The Prince's Bride (Part 1) - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,74
and her hands met mine.
“No, don’t move it. Stay like this for a few minutes.”
“Where are you going?” I grabbed her hand.
“To finish dinner. Don’t worry. Your bodyguard is right here.”
I pouted. “You would leave me in his care? He would call an ambulance if I sneezed now.”
“I see you are feeling better. Part of me wished it burned longer,” Iskandar replied but spoke in Ersovian.
“He said he is not sure if you know what you are doing,” I lied.
“Well, excuse me!” she snapped at him, and I closed my lips. “It’s not my fault this happened, and as you can see, he is getting better. You don’t have to be so uptight about everything. He’s a person. Accidents happen.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
“I’ll be right back. Just give me a few seconds. Call out if it starts to hurt again,” Odette said down to me, and I nodded.
It was only when her footsteps faded a bit that Iskandar spoke again.
“Are you pleased with yourself, sir,” Iskandar whispered.
I grinned. “I apologize, but let me enjoy this. This is the most tender she has been to me since I came here.”
“Fine, so long as you do not go injuring yourself for her attention.”
“I would never do that.” I would definitely think about it, but I would not actually do it.
What a day. I had much more fun than I thought I was going to have. This was how normal people lived. Getting haircuts in kitchens—or wigs—going to grocery stores, making their own dinner, getting pepper in their eyes.
It was all so ordinary.
I lay there for a few more minutes before reaching up. I took the towels off my eyes, blinking a few times, and the pain was relatively gone, though I did have a minor headache starting. However, the smell of whatever she was making reached my nostrils, and I looked over the couch at her, seeing her tasting her sauce on a wooden spoon. I assumed it was to her liking because she grinned and took out her phone again, reading. Then she grabbed the vegetables we had bought, put them into the pot, and finally turned a knob on the stove. With each step, each move, my eyes followed her. She was really...something different.
“Okay, a few more minutes, and we can eat—you’re up.” She looked surprised, stepping over to me. “How are your eyes?”
“Happy to see you.” The words just slipped out.
“That’s more like you. You hadn’t said anything cheesy in a few hours, so I was starting to get worried.”
I had a reply, but I let it go. Be friends, Gale. I was going to try to be her friend first. “Do you need help with anything else?”
“No, don’t help. I don’t want you to get anything else in your eyes, or worse, cut a finger. Iskandar here might lose it,” she teased him.
He frowned into his book, looking away from us both.
“Do not worry. I will protect you.” I snickered, looking back to her. “I am enjoying being so normal.”
“Fine, you can help me set the table and bring out the food,” she said.
“That I am sure I can manage!”
He looked so relaxed.
So...normal.
Like any other guy around my mom’s dining table. A table we only ever used when people came over. Most times, we just ate in front of the television. Even on Thanksgiving and Christmas, we would spend our mornings and afternoons at fundraisers or charity events and then come back and eat while watching some sappy drama.
Yet here he was, just being a guy at dinner, talking, eating, joking. But I noticed he was no longer trying to hit on me. It kind of bothered me. It also bothered me that I had no idea what had happened while I was gone. However, I pushed those thoughts down and tried to focus on all the stories that were going around. My mom was doing her best to once again embarrass me, telling Gale every horrible story of my childhood. Luckily, Wolfgang and Iskandar had a few of his to share as well.
It felt like Thanksgiving came early this year.
“Odette, why don’t you take Gale to the study to see your old photos and trophies while we clean up,” my mother said with a wink and a nod. Her setup was clear to everyone at the table, which was why Wolfgang was already rising from his chair, leaning over to take Gale’s plate.