioning her mother to stop.
"I can't do this, Mom. I'm sorry I'm not the person you want me to be, but this is who I am. And I really don't care what people say about me. I know what I am and am not doing. I won't lie, I'm sad you can't see it, but I cannot force you in any direction either. I can only be true to myself and allow for what may develop, happen organically." Freya took a deep breath. "I'm proud of who I am and what I'm accomplishing. I have my own home and business, I have zero debt, and a good amount of money in savings. I love my job and my business. The people I work with and work for all respect me, and I them, and I'm only twenty-five years old."
Freya stood pensively for a few moments, recognizing how little credit she received from most of her family. It made her truly sad, but it also was an eye-opener.
"I can't force you to be happy for me, Mom. And I won't argue with you about the choices I make for myself. Just know, I am careful about how I think things through. Clearly, or I wouldn't be where I am in life. Now, if you don't mind. I'm going to stay at Dads’ side until he gets to go home. I'll go back to the city then."
She didn't wait for a reply from her mother. It didn't matter.
Tristan arrived at the hospital later in the morning. He whispered into their father's ear causing Mark to laugh. Freya smiled, glad to see her father on the mend, but Claire, her mother, and Will all were indifferent.
They spoke amongst themselves when Mark would doze off, not one interested in talking to Freya. She didn't mind. She also didn't have the energy to care.
"What's the news on Dad?" Tristan asked.
"Hopefully, he'll be able to go home today. They are going to run one more test, and if all comes back well, he's a free man." Freya smiled.
"That's great news," an excited Tristan said.
"He's being referred to one of the top cardiologists in the area. His follow up care will be crucial to not relapsing. He's not entirely out of the dark, just yet," their mother said sternly.
"Doris, you make it sound all doom and gloom. I'll be fine," Mark assured them.
"Fine? Okay, Mark, if you say so. Because from where I'm standing and from what I witnessed, you were not and are not fine."
Mark didn’t say a word, he only smiled. Freya had a lot of her father in her. They both weren't too keen on confrontation unless they absolutely had to speak up.
"So, Sis, what's your plan? How long are you going to stay?"
When Tristan asked, Freya noticed both Claire and Will perk up.
"I'll be leaving as soon as Dad is released." She smiled. "I'll call and check in on you, Dad. Okay?"
Her father smiled and reached out to squeeze her hand. She knew he understood there was tension.
"Have you had breakfast?"
Freya nodded.
"Come on, let’s go see what they have in the cafeteria." Tristan waited for Freya to stand.
"Do any of you want to join us?" He offered, but the rest only shook their heads.
"Dad, I'm going to grab a bite to eat with Tristan. We'll be right back." She smiled as her father acknowledged her.
In the cafeteria, they both grabbed oatmeal and a coffee. Freya suggested to Jean-Paul that he get something to eat as well, but he politely declined.
"Do they ever eat?" Tristan asked quietly from across the table.
"They do. I just don't know when." She laughed.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I'm sorry I didn't tell you all I was staying at a hotel. It was very last minute. Plus all the animosity. I just can't deal with any of it right now, Tristan."
Her brother reached over and held her hand.
"Freya, I can't tell you how to handle your relationship with the family. But I'll repeat what I said last night. I'm here for you. I'm not going anywhere. Okay?"
"I appreciate it. I just have so much going on as it is, but when it comes to the family, it’s like I can't catch a break. Honestly, I was at a point that I didn't care anymore. But now with Dad, well, obviously, I do care."
"Sorry to change the topic so drastically. But Claire is pregnant?"
Tristan looked genuinely stunned. Freya thought Claire had only kept it from her, but it appeared she'd kept Tristan in the dark as well.
"Yeah! She paid me a visit at my place. She'd tagged along with Ron on a quick trip into Seattle. Anyway, I was just as shocked as you are. I honestly thought I was the only one who didn't know."
"I brought it up after you left last night. Because yeah, I had no clue. Apparently, she'd posted it on social media, and mom kind of lost it, saying that you and I were so insensitive and hadn't bothered to call to congratulate her or even leave a comment to her announcement. I told mom that I never go on social media and that I highly doubted you did either."
"Are you kidding me? She expected us to know from that?" Freya rolled her eyes in frustration. "What is with them? Seriously, Claire really needs to grow the heck up. And Mom isn't doing her any favors by coddling her every whim. But what do I know?" She laughed, and Tristan joined in as they scooped the extra thick oatmeal.
"Tell me about your prince," he said, raising his eyebrows.
"He's not my prince. There isn't a lot to tell."
"But you are traveling halfway around the world to spend the holidays with him?"
"I am, and I intend to get to know him better."
"So, are you two dating?"
"No, Tristan. Once again, we are friends. Only friends."
"If you say so," he joked.
"Stop! I mean it." She smiled. "How about you? I can't believe there is no one in your life. Come on, you are like a stud muffin." She laughed.
"Oh, totally. Nah, I have friends but no one I'm serious with. I've told you before, I travel too much for any of it. And our siblings are the best examples of blissful marriages."
Freya smiled. "Yeah, as much as I'd like to blame someone else, I can't. I suppose they have the relationship that works best for them. You know? I personally just don't want the same things. I don't want to come back here and grow old. Nothing wrong with it, but that's not for me. I never wanted to stay here, and I think that is the crux of the issues mom has with me. No matter how I try to explain it, all she hears is that I'm too good for this place and that is so far from the truth. I just enjoy the city more. I like going to the theater, the shows, the games when I can. I like being where my business has potential to grow. It is thriving, Tristan. I can see it becoming a top contending studio. I wouldn't have that here."
Her brother smiled warmly as he listened.
"I love everything about being in the city. The sky rises, the proximity to just about all the services. All kinds of great ethnic foods. Really, I know it’s not for everyone, but it is for me."
"Freya, you don't need to convince me. If anyone understands, it is me. Obviously, I, too, live away from the family. Portland isn't very different in that sense from Seattle. The vibe might be, but everything you've cited is some of the same reasons I can't see myself ever coming back to this place. I love it here, but I don't want to move back. Besides, I'd be stagnant in my career if I ever attempted to work around here."
They sat quietly sipping their coffee after abandoning the oatmeal.
"If your prince asked you to date him, would you?"
Tristan sprang the question on her from left field. She'd tried to avoid thinking about Magnus as anything but a friend.
"I like him. If that is what you are asking me. He's confessed to liking me as well. But I don't know if I'd date him. I suppose that is the real reason I want to visit his country, to find out if I can be in a relationship with someone of his standing. You know, if it ever came to it."
If she was honest with herself, she was falling fast for Magnus.
Magnus was standing in the sitting room, looking out the window toward the west gardens. It was his mother’s favorite garden. She tended to it as much as she could. He was sipping on a scotch when he heard someone enter the room, but then they seemed to have left when they noticed him. He figured it was one of the employees. They didn't work in a room if anyone from the family was around.
He'd closed his eyes, taking in a deep calming breath when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Magnus quickly turned, only to find himself face to face with his sister, Cossette.
His free hand fisted at his side as he made every attempt to keep his facial gestures as motionless as possible.
