Romancing the Throne

My sister smiles at me. “I am,” she says. “Thanks in no small part to you.”

After a lengthy, competitive Scrabble competition—surprise, surprise, Libby wins—Mum, Dad, and Nana head to bed, leaving me, Edward, and Libby alone in the sitting room.

“Well, I guess I should go to bed.” I want to review the wireframes Bill’s coders have sent me. We’ve been lobbing emails and texts back and forth all week.

“Oh, no, don’t!” says Libby. “Stay with us and watch Big Brother.”

I look back and forth between the two of them. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t you rather be alone?”

“Alone with this girl?” He pulls a face and jerks a thumb in Libby’s direction. “The horror!”

Libby giggles. “Stay. Please. I’ve barely seen you in months.”

“Okay,” I say, settling down on the sofa and pulling a blanket over me. “Twist my arm.”

I get a text from Robert.

ROBERT: How’s tricks? You surviving?

ME: Ha! No, it’s all good. Everybody’s getting along

ROBERT: How’re the wireframes going? You giving Zuckerberg a run yet?

ME: Patience, young Jedi. The force is strong.

I giggle to myself at my Star Wars reference. Robert will think it’s cute.

Libby and Edward look over at me. “Is that Robert?” she asks.

“Yeah. We’re texting about Star Wars.”

Edward’s eyes widen. “You are texting with a guy about Star Wars . . . voluntarily? Who is this bloke?”

“You know him—Robert. Your prefect.”

“You and Robert?” A smile spreads slowly across Edward’s face. He nods. “I like it.”

I blush. “Me and Robert nothing. We’re just friends.”

He and Libby exchange a look. Libby grins. “Whatever you say, Lots.”

Every once in a while, I look up from the wireframes on my phone to peek at Libby and Edward. It’s nice watching them together. There’s a sweetness between them I wasn’t expecting: the way she offers him popcorn and feeds it to him, the way he gazes at her and reaches over to brush her hair from her eyes. They’re curled up together on the other sofa, the light from the screen reflected on their faces, and I think about how they seem to just fit.

Edward seems more relaxed around her, too. I don’t know if he’s like this all the time, or if it’s the coziness and relaxed atmosphere of my parents’ house, but he seems in his element. It’s not hard to imagine him sliding right in and becoming a member of the family. Judging by tonight, Dad is ready to sign adoption papers.

Of course, if he does become a member of the family, it means this is the new normal. No longer will I have my sister all to myself. I’ll have to share her.

At one point, he looks down at his phone and starts laughing a little.

“What’s that?” asks Libby.

“My mum is checking in. She wants to make sure everything is going okay.”

“First time meeting the parents?” Libby asks, poking him with her elbow.

“No, I make this a regular habit. The houses of Midhurst are littered with remnants of my overnight visits. I’m staying at your neighbors’ next.” He pokes her back, grinning cutely. “Of course this is my first time meeting the parents.”

Libby burrows deeper into his arms, looking cozy.

“Tell your mum you have a new father now. I don’t think Dad’s going to let you leave,” I say, giggling.

It’s only awkward when Libby gets up to make more popcorn, leaving Edward and me alone during the adverts. We stare at each other from opposing sofas, each reclining and buried under blankets.

“So,” I say.

“Um.”

“Well, this is awkward.” We both laugh nervously.

“Thanks for . . . uh . . . for being cool with the whole thing,” he says.

“Cool is my middle name.”

“I thought it was trouble.”

“I’m a woman of many colors.”

“I guess I’ve never really said it to you, but I’m sorry. I didn’t handle everything so well . . . you know, back then.”

I don’t feel the need for a big apology from Edward. Just knowing he treats Libby well is enough.

“That means a lot—thank you. But it’s all good. I like seeing you with Libby. It makes sense.”

“She gets me.”

“Well, she actually listens. Instead of, you know, banging around like a lunatic. Like some people,” I joke self-deprecatingly.

He chuckles. “You weren’t a lunatic.”

“Uh-huh.”

“But seriously,” he says. “I know how much your relationship means to Libby. She’s been miserable these past few months without you. Not because of me, obviously—”

“Obviously.”

“But she just, you know, needs somebody to confide in, I guess. It’s a lot to take on.”

“It . . . or you?”

“Oh, I’m perfect,” he quips. “Surely you remember that. No—the pressures, the expectations, my family.”

“The Firm.”

He frowns. “Right. The Firm.”

“I’m always going to be there for Libby—she’s my sister. You don’t need to worry.”

“It’s just . . .” He looks embarrassed, his voice a bit shaky. “I’ve been sold out by people close to me before. I’ve never let anybody from outside my family get as close to me as Libby. I’ve never been able to let my guard down like that. She knows everything, and I’m okay with it. I like it. I trust her.”

“Okay . . .”

“I need to know I can trust you, too,” he says in a rush, his speech faster than normal. “If Libby tells you private details. Now that the press has wind of the relationship—not to mention the fact that you and I . . . you know . . . first—they’re already poking around. A call from a reporter is an inevitability.”

“Edward, I would never.”

“You don’t know how they can be, Charlotte. They’ll promise you everything—that’s what they do. They’ll find your weakness and they’ll exploit it. If you have a secret, they’ll blackmail you. If you have a wish, they’ll make it come true. Anything, as long as you give them the scoop on me.” His face is a slideshow of shifting emotions: hurt, anger, anxiety, hope. “I have a zero-tolerance policy for people talking to the press about me. Zero. I need to know that you understand that. I need to know I can trust you,” he repeats.

“You can trust me. I’m a vault. Your secrets are safe with me.”

His face relaxes. “Thank you.”

“Unless they offer me the cover of Entrepreneur magazine. Then I’m totally selling you both out and moving to Silicon Valley.”

He laughs. “Noted.”

“What’s so funny?” Libby asks, coming back into the room with two large bowls full of freshly popped popcorn. She hands one to me and then slides back under the covers with Edward, giving him a little peck.

“Oh, Edward and I are just plotting out all the ways I plan to exploit you both for fame and success. First I’m going to hold a press conference talking about your terrible taste in television. Then I’m going to live-tweet all of Edward’s disastrous attempts at making legitimate Scrabble combinations—‘omg’ is not a word—and then finally I’m going to take all of my zillions of dollars and move to San Francisco, where I plan to date Elon Musk and become queen of Silicon Valley.”

“Elon Musk is married,” says Libby.

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