Page 105 of The Thing About My Prince

“Oh, we could totally do it standing and with no mouth- or face-kissing.”

A cough draws my attention over Lexi’s shoulder to where my father is approaching us along the landing.

“Oops,” Lexi whispers as she snatches her hand out from under my kilt and straightens.

“Why on earth did I have to see a hairstylist?” my dad says, running his fingers through his new ’do. “It looks no different. Total waste of time.”

“Maybe because Mum told you to?” I suggest.

“Hmm.” Dad sighs as he passes us to descend the stairs.

“You look nice, Lexi,” he says, without seeming to have even noticed her.

Lexi gives me an exaggerated look as she mimes shock, mouth open, hands flying to her chest.

“Thank you, sir,” she replies. “Your”—she points at my outfit and whispers—“what’s it called?”

“Highland dress,” I whisper back.

“Your Highland dress looks great on you,” she calls after him as he disappears down the stairs.

“See you both at the church.” He waves at us over his shoulder without turning back.

“May I accompany you to a royal wedding, miss?” I offer Lexi my elbow.

“Only if you promise not to take that kilt off until I say so.” She hooks her hand into my elbow, and I help her balance on her heels as we make our way down the stairs.

When we get to the front door, my mother’s there like a sentry guarding the crown jewels—if sentries were ever dressed entirely in lemon-yellow and had the featheriest of feathers in their hats.

“Ah, there you are.” She slaps the white gloves she’s holding together as Lexi and I approach. “Oliver, you’re traveling with me. And you”—she points at Lexi like she can’t even be bothered to remember her name—“you’re in one of the cars over there.”

She flaps the gloves toward the end of the row of shiny black vehicles lined up behind the large white beribboned one parked right outside the front door.

Is she for fucking real?

At this point, I’m more resigned to it than angry.

“Lexi’s traveling with me.” I place my hand on top of hers on my arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mum snaps. “Come along.” And she heads off down the steps.

Jesus Christ! After all my years trying to stand up to this nonsensical crap how can she still dismiss me like this, like I’m a silly child who doesn’t know right from wrong?

“Lexi is with me.” I say it firmer this time. “She travels with me.”

“It’s okay.” Lexi pats my hand. “Leave it.”

“I am not leaving it. I’m sick of fucking leaving it.”

Mum turns on the steps to look at me and sighs with disgust. “Oliver, could we maybe try to have just this one day, your sister’s special day, without any crude language?”

“You might want to have a word with Sofia about that, because earlier she stubbed her toe on a side table in the living room and yelled ‘fucking shit-twats.’”

She winces. “Bride’s prerogative. Now come on. We all need to be in the cars before Sofia comes down.”

“You take the front seat then, Mum. Lexi and I will have the back.”

“Oliver, I will say this only once more. Your friend here is traveling in one ofthosecars.” She flaps her gloves again. “You’re lucky I’m allowing her in a car at all.”