Deck the Palace (A Duched Series Holiday Novella), page 4
Dignity and duty.
Our parents would be proud.
We – Fredrick and I – as his brother certainly are.
Unlike Fredrick who has always understood his place in royal succession, his role in our aristocracy, I have not.
I have never much cared nor enjoyed the outdated – at times plain bloody archaic – rules.
Alright.
Frankly, I do not care for rules in general; however, I especially do not have any appreciation for ones that dictate where I can or cannot be, what I can or cannot eat, what I can or cannot wear, and especially who I can or cannot be seen with – intimately or otherwise.
That is the biggest benefit of being the youngest.
I truly could – and can – get away with “rules for thee but not for me”.
Me, who was early on labeled the playboy of the palace.
Me, who our parents learned to be simply grateful to see whenever it was because not seeing me was much more common.
Too common.
Something Hannah chewed and spat me out about over tequila and tacos.
Hannah, Kenneth’s wife, was quite a woman – may she rest in peace.
I know she would be absolutely pleased with the way he has conducted himself while ruling.
Honestly?
There are times where I believe he still considers her right at his side despite her being deceased.
It is almost impossible to deny her presence in some of the choices he makes.
Most certainly some of the ones their sons make.
For instance, allowing a more modern, less traditional execution of the week’s activities, starting with this tree lighting ceremony. We are doing one for simply family – and family relations – here in the grand foyer of the palace and will do the massive, outdoor production for the country to watch afterward.
It’s a compromise.
Balance.
An example that my nephew, Kellan, is capable of learning, which is a bloody fucking relief.
Him enduring the level of loss I had for most of my life is something I never wanted him – nor his brother, Kristopher – to ever experience.
“Gampaaaaa!” Killian and Kalum, Kellan and Brie’s twins, happily chime in tandem, pulling our attention away from where other guests are placing ornaments on the tree over to where they’re wiggling around in their father’s hold.
“My boys!” Kenneth joyfully exclaims at the same time he presents open palms, wordlessly offering to take one off of his son’s hands.
I never understood his enjoyment nor desire to be a grandparent until I myself became an honorary one.
Now, I absolutely get it.
The spoiling.
The loving.
The opportunity to relish in the childlike simplicity with little to no consequences.
It’s brilliant.
And magical.
And why I will most certainly be bringing up the notion of a trip for Raelyn when they call later this evening.
If we cannot find her tickets to Georgian ArKtecture, perhaps I can arrange ones to Hozier.
She – as am I – is very fond of his music.
Disney/Universal is an automatic happening.
Aside from Kellan – and my sweet Katherine – I have never met a child who had any sort of reservations about going.
“Careful,” Brie warns on an adjusting of her oversized plaid scarf. “Ki there is in his biting era.”
Kenneth warmly beams down at the suspender wearing child in his arms. “Is that why Mum has you on lockdown?” He teasingly toys with the stretchy, red material. “To prevent further crimes?”
“First off, those pin the clothes on the toddler accessories were Kellan’s idea-”
“He looks bloody adorable!” my nephew proclaims, prompting me along with Paislee to snicker.
“-and second-” she cuts herself off mid-sentence to snap, “No, Killian.” His open mouth pauses just centimeters from my brother’s knuckles. “Teeth are for food not people.”
“At least until you’re older,” I impishly add.
“How old, Uncle Trenton?” Kendall innocently inquires, red and green dress that matches her mum’s scarf, slightly swaying as she does.
“Um…” my wincing leads to the adults chuckling and the untangling of myself from Paislee. “What are you holding there, Little Lady Kendall?” Squatting down to eye level instantly receives a wide grin. “Is it a present?”
“It is!” she enthusiastically squeaks. “Our ornturniment for you and Aunt Paislee!”
Onmyloveoftheocean, I only dare to imagine how even sweeter it would be to hear someone refer to her as my wife.
However, this is an acceptable runner up.
It establishes all that I wish her to know.
That which she still struggles to accept.
She is already a member of this family.
Our. Family.
Titles are remarkable yet unnecessary.
They will not change more than the legal rights she is entitled to in our future years together.
I understand her stance.
And despite not liking it – loathing it to be completely honest – I respect it.
I respect she is a widow.
I respect that that level of commitment again is a bit frightening.
I respect her concern that becoming one with me somehow diminishes what she had with Patton.
I respect her choices while doing my best to adjust to them.
I would never ask her to erase Patton.
He was – as much as it pains me to admit – a great man.
Gave her love.
Life.
A daughter.
Nurtured and supported her in ways at the time I could not.
Ways I am at this later stage in my life just learning to.
He was faithful.
He was a very important love in her life.
Not the love of her life; however, he had his place.
Purpose.
And that will be forever honored.
We even have photos that feature him around our beachside estate – that was once just my beachside estate – because it is important for Desi and Rae to see those memories and to completely believe me when I say, I am not trying to replace him.
I am simply trying to love the woman who was willing to learn to love me again now that he is gone.
I do believe Desi comprehends to her deepest depths not only the position I am doing my best to captain but the choppy, uncertain, uncharted waters that are difficult to navigate.
Rae – on the other hand – was not alive for her biological grandfather making me the only one she’s ever known to be with grandmother.
I do not hate this.
And I also do not feel guilty for not hating it.
Even if perhaps I should.
“Growing up,” Brie begins, collecting the group’s focus, “every year we did a silly little ornament exchange. Around Thanksgiving, we would pull a name out of a stocking and then have to pick out – or craft – that person an ornament to be the first that they put on the tree that year.” Her smile becomes a bit softer. More wistful. “Obviously, we can’t do that with the monolith masquerading as a mega tree outdoors because that would crush the whole ‘holiday aesthetic’ approved by the press team but-”
“One of the rare buts I do like,” cheekily injects her husband.
“-we can decorate this one,” she gestures to the object people – including members of our security teams – are clamoring around, “however, and with whatever we’ve swapped.”
“Who name you get Uncle Trenton?” curiously questions the bow wearing little beauty in front of me.
“Aunt Paislee and I got your Grandpa.”
“Ohbloodyhell,” he grumbles during an adjustment of Killian who is now occupied with trying to remove his own wine-red bowtie. “Is it child appropriate?”
“Mostly,” I juvenilely chuckle.
Paislee offers him the small, ribbon bearing box prompting him to investigate further, “Is something going to attack me when I open it?”
“I open,” Kalum swiftly volunteers at the same time he tries to stretch over.
“No, no,” Kellan reprimands and smoothly creates space. “You opened yours already from Uncle Hugh and Aunt Dana, remember? It was a dinosaur.”
“Rawwwrrrr,” roars Killian attention immediately drawn to them. “Mimeosaur!”
“I got a gummy bear,” Kendall announces prior to leaning closer to confess, “and a bag of red and green gummy bears too!”
“Hugh swore he did not give you any candy,” huffs her father between his son’s roars.
“He not.” The corners of her lips kick upward reminding me of her mum. “Aunt Dana did.”
“Technicalities for the win,” mirthfully leaves me as I resume a standing position.
“It is safe,” Paislee promises and leans into my hold the instant my arm is around her waist once more. “You have my word.”
“And mine.”
“Only one of you is to be trusted,” he murmurs while removing the lid. “The other is the reason I – to this bloody day – still test a dash of salt on my palm before shaking it onto my food.”
There’s no reason to hide my amused grin.
“Wait,” Brie quietly interrupts, “is that why Kris does that too?!” Her brown gaze cuts over to Kellan’s blue. “Because you pulled the whole sugar and salt swap when you were kids?!”
“One of the first pranks Uncle Trenton ever taught me.”
“It is classic,” I casually insist.
“You are sooooo not teaching the twins that,” is attached a displeased headshake. “Or Kendall!”
I will not agree to those terms or conditions.
“Huh,” grunts my oldest brother in amusement, “is this a pint?”
He angles the object in my nephew’s direction at the same time Paislee announces, “Handcrafted.”
Kenneth hits her with a sarcastic stare.
“I am being absolutely serious.” Seeing her smile extends mine. “Your brother put it together. I simply acquired the materials and stopped him from repeatedly touching it to test if it were dry.”
“You let my baby brother use a hot glue gun?” Kenneth jocosely goads. “All on his own?!”
“I did,” my girlfriend joins in on the joking. “It was quite the mess to clean up.”
My pointed finger playfully waggles in his direction. “I suffered third degree burns for you; I will have you know.”
“No,” swiftly escapes my better half while shaking her head. “That was barely a first degree.” Her warm gaze finds mine. “I have suffered harsher redness retrieving a plate you left by the pool during lunch.”
“Dramatic,” laughs the man holding the gift I actually enjoyed crafting. “Always so bloody dramatic.” He offers Killian the lid to play with as a distraction. “Honestly, how is it you are even worse than when we were boys?”
“We will always simply be boys, Kenneth.” Our grins reach the same shade of glowing. “Just with grayer hair.”
Additional chuckles fill the space prior to him offering me a polite nod. “Thank you for the ornament.” He glances at Paislee. “And you for your efforts as well.” Another adjustment of his wiggly grandson is made. “Perhaps we will do something like this again next year, and your other family will be able to join us as well.”
Her jaw cracks slightly open yet nothing slips free.
“I told you you were welcomed here, my everything.”
“Come on along, Bitey McGee,” my brother cheekily chastises. “You can help me find the perfect spot on the tree for it.”
“Teeeeee!” echoes Kalum while needily reaching out to join them.
“We can join them,” Kellan insists and leans over to kiss Brie goodbye on the cheek. “You can show Grandpa your ornaments afterward.”
“Rawwwwwrrrrr!” Killian repeats during their exit.
“My turn! My Turn! My turn!” Kendall squeals unable to contain herself any longer. “From us!”
“You do the honors,” I insist to the woman in my arms, thumb gently stroking the skin in its possession.
Our stares meet upon her asking, “Are you certain?”
“Of course.” An innocent shrug is delivered. “It is for both of us if I recall correctly.”
“Yes!” my great niece agrees. “For Uncle Trenton and Aunt Paislee!”
Once more, her frame melts over the title. “Alright, Little Lady. If you insist.”
“Merrrryyyyyy Christmas!” she shouts while doing her best to lift the medium sized box.
Leaning slightly forward, my girlfriend graciously accepts the offering. “Thank you.” Afterward, her eyes find Brie’s. “And thank you.”
“Merry Christmas,” Brie echoes, hand folding with her daughter’s. “We all had so much fun making them.”
“And they are homemade?” My free hand theatrically clutches my chest. “Not store bought?”
“No store,” Kendall proudly states. “We all do it. Even Daddy!”
“Yes and making Kellan m-i-s-e-r-a-b-l-e with arts and crafts will forever be one my favorite types of activities.” Sassily winks Brie.
“You are perfect for my nephew.”
“Aren’t I though?” she snickers back.
“Troublemakers the lot of you,” giggles my everything as she pulls at the ribbon to grant herself access to the box. Removing the lid is swiftly followed by a giant gasp that’s worth me leaning over to get a better glimpse of the content. “They are all beach related!”
“There’s one for Sammy too!” my great niece points in spite of the fact she can’t see the contents at the moment.
“We know how much you both love the ocean – especially you Paislee – so deciding the theme was easy. The kids all picked what color glass balls and then – with assistance – helped glue the rope material on top in the… ‘creative’ patterns you see,” Brie explains in between our admiring, “and then Kellan and I did the beach sign in the ball but let Kendall pick the sand and seashells.”
“They are all so beautiful,” coos the woman beside me. “So special.”
“You are special,” reiterates the Kindergartener. “And family!”
“Definitely family,” I playfully echo with an eyebrow waggle.
“Let us go put them on the tree!” Kendall’s command barely precedes her grabbing each of our hands and escorting us over to the gorgeous, 2.8-meter evergreen.
Squeezing our way into an opening near Kris and Soph’s nanny is made easier due to Kendall’s undeniable adorableness. It doesn’t take long for her to point to where she wants us to drape the object, something that simply makes the entire event even more wonderful.
Laughter is exchanged.
Smiles continuously brighten.
Conversation between everyone flows much like the gingerbread cookies and White Christmas Russians.
By the time the entire group has finished, Paislee and I are positioned near the back, her cradling a beverage while I cradle her.
I cannot help myself.
Although, I suppose if I could I still would not.
I love her in my arms.
I want her in my arms.
Now.
Forever.
Always.
“Yes,” Paislee unexpectedly whispers over her shoulder, pulling my attention away from watching my brothers have a heated debated about where to officially plug the tree in.
I lock onto her brown gaze and fold my fingers firmly on top of her stomach. “Yes, what, my everything?”
“Yes, Trenton,” her mouth momentarily bobs as though collecting courage, “I will marry you.”
Disbelief drops my jaw.
Has me hesitant to move.
Blink.
Think.
Words mainly consisting of air creep past my parted lips. “You…are…certain?”
“Yes,” she repeats with more strength in her voice, frame carefully turning to face me, glass free hand being offered for the marking. “I want to spend what remains of my life with you on and off paper.”
Bliss I can hardly believe exists – let alone that I am entitled to it – rips through me, granting my fingers nimbleness they’ve never known. I expeditiously remove the necklace, acquire the ring, and gently glide it into place with a hand so shaky an earthquake would consider it a mating call.
The instant it’s where it belongs…where it has always belonged…I cup her cheeks with both my palms preparing for a kiss. “This is officially the best holiday season of my entire life.”
The Snuggle is Real
(Starring Cliff Danes & Katherine Kenningston)
Cliff
“So,” Tiberius Chen, my golden crème brulee skinned best mate and fellow athlete from Vlasta University begins between cookie smacks, “when you finally stop being a simpskies…”
“I am not being a simpskies,” leaves me in a grumble between another adjustment of the gift I’m trying to wrap.
“And you go from bein’ on the D to bein’ on the O…”
“Is that a sports metaphor?” Kellan Kenningston, my honorary dad – who I often call Dad – inquires from where he’s leaning against the edge of the white marble, island counter also munching on a Viennese Whirl, though sharing bits of his with our family dog, Goldie.
“Yes,” I quietly retort on another turn of the fluffy object.
“Are you plannin’ like a smash and dash or broadskiing her for life?”
“Is that a shag act?” Dad investigates further, warranting my hazel stare to find his blue. “Is broadskiing a reference to actual skiing?” He momentarily refrains from having another bite. “Are these American idioms I should be aware of?”
“Hockey idioms from a hockey idiot,” I playfully chuckle prompting the guy across from me to violently clear his throat. “My apologies.” Both of my warm vanilla toned hands are lifted in surrender. “Hockey idioms from a puckhead.”
“Thank you,” he states on a proud nod pulling more laughter out of me.
Chen and I interestingly enough have eerily similar stories, which is quite impressive considering we grew up in completely different countries.
Both of us were rescued by Dad’s programs.
