Page 159 of My Husband Problem

He smiles at all of us and stands to greet us. “Welcome! It’s so wonderful to see all of you!”

My grandmother keeps her seat, but her smile is bright as well, and she tilts her cheek to accept kisses from everyone as they greet her.

There is a full tea service on the table in front of them, but they seem to have finished.

Because it is the King’s chambers—Torin and Abigail have taken over an entirely different wing of the palace—there’s plenty of seating for everyone, and our group spreads out throughout the room.

My grandfather focuses on Alex first of all people and strides forward, extending his hand. “Alex, my boy, the new hockey team is absolutely delightful.”

Astrid makes a little squeak next to me. The hockey team is her baby after all.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Alex says, casting his sister a glance with a wry smile.

“What would you think of a circus theme?” Diarmuid asks.

Obviously surprised, Alex repeats, “A circus theme?”

“You should be the ringmaster, of course. Then various animals, multiple tricks, there could be clowns,” the king says. “Definitely a ring of fire.”

“A ring of fire on theice?” Alex asks.

Diarmuid claps Alex on the shoulder, laughing. “Isn’t that a great idea?”

Now, when Alex looks at Astrid, his expression clearly says,Help me.

But Astrid has settled back against my side, obviously more than happy now to let Alex discuss bonkers hockey with the king.

“I can absolutely talk to our Parks and Rec Director about that,” Alex says, reaching for Nora.

Nora dodges his grasp, ducking behind Iris with a soft giggle.

“She and Astrid actually come up with a lot of the ideas and themes,” Alex goes on.

Diarmuid nods. “Tell her you also need to incorporate more eighties rock.”

Maybe he’s forgotten that Alex’s Nora is the one to talk to about such things. Or maybe he really wants Alex’s take on his ideas. Or maybe he’s messing with all of us. Any of the above are possible.

He goes on, “I understand that the current music speaks to a certain audience, but there are plenty of us watching who would appreciate more of the oldies.”

“The eighties are oldies?” Linnea asks, sounding genuinely curious.

“Well, they do Sinatra, and I’ve heard some Eagles and Fleetwood Mac.” The king looks at Alex. “All solid choices, of course. But we need more Springsteen. And what about Prince? Madonna?”

I look from Astrid to Iris to Linnea to Cian.

It’s clear none of us realized that our grandfather knew Madonna.

“You’re an eighties rock fan? Really?” Cian asks.

“All people with any taste and even an ounce of fun are eighties rock fans,” Diarmuid informs him. He narrows his eyes slightly. “I think you would agree I have tasteandthat I’m fun.”

Cian chokes on a laugh, then nods solemnly. “Themostfun.”

I was here in Cara, in this very palace, until I was eighteen. Unless my grandfather had an existential crisis that changed everything about his personality, fun was not an adjective anyone would ever have used to describe him.

Though I’ve often wished I could have been a fly on the wall for that drunken poker game he played with Alfred…

“We could actually do an entire night of eighties rock,” Nora says, stepping out from behind Iris, finally unable to contain her creative theme-night-loving self.