“You did not just say that,” I groan. “You and Edward are perfect for each other. The two of you are so cheesy.” We giggle. “But yes,” I say, hugging her. “We both need to do a better job of making sure nobody comes between us ever again. Not boyfriends, not husbands, not kids—nobody.”
I have a special place in my heart for the cheesy music my parents listen to: old singer-songwriter stuff like Bruce Springsteen and Sting. Whenever I hear that song “Glory Days,” or the Bryan Adams song “Summer of ’69,” I think about how right now is supposed to be the prime of my life. I try to stop and take a mental snapshot of the moment, filing it away for when I’m old and gray as a reminder that you only live once and I really did try to make the most of every minute.
Libby is off for her gap year soon, and then she’ll leave England for university in Scotland. I still have another full year of school, and somehow need to juggle schoolwork and university applications and Selfsy simultaneously. Next up is my gap year, then university—and then the great unknown. I can’t imagine what the next year—hell, the next five years—have in store for us. But whatever comes our way, I believe with every fiber of my being that we’ll look back on this time in our lives and we’ll cherish it.
“Sisters forever,” she says.
“Sisters forever,” I agree.
We clasp hands and head back downstairs.
“Did you see?” I say, pointing with my free hand to the middle of the room. “Kate Moss is here!”
“Who’s that?”
“Come on! You’ve got to be kidding me.”
She laughs. “Of course I am. Jeez, Charlotte—I’m not that out of it.”
Edward brings us each a drink, and then Mum and Dad join, the five of us talking about summer plans. Edward promises he’ll make several trips to Wisteria, and I don’t know who looks more elated—Libby or my father.
Right around when the party reaches max capacity—there’s actually a line outside the door—I feel a little tap on my shoulder.
“Congratulations, Charlotte.” It’s Robert, looking edible. He’s wearing a navy blazer over a white button-down shirt and fitted jeans. It’s the perfect combination of smart and casual.
“Robert! You’re here!”
“I got here a while ago,” he says, “but you were so busy that I didn’t want to bother you. Bill made me promise I wouldn’t monopolize your time.”
“Monopolize away,” I say, giggling. “I’m really happy to see you.”
“I’m happy you’re happy.” He pauses, looking like he’s debating saying something. Finally, he says, “I kind of missed you these past few weeks. Texting isn’t the same.”
“Did you?”
“Yeah,” he says. “You look great.”
“You, too,” I say, blushing a little as I give him the once-over again. He looks bloody hot, in fact. I’ve always been a sucker for sharply dressed guys.
After I exposed Flossie and Tarquin to Edward, Robert met me downstairs in the Stuart Hall common room, where I told him everything. We spent only a few minutes talking before I went back to find Libby, but just a few minutes was all the time I needed to catch him up.
“I’m sure you have loads of plans this summer, but I’d love to see you,” he says.
“Well, you only live twenty minutes from me. You’re practically in my back garden.”
“Exactly.” He grins, his dimples popping. “It would be a crime not to hang out. So maybe we could get dinner, or lunch, or whatever.”
“Or whatever,” I repeat. “I’d love that. Option C. All of the above.” I lean up to give him an impromptu kiss on the cheek, and he turns his head in surprise. Our lips meet, and then we pull away quickly, smiling.
“Whoops,” he says.
“Sorry.”
“Didn’t mean to do that.”
“That’s a shame,” I say coyly.
We stare at each other, and I feel the heat rising into my chest. I want a real kiss. I stand on my tiptoes, pulling gently on his shirt until our lips meet again. We lean into each other, my heart running away like a freight train. He puts his hand on my lower back, pulling me closer into him. His lips are so soft I feel dizzy.
“Get a room!” I hear India whisper laughingly somewhere behind me.
Robert and I break apart, still staring at each other. We’re both smiling.
“I’ve been wanting to do that forever,” he says.
All I want to do is drag Robert into the back room and snog his face off, but I manage to compose myself. “Good things come to those who wait,” I say, grinning.
Finally, the party begins to wind down a little bit. The reporters start to leave, India and Clemmie hug me good-bye and then make their way hand in hand past the braying photographers, and even Bill dashes, promising to call me tomorrow to powwow over the press clippings. Robert leaves with him, giving me another quick but intense kiss that leaves me spinning.
I don’t want this night to end.
“Can we get a picture?” one of the photographers asks.
“All of us?” I ask, gesturing at my family and Edward.
“Yeah.”
I look at Edward quizzically and he nods. “Let’s.”
The five of us stand in a line: me, Libby, Edward, and my parents.
“Can I rearrange you?” the photographer says. “Charlotte in the middle.” He looks at the group as I move in between Libby and Edward. “And then one parent on each side. Thanks.”
We smile for the camera, Libby and Edward each throwing an arm around me in support, my parents flanking them. I pull myself up to my full height, tilting my head the way I practiced in the mirror at home before the event.
“Thanks,” the photographer says as we all break apart. “Now, one of just you, Charlotte.”
My parents, Libby, and Edward move out of the way, but not before my father squeezes my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, nugget,” he says.
“Thanks, Daddy.” I feel so happy right now that I want to cry.
“Woman of the hour,” says Edward.
I turn this way and that for the cameras, thrilling as a few other photographers rush over to snap my photo.
“She’s a star,” Libby says proudly.
“And don’t you forget it,” I joke, smiling at her and winking as the flashbulbs pop.
epilogue
TEN YEARS LATER
Outside St. Paul’s Cathedral, Edward and Elizabeth, the newly minted Duke and Duchess of Oxford, glide in a hail of flashbulbs past the waving, cheering crowds.
While getting ready this morning in our suite at the Dorchester, I heard a commentator on Radio 1 say that one million people were expected to turn up in London today. And apparently almost one billion people planned to watch the wedding on TV. One billion people.
Edward takes Libby’s hand—she’ll always be Libby to me, anyway—and helps her up the steps of the gilded state carriage, gleaming in the bright May sunlight. She holds up the long white train of her dress, gingerly arranging the lace around her as she settles in the carriage. Finally, she looks up at the crowds in the square and waves. The people cheer, with banners and signs and UK flags waving and undulating all the way down the road, as far as the eye can see.