Page 57 of Scandal
“Yes!” Elena’s eyes go wide. “Oh my god, Merc. Of course. Blame the mommy brain. You have our full attention. Tell us all what’s going on. Don’t you just love Scotland? Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Well, I haven’t seen much yet, but yes,” I say, thinking of the long walks with Asher, the nights by the fire, and dancing in his arms. “It’s wonderful.”
“You look stressed,” my sister says, leaning back against a pillow on her couch. She and Hollis just moved into their dreamhouse on the beach in Malibu after months of remodeling, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so content and happy.
“Yeah,” Elena agrees. “Whose ass do we need to kick?”
“No one,” I assure her. “Well, maybe my personal assistant, but that’s only because she’s way too good at her job.” I thought I was organized. Evie put my lists and endless hours of research to shame, and I can’t decide if I love or hate her for it.
“You have a personal assistant? That’s so cool,” she starts to say, but then she must see me scowl and changes her tune. “I mean, oh my god. What a pain in the ass!”
I giggle because this is exactly what I needed. This week has been so stressful and so jam-packed that I just needed a little goofiness from my family.
“We have a garden party today, and it’s not even that big of a deal, but after all the history and etiquette lessons this week?—”
“Hold up.” Elena waves a hand. “Etiquette lessons? Did you really think we were gonna let you just roll past something like that?”
“I heard historyandetiquette lessons,” Zara chimes in.
“Oh my god, it really is the fucking Princess Diaries!” my sister gushes.
“I think you need to rewatch that movie, Pres.” I snort. “I’m not sixteen, and I’m not inheriting a fictional country from my long-lost grandmother.”
“Not that you know of,” she quips.
“Tell us about etiquette lessons,” Elena demands.
“It’s surprisingly intense. It’s all about how to address nobility, the proper way to curtsy, and what not to talk about in polite society. How to eat?—”
“They’re giving you lessons on how to eat?” Zara sputters.
“Yes,” I groan. “Apparently, biting into a roll is considered barbaric.”
“I guess I’m a heathen, then,” Elena mumbles around a mouthful of fried rice.
“History class is a little more interesting, especially when we focus on Asher’s family tree. It’s insane how far back it goes.”
“So all of these lessons…have they helped?”
“In some ways, yes. I’m more prepared, but I’m also way more nervous. What if I laugh at the wrong moment or address someone improperly? What if I accidentally insult someone because I’m American and say something dumb? Asher’s mom said I was lucky to make it through the gala unscathed, and I thought she was being harsh, but honestly…she’s right. I really had no idea what I was doing.”
“And now that you do, you’re worried you’re going to mess up?”
I nod. “I’m not exactly sure I’d say I know what I’m doing, but I’m getting there. And because of that, I know all the ways I can fail.”
“You’re not going to fail,” a distinctly male voice says behind me. I lower the phone.
“Oh, damn,” Zara mutters.
“Hey, Asher.” My sister grins. Shit, did I accidentally flip the camera around? I quickly flip it back, but it’s a waste of time since Asher’s dresser is directly behind me, and he seems to give zero shits he’s directly in my camera view.
I turn just as Elena asks, “Are you two sharing a room?”
“No,” I say quickly, while Asher confidently replies, “Yes.”
All three women blink back at me. “What I mean is, yes, we’re sharing a room, but not the way you’re thinking. Obviously.”
“So is that why Asher is in a towel, then?” Presley smirks as I discreetly follow her gaze. God, water is still dripping down his torso, lower and lower until?—
