Chapter 4 : Daddy Issues

Lena’s POV

“Hey Joe,” I greeted and waved, walking into Glenwood Express, the convenience store by Sydney’s house.

I was on my way to her flat so I could spill the news about my blind engagement. Sydney was my best friend. We shared a few classes together at university and had been close ever since.

Whenever I needed to unwind, I’d take a cab across town to Bridgeburn and visit with her. There were less paparazzi where she lived and I knew I’d be safe from tapped phones and bugged radios.

I’d been to the convenience store by Syd’s place so many times, I became friends with all the workers. Joe waved back without looking and I smiled as I drifted over to the candy aisle. I browsed a few snack sections casually before settling on a big bag of potato crisps and a couple of candy bars.

I carried my goodies over to the counter as Joe lazily stood from his stool in a corner behind the register. He cleared his throat and grunted while he scanned all the items. Joe was your typical market worker; scruffy, old, and a little grumpy.

“So, what’s the gossip today?” Joe asked, as he tallied up my total.

“Men,” I whispered with a playful wink.

“Don’t fall for our tricks,” Joe chuckled with a semi-serious voice. “Most of us are no good.”

“Oh, hodge podge,” I scoffed, waving a hand at him. “Says the man who's been married for thirty-two years.”

“Thirty-two painful years,” Joe grumbled, handing me a bag with my items.

“Oh, stop it,” I chastised. “You wouldn’t know what to do without Meredith.”

Joe chuckled. “I suppose you’re right.”

I thanked him and went on my way. Sydney’s place was only a five minute walk from the store. I crossed a couple streets and before long, I had arrived.

“Oh, thank god,” Sydney bantered as I stepped inside her flta. “I thought I’d die of starvation.”

She took the bag of snacks from my hand and dug through it. Seconds later, she was tearing into one of the candy bars, barely getting the wrapper off in time to shove half of it in her mouth.

I laughed, making myself comfortable on her convertible sofa. “Happy to see you too.”

Sydney lived in one of those flats without rooms. The sofa turned into a bed at night and her kitchen was just a few feet away. I often fantasized what it would be like if she and I switched lives; working a full time job, running to the market to buy single servings of all my meals, and bringing home a special someone whenever I wanted. It all sounded so niche.

But also…so fantastical.

“Did you hear about Kiera Pinsley?” Sydney asked, joining me on the sofa.

“No, what happened?” I questioned, feeling right at home.

“The rumor is, she visited a women’s clinic last week,” Sydney responded, while popping open the bag of crisps.

“No!” I exclaimed, eyes wide. “Kiera?”

“Mmhm.” Sydney chuckled. “Apparently, she’s dating a noble.”

Sydney and I continued to gab about all of our mutual friends as we tore through the bag of crisps. Once we were completely caught up on all the hot gossip around town, she walked over to her kitchen in search of something else to snack on.

“So, what’s new in the life of Eleanor Harris?” Sydney teased as she ducked her head inside the refrigerator.

“Actually, I do have a bit of news,” I noted, sitting upright on the sofa.

“Spill!” Sydney exclaimed, popping her head out.

“Well, it’s still new, but I might be getting…married?”

Sydney’s eyes grew wide in disbelief. She rustled through a few cabinets before settling on a bag of pretzels. She sprinted back over to the couch and cracked open the pretzels.

“Eleanor Harris, are you shitting me?” she said, half joking, half serious.

I shrugged, reaching for the pretzels. “I wish I was.”

“To who?” Sydney asked, completely focused on me now. “You’re not even dating anyone!”

“I haven’t met him yet,” I admitted. “It’s an arranged marriage.”

Sydney was speechless. I knew all too well what she was feeling because I was feeling those exact emotions when my father broke the news to me.

“I thought that sort of thing was only for royals,” Sydney asked, puzzled. “How on earth did you get into this mess?”

I explained to Sydney, in full detail, what my father had disclosed to me about the state of Britain’s relationship to the United States. I told her everything, even the part about my father wanting to ask Emily, my younger sister, to go through with it. I noted how parliament and the monarchy felt that this was a matter of national security, and that a marriage between one of us and one of them would bridge the gap that had been formed.

“Oh, my god,” Sydney gasped out once I’d finished. “So, you’re the only option?”

“I’m afraid so,” I nodded.

“What about Jack? There’s no American woman for him to marry?” Sydney prodded.

I laughed. “Jack couldn’t hold down a woman if he tried. Plus, he’s only nineteen.”

“And you’re only twenty-three,” Sydney noted.

I sighed. “I know, but as the eldest daughter…this is the way it has to be.”

Sydney copied my sigh and slumped her shoulders. After a beat, she picked herself back up and sat up straight, crossing her legs on her seat. “So, who’s the mystery man? Do you know who it is yet?”

“Some party boy.” I rolled my eyes. “He’s the Vice President’s son.”

“Wait,” Sydney said, raising her hand to stop me from speaking. “Are you talking about Cal Booker?”

“You know him?” I asked, surprised.

“Everyone does!” Sydney exclaimed, reaching behind a pillow and retrieving her laptop. “He’s only the hottest bachelor in politics right now.”

“I had no idea,” I said, suddenly feeling out of the loop.

“Trust me,” Sydney continued, fiercely typing away on her keyboard. “He’s worth doing a little research.”

She turned her computer screen toward me to reveal an enlarged photograph of Cal Booker. I observed his facial features for a moment, studying every crease and every pore. His eyes looked like they told a story.

“I suppose he’s handsome,” I replied as I nodded, and Sydney practically had a panic attack.

“You suppose?!” she gasped. “This man could make me drop my bloody panties with just a look.”

“Sydney!” I sputtered. “You naughty little thing.”

“What?” Sydney shrugged. “It’s the truth. How can you not think he’s hot?”

“I don’t know,” I replied, returning my eyes to the photo. “He looks a bit sad to me. Don’t you think so?”

“Please,” Sydney scoffed. “A man like that is far from sad. He’s literally got it all. Count your blessings, sweetheart. You’ve just won the jackpot.”

Sydney continued to search up my betrothed while I pondered in silence. It seemed I was a lucky woman to be marrying such a hot commodity. Still, I just couldn’t understand the appeal. He seemed like every other playboy I’d met in uni. If my assumptions were correct, I was in for a nightmare. Blending our two worlds felt like a nearly impossible task.

“I’m scared,” I finally said, bringing my knees to my chest.

Sydney looked over at me with kind eyes. She quickly shut her laptop and put it down on the coffee table so she could comfort me.

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” she sympathized, moving closer to comfort me. “Here I am going on and on about this man as if he’s a character in a book. But this is real. It’s your life.”

“It’s alright,” I sighed, allowing my eyes to well. “I know you’re only trying to help. I’m just scared it’s not going to work. From what I’m told, he’s been nothing but trouble since his dad went into office.”

“I know,” Sydney said, placing a gentle hand on my knee. “If it makes you feel any better, he’s never done anything illegal.”

“Gosh, what a relief,” I mocked.

We both laughed and I could feel the pressure I felt leaving my body. This was why I needed to talk to Sydney. I just needed to process through my own thoughts without anyone else getting in the way.

“Thank you,” I said, wiping away a few fallen tears. “I appreciate you.”

“Always.” Sydney smiled. “We’ll get through this. Together.”

I took in a deep breath and tried to recenter myself. Sydney returned her attention back to the closed laptop sitting on the coffee table.

“Hey!” she beamed, a new idea forming instantly. “Why don’t you spend the night and we’ll stay up researching your soon to be?”

“I don’t know,” I stated, considering it. “I was supposed to play a round of tennis tomorrow morning with Jack.”

Jack and I were very close. I wanted to tell him the news about my engagement before he heard it from someone else, or worse, the media, but a night with Syndey sounded too good to pass up—at least right now.

“Postpone it!” Sydney pushed. “Come on, do something for yourself for a change. You need this.”

“Fine,” I nodded, coming around. “But I leave first thing tomorrow. I need to get home to talk to Jack before my father spills the beans.”

“I’ll set an alarm,” Sydney promised, with an excited smile.

We both squealed and Sydney ran to her closet to find a pair of pajamas for me to wear. She came back with an oversized t-shirt and a pair of tiny shorts.

“Since you’re staying, we should probably have a proper meal,” Sydney observed, while I changed into my night clothes.

“You’re always thinking about food,” I laughed, shimmying into the tiny shorts.

“And you’re not?” she teased, pulling her phone from the pocket on her sweater. “I’m thinking something light. What about Asian food?”

I nodded. “Perfect.”

Sydney quickly found a place to order from while I did my best to transform the sofa into a bed. Once we were all set up, we dove under the covers as the rickety bed tried its best to accommodate two people.

Sydney popped on the telly and clicked over to the news station. To both of our surprise, Cal Booker was on the screen, standing just a few feet away from his father who was giving a speech.

“Oh, my god, that’s him!” Sydney exclaimed, sitting right up in the bed. “That’s Cal Booker!”

I sat up alongside her as we watched. His father, Edward Booker, was delivering a speech about the hunger crisis in America. Cal made a face at something his father said, as if he didn’t believe him. I wondered what it meant.

“He looks taller there,” Sydney said, fully invested.

“I suppose so,” I answered robotically, as I continued to study Cal.

Sydney looked over at me. “You okay?” she asked with kind eyes.

“As fine as I can be,” I replied, snapping out of my trance. “None of this feels real yet.”

Sydney pulled out her phone and got to work. In seconds, she’d found several articles on Cal Booker and was sending me the links to all of them. I clicked on one of the links while we both read in silence.

“Is that right?” I asked, squinting at a line from one of the articles.

“What?” Sydney asked, looking over at me.

“It says here that Cal’s not related to his father,” I replied, reading on.

“Let me see,” Sydney stated, leaning over my shoulder to read.

“Right here,” I pointed. “It says Cal’s mother married his now father when Cal was just an infant. His real father is out of the picture.”

“Well, there’s a plot twist,” Sydney answered. “Maybe that’s why they don’t get along.”

“They don’t get along?” I asked.

“It’s never looked that way.” Sydney shrugged. “I once read an article that quoted an inside source who claimed that they bicker quite a lot.”

“Wow,” I said, a little shocked.

“Yep,” Sydney said, plainly. “Cal Booker’s got major daddy issues.”

We stayed up for a little while longer before turning off the telly. And as the room fell silent, and Sydney’s light snores began to fade into white noise, all I could find myself thinking of was Cal Brooker’s deep, haunting eyes and what stories laid behind them.