The Virgin
Page 117
“Are you ready for the big day tomorrow?” Nora asked, looking deep into her dark brown eyes. “You have your petals all ready to throw?”
“I’m ready,” she said, nodding solemnly. She reached out with her small hand and laid her palm on Nora’s neck. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“You know the rule,” Nora reminded her in a faux stern voice. Céleste was being raised bilingual, and teaching her that not everyone spoke French had been the hardest part of the process. “French with Maman and Papa, and English with everyone else.”
Céleste groaned.
“Ask your question again,” Nora said.
“What is that?” Céleste tapped Nora’s collar. “That thing on your neck.”
Kingsley chuckled and Juliette sighed. Any child growing up in the home of Kingsley Edge was sure to receive an interesting and thorough education in alternative lifestyles.
“What do you think it is?” Nora asked her.
“It looks like a dog collar.”
“That’s exactly what it is. Didn’t you know I was a dog?” Nora growled and barked, and Céleste exploded into giggles. Nora gave her a play bite on the neck.
“Don’t get her wound up before bed,” Kingsley said to Nora.
“She does the same thing to me,” Søren said. Nora couldn’t decide who to glare at—Kingsley or Søren—so she glared at them both.
“Go kiss your uncle good-night,” she told Céleste. “And then go to sleep so I don’t get in trouble with your papa.”
Céleste kissed Søren on the cheek and he kissed her back. Juliette swept her daughter off the bed and into her arms again.
“I heard the good news, by the way,” Nora said. Juliette grinned at her. “I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Thank you,” she said. She nodded down at Céleste. “Someone doesn’t know yet.”
“Know what?” Céleste asked.
“That it’s your bedtime,” Juliette said.
“I knew that.” Céleste rolled her eyes, a know-it-all at age three.
“Are you coming to bed?” Juliette asked Kingsley.
“Is it safe?” he asked.
“I make no promises. But you should leave them alone.” Juliette glanced at Søren and Nora. “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
“Fine. I’m coming,” Kingsley said.
“That’s right—you are.” Juliette pointed her finger at the center of his chest. “It’s a good thing I’m already expecting or that kilt would get me in trouble.”
“You are trouble,” Kingsley said to her. “I’ll be there soon. Stay awake.”
Juliette bent and kissed him before bidding them all a good-night and leaving with Céleste. She threw one last “You better behave” look at Kingsley over her shoulder before departing.
“God, I am a lucky man,” Kingsley said. “What did I ever do to deserve her?”
“Chained her to a bed for a week?” Nora asked. “That’s one way to get a girl.”
“That was a good week.” Kingsley stood up. “I should see if she packed the ankle chains.”
“Good night, King,” Nora said. “Try to survive the night. We need all our groomsmen in one piece.”
Kingsley looked at her, at Søren, and laughed.
“It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” Kingsley said. “After all we put each other through that we’re still together. All of us. A fucking miracle.”
Nora laughed. “Miracle is the word for it.”
“In the New Testament,” Søren said, putting on his most priestly voice, “the word miracle isn’t used in most translations. The phrase signs and wonders appears instead. I prefer that terminology. A miracle is a discrete act, special in and of itself but with no greater meaning to it. A sign, however, is trying to tell us something.”
“What do you think it’s a sign of?” Kingsley asked. “That we’re all still together after everything?”
“I know,” Nora said.
“What is it then?” Kingsley crossed his arms and leaned against the bedpost.
Nora unclasped the necklace she always wore that held the two engraved bands Søren had given her two Christmases ago and the little silver locket Nico had asked her to wear while they were apart.
“Your son gave this to me,” she said, opening the locket. “Nico said my naughty stories remind him of The Canterbury Tales. So he gave me this.”
She held it out to Kingsley.
“Amor vincit omnia,” Kingsley read. He looked at Søren for the translation.
“Love conquers all,” Søren said.
“That’s what we’re a sign of,” Nora said. “The three of us. This wedding. Everything. Amor vincit omnia.”
“Amen,” Søren said.
“That,” Kingsley said, “even I can say amen to.” He gave Nora her silver locket back. She slipped it onto the chain and clasped it back around her neck where it belonged.
“I’ll walk you out,” Søren said to Kingsley, and Nora bit back a smile. They left the room together and she crawled into bed and curled up on Søren’s pillow. He was a right side of the bed sleeper and would no doubt take issue with her stealing his side. Good.
“I’m ready,” she said, nodding solemnly. She reached out with her small hand and laid her palm on Nora’s neck. “Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“You know the rule,” Nora reminded her in a faux stern voice. Céleste was being raised bilingual, and teaching her that not everyone spoke French had been the hardest part of the process. “French with Maman and Papa, and English with everyone else.”
Céleste groaned.
“Ask your question again,” Nora said.
“What is that?” Céleste tapped Nora’s collar. “That thing on your neck.”
Kingsley chuckled and Juliette sighed. Any child growing up in the home of Kingsley Edge was sure to receive an interesting and thorough education in alternative lifestyles.
“What do you think it is?” Nora asked her.
“It looks like a dog collar.”
“That’s exactly what it is. Didn’t you know I was a dog?” Nora growled and barked, and Céleste exploded into giggles. Nora gave her a play bite on the neck.
“Don’t get her wound up before bed,” Kingsley said to Nora.
“She does the same thing to me,” Søren said. Nora couldn’t decide who to glare at—Kingsley or Søren—so she glared at them both.
“Go kiss your uncle good-night,” she told Céleste. “And then go to sleep so I don’t get in trouble with your papa.”
Céleste kissed Søren on the cheek and he kissed her back. Juliette swept her daughter off the bed and into her arms again.
“I heard the good news, by the way,” Nora said. Juliette grinned at her. “I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Thank you,” she said. She nodded down at Céleste. “Someone doesn’t know yet.”
“Know what?” Céleste asked.
“That it’s your bedtime,” Juliette said.
“I knew that.” Céleste rolled her eyes, a know-it-all at age three.
“Are you coming to bed?” Juliette asked Kingsley.
“Is it safe?” he asked.
“I make no promises. But you should leave them alone.” Juliette glanced at Søren and Nora. “They haven’t seen each other in weeks.”
“Fine. I’m coming,” Kingsley said.
“That’s right—you are.” Juliette pointed her finger at the center of his chest. “It’s a good thing I’m already expecting or that kilt would get me in trouble.”
“You are trouble,” Kingsley said to her. “I’ll be there soon. Stay awake.”
Juliette bent and kissed him before bidding them all a good-night and leaving with Céleste. She threw one last “You better behave” look at Kingsley over her shoulder before departing.
“God, I am a lucky man,” Kingsley said. “What did I ever do to deserve her?”
“Chained her to a bed for a week?” Nora asked. “That’s one way to get a girl.”
“That was a good week.” Kingsley stood up. “I should see if she packed the ankle chains.”
“Good night, King,” Nora said. “Try to survive the night. We need all our groomsmen in one piece.”
Kingsley looked at her, at Søren, and laughed.
“It’s a miracle, isn’t it?” Kingsley said. “After all we put each other through that we’re still together. All of us. A fucking miracle.”
Nora laughed. “Miracle is the word for it.”
“In the New Testament,” Søren said, putting on his most priestly voice, “the word miracle isn’t used in most translations. The phrase signs and wonders appears instead. I prefer that terminology. A miracle is a discrete act, special in and of itself but with no greater meaning to it. A sign, however, is trying to tell us something.”
“What do you think it’s a sign of?” Kingsley asked. “That we’re all still together after everything?”
“I know,” Nora said.
“What is it then?” Kingsley crossed his arms and leaned against the bedpost.
Nora unclasped the necklace she always wore that held the two engraved bands Søren had given her two Christmases ago and the little silver locket Nico had asked her to wear while they were apart.
“Your son gave this to me,” she said, opening the locket. “Nico said my naughty stories remind him of The Canterbury Tales. So he gave me this.”
She held it out to Kingsley.
“Amor vincit omnia,” Kingsley read. He looked at Søren for the translation.
“Love conquers all,” Søren said.
“That’s what we’re a sign of,” Nora said. “The three of us. This wedding. Everything. Amor vincit omnia.”
“Amen,” Søren said.
“That,” Kingsley said, “even I can say amen to.” He gave Nora her silver locket back. She slipped it onto the chain and clasped it back around her neck where it belonged.
“I’ll walk you out,” Søren said to Kingsley, and Nora bit back a smile. They left the room together and she crawled into bed and curled up on Søren’s pillow. He was a right side of the bed sleeper and would no doubt take issue with her stealing his side. Good.
