Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I sit in a window seat, expecting James to sit next to me. But of course we have the whole plane, and he sits on the other side of the aisle.
I don’t like this distance between us. I never have. I’ve fought for it, I’ve done what I could to enforce this distance, to keep us in our roles, but deep down, I hate it. I hate that there’s that wall separating our rooms.
“James,” I say quietly as the plane starts up its engines.
He looks at me. “Yes?”
Suddenly I feel so shy, so vulnerable, like I’m seconds away from crumbling. “Do you…” I look down at the empty seat next to me, afraid to ask for what I want.
He nods, recognition flashing in his dark eyes. “Of course.”
He undoes his belt and comes over, sitting down next to me and buckling up again. Then he takes my hand in his, his skin so warm against mine, and raises it to his mouth. He places a light kiss on my knuckles as his eyes bore into mine. “I’m right here,” he says.
I nearly burst into tears. It wouldn’t be unwarranted, but somehow I manage to keep them at bay, blinking fast, looking out the window.
James doesn’t let go of my hand the entire flight.
Fifteen
LAILA
The plane lands in a private airfield outside Trondheim, and Magnus arranged a rental car for the two of us. With James behind the wheel of a black Mercedes, we drive south of the city, through valleys and villages surrounded by rounded peaks. Everything looks so beautiful and pure, yet there’s an emptiness about it too. Like even these places are touched by the same loss that I am.
Eventually the road swings through a mountain pass and the fjord appears before us, the mountains on the other side towering like overlords.
“Shit,” James swears under his breath, trying to keep his eyes on both the road and the view. “This is incredible. And you grew up here?”
“I sure did,” I tell him as the road winds along the water, the surface dark and reflecting back the mountains. Eventually we come to the end of the fjord and the base of the village, which spreads out into a stunning valley, the patchwork quilt of farms and houses now covered by unifying snow. All the houses here are in primary colors—red, orange, yellow, white—the same colors they’ve been since they were built, having been passed down through generations.
Home. This is and always will be home to me. It doesn’t matter that I’ve lived in London or Oslo—this is where my heart feels most at peace. The funny thing is, there’s nothing really here for me anymore. My grandmother is gone. I’m friendly with my cousin, but he’s literally my only family left now. And I’m friendly with some of the villagers too, but there’s nothing keeping me except the sense of belonging. They say you can never go home again, but I hope, deep down, that one day I can.
“So this is the town,” James muses as we drive past a handful of stores, rounding the bend of the fjord. “What a journey you’ve been on, Laila. From fjord farm girl to being employed by royalty. The people here must be very proud of you.”
“Turn right up there,” I say as we head over a bridge, a frozen river beneath. “And I’m not too sure about them being proud. They’re pretty down-to-earth here. I don’t think most of them have an opinion either way about the royal family. And anyway, you’re the one with the journey. From the foster system of Glasgow to becoming Prince Eddie’s and Prince Magnus’s bodyguard.”
He gives a dismissive shrug. “I suppose we all have our journeys, don’t we?”
We continue along the road, now on the other side of the fjord, the street getting narrower as we pass through houses. I point out the different ones to James. “The yellow one belongs to Ernest and Trude Surdal who used to come over for brunch on Sundays. The dark wood one, which has a grass roof during the summer, is where old man Arvid lives. He taught me how to fish when I was young. Then there’s the Ragnar family, who I used to play with. Funny how I can’t remember their names.”
I continue to point out the different houses and people, until finally my grandmother’s old house appears. “Pull in here,” I tell him, my voice starting to shake as the emotions threaten to overwhelm me, my chest and throat growing tight.
James parks the car and looks at me, reaching for my hand. “It’s going to be okay,” he says, even though I have no idea how that’s possible. How can it ever be okay when you lose the person you love?
I let him hold my hand for a moment, then I steel my nerves, taking in a deep breath through my nose. “I’m okay,” I manage to say. I step out of the car.