“The way those two fight every other week, it must be truly great,” Smith says as he tucks his hands into his pockets. He turns as if to leave. “If you need anything, you let me know, my Queen.”
There’s dark devotion in his eyes when he says it. And I can tell he means it.
“Thank you,” is all I can give him.
As he walks out of the ballroom, I see two faces poke around the corner. Nervous whispers find their way to my ears.
“It’s okay,” Elle says, sounding slightly exasperated. “You two can come out.”
Around the corner, two women nervously walk out. Their eyes are bright, they don’t seem to know what to do with their hands, and they’re giggling and giddy.
“Is…is it really true?” the first asks. But she directs her question at Elle. “The Queen has really returned?”
Elle looks at me, and raises an eyebrow.
“It is,” I say, feeling exasperated.
This is freaking exhausting sometimes.
They both let out a loud squeal, one of them actually jumping up and down.
“This is seriously so exciting,” the other says. “We have heard stories, and oh, it’s just so tragic and romantic. I loved hearing about you and Cyrus when I was a kid.”
“Where is he?” the other asks. “Are you two planning a big wedding again? I can’t even imagine how amazing it must be to be together again after so long!”
“Girls,” a firm but gentle voice says. I look past them and see a man step into view. He wears a blue suit. Extremely light strawberry blond hair sits atop his head. “Give your greetings to Logan, and let her be.”
They give me another excited look and squeal. “I’m Stephanie,” one pipes up as she enthusiastically shakes my hand. “Nikki,” the other says, making a breathy little sound when she shakes mine. “If you need anything, we’re your girls.”
With more squeals and giggles, they both scamper away.
“That was delightful,” I say as I watch them go.
The man crosses the ballroom. “I apologize for them,” he says. He’s British, immediately given away by his accent. “I guess there’s been too much anticipation for them since they learned of your arrival a few days ago.”
He stops in front of me. His ice blue eyes are inquisitive, but they are kind. Open.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, though, Sevan,” he says as he takes a little bow in front of me. “After all this time… It’s an honor.”
“Please,” I blush. “Just…call me Logan, for now.”
“Logan,” he concedes with a little tip of his head. “I am Nial Jarvis. Welcome to the House of Conrath.”
“Nial is a doctor,” Elle continues the introduction. “He supplies pretty much everyone here with donor blood. And he takes charge of the House whenever Alivia has to travel.”
“I do what I can for Alivia,” Nial says. There’s a certain humility about the man. It’s refreshing. “She is family to me.”
Family.
There’s that word Edmond kept using when talking about the House of Conrath.
“It’s nice to meet you, Nial,” I say. And I actually mean that.
The fighting upstairs winds down, the words coming fewer and farther between. All our eyes rise to the ceiling when we hear a door open.
My heart jumps into my throat.
I hear footsteps, just one set of them, walk through the halls upstairs. And then I hear them pad down the stairs.
And then a moment later, Alivia rounds into the foyer.
We stand there for a long moment, just looking at each other.
“I know you’ve gotten what you came for,” she says quietly. “But please, Logan. Will you please stay for a while?” There’s emotion in her voice. She keeps control over it, though. Just barely. “Can you please…can you please give me a second chance?”
I swallow once, because it’s the only way to get my heart back under control. Tentatively, I take one step forward. My eyes rise from the floor, up to her face.
“I…” I sigh. I really don’t know how the hell to say what I feel. “I shouldn’t have freaked out on you like I did earlier. I wasn’t being fair. I…” My voice trails off again, and I feel a little hollow inside. “I’m kind of a mess right now.”
I still don’t apologize. But it’s the best I can do right now.
She crosses the space, and stops just a few feet in front of me. Slowly my eyes rise up to hers again.
“That’s okay,” she says. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, we’re all kind of a mess here.”
An emotional, appreciative laugh huffs out of my lips. And I finally let her, as Alivia wraps her arms around my back and hugs me.
I hesitate. I shouldn’t. I never imagined I would. But I stand there for several long seconds with my arms hanging at my sides.
It’s all different.
Every bit of it.
Different than I ever imagined.
But it’s okay to not be okay.
To not be how I imagined.
For things to be different.
Finally, I raise my arms, and wrap them around my birth mother.
I let my eyes slide closed. I press my face into her hair. The hair that is the same shade as mine. I hug her frame that is slighter than my own, and also a little taller. But as my heart beats in my chest, it tells me the truth.
We have our similarities. We have our major differences.
But this is the woman who carried me inside of her for nine months. This is the woman who didn’t abort me, whatever the circumstances were in the beginning. It’s the woman who did what was best by knowing there was another family who could give me a better life than she could.
Thank you, the thought rolls through my head.
I can’t voice it. Because I’m the same salty Logan I was a week and a half ago.
But I can admit it to myself.
“Second chances,” I say instead.
Alivia hugs me tighter for a moment before releasing me. She smiles, appreciation and emotion shining in her eyes.
Footsteps on the stairs draw my eyes back to the entryway. Alivia turns as well, and we both see as a man rounds the stairs and turns toward the ballroom.
There’s hardness in his eyes. Doubt. Questioning. His lips are pressed into a thin line and his jaw is tight.
I know exactly who this is and what he and Alivia were just fighting about.
He doesn’t like me.
Ian Ward is medium height, but his body is honed. Muscled arms, a broad, thick chest. Various scars line his arms. His brown hair is quite a bit lighter than Alivia’s. He’s attractive. In a backwater, rugged type of way.
“Logan,” Alivia says. There’s a stubborn tone to her voice and she lifts her chin just slightly. “This is my husband, Ian.”
I hear him let out a hard breath through his nose. His left hand curls into a fist and the set of his lips thins out even more.
Ian Ward is hot-headed. I’ve not even spoken a single word to him and I can already tell.
But he takes a step forward, and then another to cross the ballroom. He extends a hand. I make sure I stare him down, show him that I don’t give a damn what he thinks of me, as I shake his.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ian,” I say. I want to add, I’ve heard a lot about you, because I have, but I’m trying to be mature and act like the Queen I’m remembering. So I keep the words sealed, safe and sound, behind my lips.
“Logan,” is all he says, an acknowledgement. He stares me down.
But I see a warring of emotions. Anger. Distrust. But also…reverence.
“I guess you’ve already met some of the House members,” Alivia says, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me away from her distrusting husband. “And Elle.”
I nod. “I totally get why she’s Cyrus’ favorite,” I say with a wink in her direction. “And Christian was very…friendly. And then there was Smith.”
Alivia gives a little smile and chuckle, as if she totally gets why I didn’t have a word to say more about him.
I’m still not sure how to take him.
“Do you mind if I introduce you to everyone else?” she asks, her eyes unsure. “We were about to eat dinner.”
I nod.
Time to stop being a baby.
I’ve met thousands of new people throughout my lives. I’ve dealt with people who wanted to kill me. People who cursed my name.
I can handle Alivia’s House.