British Guys Aren't Cute

British Guys Aren't Cute - Epilogue

"We're supposed to have just a small family affair".  

Prince William to Kate Middleton's father just before the wedding

Epilogue

"Roisin! For christ sake clean your room!" Nora shouted walking out of her daughter's messy room.

"But they will be here any minute, Mum!" a voice shouted back from down the hall, her daughter emerging into sight. Roisin looked like a female version of her father, with his blue eyes and brown hair, not to mention the fact that she was almost taller than her mother. 

"Even more bloody reason to start cleaning now!" Nora replied, rolling her eyes. Roisin let out a sign before running past her mother and into her room, desperate to clean it as quickly as possible. Nora smiled at her daughter before walking down the hall and heading downstairs. She walked into the kitchen, catching sight of Milo and James, her son. Both guys looked up at Nora as she entered the kitchen, Nora's presence pulling them out of their own conversation. 

"I'll talk to you later," James said before turning away, smiling nervously at his mum as he passed her. James had the same blue eyes as Milo had, but he looked more like Nora with round face and nose. At 16, James was older than Roisin by two years, a difference that James never let Roisin forget. He had been ill as a child, leukemia. It had it the family badly but they had managed to pull through it as James got better. Nora looked back at her husband, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Don't ask dear, I'm sworn under oath not to tell you!" Milo laughed, reading Nora's mind.

"Please!" She whined, "I'm his mother, I'm suppose to know everything about my son!" 

"Sorry, you'll have to ask him!"

"At least give me a clue!" Nora questioned, walking slowly towards her husband, a smile on her face. Milo just shook his head slowly at his wife, a grin appearing on his face. Nora just rolled her eyes at Milo slapping him lightly as she did. Milo and James were inseparable. While Roisin was just on a world of her own, James told Milo everything, and he gave him advice on it. As much as Nora loved their bond, she really wished that she was as close to James as her husband was. "Fine then, If you don't tell me, I'll tell our dear children what happened in Amsterdam back when they were kids," Nora threatened, her mind going back through the memories.

"Nora, you wouldn't! You promised you wouldn't say!" Milo groaned, his blue eyes going wide. 

"Ah, but I would! Tell me or I'll tell them!" Nora smiled, her eyes shining with glee. Milo pulled his wife closer to him, holding her waist, pulling her down onto him as he leaned against the kitchen counter. Instead of answering her, Milo simply placed his lips on Nora's. She instantly kissed him back, practically forgetting what they had been speaking about. Nora's mind filled with all the happy thoughts, replaying in her mind, a smile forming on her lips as she kissed Milo. 

The first few years after James was born was hard. He was ill for most of his childhood, and it was even harder when the king fell ill. But then when Nora found out that she was expecting Roisin, everything seemed to slowly get better, the queen's health improved and when Roisin was four, James was given the all clear. They had their troubles, their little bumps on the road, but for the most part, Nora was happy - and as long as her family was happy and healthy, she was too. 

"Gross! Seriously, get a room!" a voice whined from behind them, Nora pulling her self off her husband before looking behind her to see Roisin looking less than pleased over finding her parents making out in the kitchen. "Seriously, you refuse leave me and Leo alone in a room, but you're allowed to scar your daughters innocent mind!" She added, referring to her boyfriend of six months.   Milo let out a groan at the mention of Leo's name. To say he was less than pleased that his fourteen year old daughter had a boyfriend was an understatement - he had convinced himself that Roisin wouldn't be dating until she was at least twenty four.