To be fair, they didn’t know it was a warning shot to Queen Antonia, so Xander played it that he was going to do things his way now. Get on board or get out. So we gave a brief Connectivity video chat interview to The London News, all fluff, talking about how we met, and that we were so happy, we wanted to share this bit of news with people who might be interested. That was it.
And it exploded all over the world.
My face was everywhere. My words. Photographers doubled outside of the chip shop, and my parents said business is insane, so there’s a bonus. Eva loves all the attention she is getting at uni because of it. Isla has appeared in tabloids as my flatmate, and she gets a great laugh out of it, that she is now the world’s most famous payroll manager.
But it’s done.
As is Queen Antonia’s reign of terror. She has kept silent, and no more stories have been leaked to the press about any of the squad. All the negative ones have been of the author’s own creation and not fed by the palace.
Now comes the next big event for me, one that makes my stomach tingle with nerves and anticipation. Xander parks his Range Rover, and I stare up at the massive stone building before me in complete amazement. I’ve been to Buckingham Palace before, of course. When Isla and I first came to London, it was a must-see on our first visit together. I remember feeling that awe of being inside of such a place. How ornate and over the top the gilt and red seemed in today’s world. I remember listening to the tour guide and thinking how bizarre it was that this palace still operated, with a modern king and queen inside this place created by rules of another place and time.
I get out of the car and shut the door. New feelings hit me upon viewing it this time. Because now I stand before it, about to go inside, to places never seen on a guided tour. I’m seeing it through a new lens.
This could be my home one day.
The magnitude of what my future could be sinks in. I would live here, with a huge staff and people planning out every minute of my day. It would involve a lady-in-waiting. A personal assistant. Press handlers.
The air is suddenly sucked from me. I quickly take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.
“What’s wrong?” Xander asks as he comes around to my side. “Are you nervous about dinner?”
I shake my head as I keep my eyes fixated on the palace. “No. I was just thinking that I might live here one day, and that’s a rather overwhelming thought.”
“No,” Xander says firmly. “You will not.”
I whip my head to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not living here when it’s my time to be king,” Xander says. “This will be my office, and I will come here to work. But I want to raise my family in a smaller home. My father loves going to his home in Gloucestershire. I think I would like to do that as well. Along with Clarence House here in London.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yes, because both of those homes are so small. Almost quaint.”
“Well, they are smaller than the 775 rooms here,” Xander replies, lifting an
eyebrow.
“Fair point.” I giggle as we begin to walk across the car park. I steal a look at him, loving how he looks in his black suit and white dress shirt. Dinners at BP are dressy, he told me, with men in suits and women in dresses.
Hmm. Hopefully, no alarm will go off when I reach the doorway, as the little black dress I have on is from a sale rack at a high street shop. I grin at the thought.
“But if the suits were furious about us doing a non-traditional interview yesterday, what on earth would they think about a king not living in Buckingham Palace?” I ask, going back to the conversation about Xander’s future home.
He laughs. “They will turn inside out with horror. Even more so when I tell them I plan to open up the palace all-year-round for tourism, as a working museum.”
I stop walking. “Xander! Do you think you should do that?”
“Yes. Do you know how much money we could raise by doing that? Enough to reduce the brunt on taxpayers, which is going to be critical going forward. I brought this