Page 13
Story: Rags to Royals
Ruby and Mariah are just as obsessed.
Mariah is still studying her phone. She starts to read. “As we know they were at the wedding and then sources report they were at the late family-only dinner. But when everyone woke up this morning, they were gone, and no one knows where they went.”
The three of us now listen religiously to the podcastWait ’Til I Tell Yeand discuss each episode. The podcast is from Cara, and you definitely have to know it exists to find it. It’s two women who talk about everything from the weather to beauty tips to local events like farmers’ markets and art fairs. But they also love to cover the royal family. And lately they’ve had a lot of fodder.
It was like a royal reality show. It really is pretty intriguing and kind of fun to follow. Beautiful, rich, powerful people are fun to watch from a distance. And in this case, they are all good people. Everything I can find points to that fact. They are generous, charitable, and are working on policies that will actually help people.
And yes, the podcast mentions Cian from time to time.
And even though every time I hear his name, my heart skips, I’ve learned some very important things. He’s a playboy. He’s the youngest of the royal grandchildren so he has no chance of taking the throne and, seemingly, has no real responsibilities of any kind. And everyone adores him. In the ‘isn’t he cute and fun’ way. Not in any kind of ‘we can totally depend on him’ way.
He loves to party, he loves to travel, and he loves to have a good time.
Which is fine. That’s his prerogative. It’s none of my business.
Because we’re nothing. We’re each other’s past. And we’re barely that.
Mariah keeps going. “We also have it on good authority that they havenotreturned to Louisiana.”
Cian and his siblings have been living in the US for the last several years. His brother Torin—the future king—just returned to Cara, but the others all live in US, including Cian and Henry who live in a tiny town in Louisiana where Cian’s sister, Fiona, runs an animal sanctuary. There are giraffes and penguins on the bayou because of Fiona and friends.
Finally, Mariah looks up at me. “What do you think is going on?”
I take another sip of coffee, stalling. Mariah knows about me and Cian. She doesn’t know all the provocative details, of course, but she knows we ‘went out’ the weekend before we moved to Ohio and now, thanks to Henry and Ruby, she knows that Cian thinks he’s in love with me and wants to see me again.
Mariah is very much in favor of that.
As is Ruby.
I’m completely outnumbered.
“I have no idea,” I finally say. “I don’t know him that well. I don’t know where else he’d go besides Louisiana.”
Mariah sits up straighter, her eyes wide. “What if they’re cominghere?”
I shake my head. “They’re not. You know that. You know I told Henry I don’t want to see him and now Henry and Ruby have broken up. They’re probably on their way to deep-sea dive or mountain climb somewhere.”
That’s more his style. He and Henry are always doing something fun and spontaneous.
Another reason we’d be terrible together. Spontaneity only gets me into trouble. I’ve proven that over and over.
Icannotsee Cian. I have no desire to repeat…
Okay, that’s a lie. I’d love to repeat our weekend.
But anything beyond that? No. Absolutely not. Had I met him a year before I did? Maybe.Maybe.
But now? A flashy, pseudo-famous, staggeringly wealthy boyfriend who is related to a king and a billionaire and who has some definite skeletons in his closet—beautiful women with broken hearts, parties with property damage, one- or two-night stints in jail, and God knows what else—is absolutely the last person I need in my life.
I’m laying low. I’m keeping my head down. I’m trying to prove I’m not the sanctimonious bitch I was when I lived here before.
I just want to live a good life and prove that people can change, can see the error of their ways, and can make amends.
Cian O’Grady is not a bad person.
He’s just not a lay-low-head-down-simple-life person.
Even in the fifty-five hours I spent with him I knew that, and now I’ve read plenty of proof.
Mariah is still studying her phone. She starts to read. “As we know they were at the wedding and then sources report they were at the late family-only dinner. But when everyone woke up this morning, they were gone, and no one knows where they went.”
The three of us now listen religiously to the podcastWait ’Til I Tell Yeand discuss each episode. The podcast is from Cara, and you definitely have to know it exists to find it. It’s two women who talk about everything from the weather to beauty tips to local events like farmers’ markets and art fairs. But they also love to cover the royal family. And lately they’ve had a lot of fodder.
It was like a royal reality show. It really is pretty intriguing and kind of fun to follow. Beautiful, rich, powerful people are fun to watch from a distance. And in this case, they are all good people. Everything I can find points to that fact. They are generous, charitable, and are working on policies that will actually help people.
And yes, the podcast mentions Cian from time to time.
And even though every time I hear his name, my heart skips, I’ve learned some very important things. He’s a playboy. He’s the youngest of the royal grandchildren so he has no chance of taking the throne and, seemingly, has no real responsibilities of any kind. And everyone adores him. In the ‘isn’t he cute and fun’ way. Not in any kind of ‘we can totally depend on him’ way.
He loves to party, he loves to travel, and he loves to have a good time.
Which is fine. That’s his prerogative. It’s none of my business.
Because we’re nothing. We’re each other’s past. And we’re barely that.
Mariah keeps going. “We also have it on good authority that they havenotreturned to Louisiana.”
Cian and his siblings have been living in the US for the last several years. His brother Torin—the future king—just returned to Cara, but the others all live in US, including Cian and Henry who live in a tiny town in Louisiana where Cian’s sister, Fiona, runs an animal sanctuary. There are giraffes and penguins on the bayou because of Fiona and friends.
Finally, Mariah looks up at me. “What do you think is going on?”
I take another sip of coffee, stalling. Mariah knows about me and Cian. She doesn’t know all the provocative details, of course, but she knows we ‘went out’ the weekend before we moved to Ohio and now, thanks to Henry and Ruby, she knows that Cian thinks he’s in love with me and wants to see me again.
Mariah is very much in favor of that.
As is Ruby.
I’m completely outnumbered.
“I have no idea,” I finally say. “I don’t know him that well. I don’t know where else he’d go besides Louisiana.”
Mariah sits up straighter, her eyes wide. “What if they’re cominghere?”
I shake my head. “They’re not. You know that. You know I told Henry I don’t want to see him and now Henry and Ruby have broken up. They’re probably on their way to deep-sea dive or mountain climb somewhere.”
That’s more his style. He and Henry are always doing something fun and spontaneous.
Another reason we’d be terrible together. Spontaneity only gets me into trouble. I’ve proven that over and over.
Icannotsee Cian. I have no desire to repeat…
Okay, that’s a lie. I’d love to repeat our weekend.
But anything beyond that? No. Absolutely not. Had I met him a year before I did? Maybe.Maybe.
But now? A flashy, pseudo-famous, staggeringly wealthy boyfriend who is related to a king and a billionaire and who has some definite skeletons in his closet—beautiful women with broken hearts, parties with property damage, one- or two-night stints in jail, and God knows what else—is absolutely the last person I need in my life.
I’m laying low. I’m keeping my head down. I’m trying to prove I’m not the sanctimonious bitch I was when I lived here before.
I just want to live a good life and prove that people can change, can see the error of their ways, and can make amends.
Cian O’Grady is not a bad person.
He’s just not a lay-low-head-down-simple-life person.
Even in the fifty-five hours I spent with him I knew that, and now I’ve read plenty of proof.
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