Chapter 12

Richard Castle took a long drink from his Starbucks cup before letting out a long exhale. Okay, nine-thirty in the morning was not that early or that unreasonable of an hour for a Thursday. However, since it felt like four-thirty due to the time change, Castle felt he was going to need more than one cup of coffee to trudge through. In fact, he thought seven or eight ought to do it.

If Castle had his way, he would have lounged around his hotel room until at least ten or eleven. Even that wasn't a decent hour on East Coast time, but it was closer, however his maid of honor duties precluded him from such desires. He needed to meet Kate outside a bakery promptly at nine-thirty—not a second later! At least, he thought with another sigh into his drink, he'd get some dessert out of the deal.

At nine-thirty-one a black taxi pulled up out front of the shop. Wearing jeans and a cranberry short-sleeved blouse, her hair in a ponytail, Kate stepped out, tipped the driver, and then approached her friend. "Look at us—on the streets of London together."

"Indeed." He bowed his head to her as he passed over her latte.

She accepted it graciously and took a long drink from it before clutching the take-out cup close to her chest. "Oh yeah…I've missed this. But…I'll get used to tea, right?"

Castle pursed his lips. "I'll send you a year's supply of Starbucks K-cups."

"Bless you."

He laughed then straightened his expression when a thought hit him. "Hey we've…we've never been out of the country together, have we?"

"Mm nope," she said before taking another sip of coffee. As she could count the number of times she had left the United States on one hand, she was certain none of those times had been with Castle. They had, however, been on several group vacations together including one to Las Vegas and another to Orlando.

As a general rule, Kate liked traveling with Castle and his posse—and not just because traveling with Castle generally meant many travel upgrades. As he spent many hours avoiding his writing and procrastinating by visiting dozens of sites on the Internet, Castle's vacations were always well-researched. He took them to interesting places and restaurants off the beaten path. She always appreciated his unique take on things and had yet to have a bad time on a trip with him. (Well, except that night with the strippers in Vegas, but she'd forgive him that one trespass; they had all had more than their fair share of alcohol that evening.)

"So, shall we?" he said, gesturing towards the bakery. She nodded and approached the door. Castle stepped ahead of her and opened the door for her. "So…explain why you and I are checking out the wedding cake instead of you and your husband-to-be?"

Kate let out a long sigh. "Because…William is helping pack up all the things we need for the wedding and taking them out to the country house. Then, he'll come back to London to pick up you, me, and my father so we can go out there together."

Castle's brow wrinkled. Kate's tone made it seems as though William's task was akin to scaling Everest when, really, it didn't seem that big of a deal. Castle did not know how far the country house was from London, but given the descriptions of it he'd heard, he doubted it was much more than an hour's drive; ninety minutes at most. William's task could have been construed as slightly inconvenient but certainly not that bad. "Okay…?"

Kate shut her eyes and shook her head quickly. Then, plastering a fake smile across her face, she turned to her friend. "Nothing, it's nothing. William and I just had a…disagreement about it this morning but it's fine." With that, she walked up to the man standing behind the bakery's counter.

Castle trailed a few steps behind her when she went. Interesting, very interesting. As with most women, he knew that Kate describing the situation as "fine" meant it was anything but. In fact, he hazarded to guess that "a…disagreement" meant fight. Castle fought a smile at this notion. Kate and William fighting was definitely good for him—very good.

"Castle." Kate's voice pulled Castle from daydreams of Kate and William having a knock-down-drag-out in his parent's fancy dining room.

"Hmm? What? Sorry."

"It's okay." She laughed lightly. "I just thought you'd want to try the cake."

He stepped forward eagerly and grasped the fork she handed him. As he had only eaten part of his room service breakfast, he was starving. So starving, in fact, that he didn't bother to notice the fact that the wedding Kate did not exactly look like traditional wedding case—traditional in the American sense. Castle dove right in, took a huge bite and immediately grimaced. "What am I eating?"

"Wedding cake."

"No."

"Yes."

"No." Castle swallowed hard before taking a gulp of coffee to cleanse his palate. "What's wrong with it?"

Having somewhat intentionally caught her friend off-guard, Kate could not help but let out a soft chuckle. "Traditionally, British wedding cakes are fruit cakes."

Castle could not have grimaced more harshly if she told him the cake was made from anchovies and rotten eggs. "Oh god why? I, ah, sorry," he added quickly at the scowl on the baker's face.

Kate stole the fork back from Castle and took a bite. Okay, so it was not a cake she would have chosen, but it really wasn't that bad. This cake was hardly the Americanized fruitcakes that more strongly resembled rocks than dessert. It tasted decent enough (though, to be fair, she did not taste much else other than the brandy). "It's good."

"Or you're lying," he challenged.

She shot him a glare so he would not continue to embarrass her in front of the already perturbed baker. Taking the hint, the writer ducked out of the bakery and out onto the sidewalk while shaking his head. Fruit cake for wedding cake? Ridiculous. Now he actually felt bad for Kate if she went through with this preposterous thing. Who wanted cheated out of a delicious vanilla cake with buttercream icing and perhaps a raspberry filling. Or—oh! Chocolate cake with raspberry filling. Yes, that was better and, damn, now he was hungry again.

Several minutes later Kate returned to the sidewalk and Castle asked, "Did you order your gross cake?"

"Castle," she said, her tone warning.

"What? It was gross. As your maid of honor I feel it's my duty to have an opinion."

Kate 'hmm-'ed into her coffee cup before suggesting they walk up the adjoining street. "Actually there's something I wanted to mention to you."

Intrigued, he glanced over at her. "Oh?"

Kate sucked in a deep breath and glanced over at her companion. This was not a conversation she looked forward to having, but given how unhappy her future husband sounded during their discussion about it the prior evening, she knew the subjected needed broached whether she liked it or not. "William said you said something to him last night…"

Castle stopped walking and thought for a moment. From Kate's tone he knew she was referring to something negative, but he had tried so hard to be polite and proper. He hadn't said anything that would—oh. Except for when he told William he didn't deserve Kate; that probably wasn't his smartest move.

Locking eyes with his friend he said, "He was being a punk; I called him out on it." With that, he kept walking.

Kate scurried after him. "A punk?" That adjective to describe her fiancé was downright preposterous. "I don't think anyone could ever describe William has a punk."

Castle huffed. Okay, Kate wanted it played straight, he'd play it straight. "Punk was my choice word for douchebag asshole."

Kate flinched as though a blast of cold air had been blown into her face. "Harsh."

Again, Castle stopped walking. "Well I'm sorry Kate, but if you're upset and your future husband brushes it off with little concern, then-"

"No, he wasn't." Kate jumped quickly to William's defense. "He asked how I was doing the second I went back inside—after you left. I…he's just stressed about the wedding and going to Cairo in less than a month."

Castle said nothing as they continued down the street. He wanted their argument to continue. He wanted to lay it all out for her. Tell her that William was no good and he would be far, far better for her, but he couldn't. He knew from how quickly she defended him Kate would not be receptive to such an opinion. Instead, he decided on a different approach.

"Speaking of…I was never able to ask you: what are you going to do in Cairo? I mean, do you have a job?" Truly, he'd been wondering it for a few days. When he first heard about her move to Cairo he'd been so stunned that the information barely processed in his mind. Cairo. The notion was so abstract his brain simply stopped computing, but in time it sunk in. She was going to Africa for possibly up to a year. A year during which he wouldn't see her at all. Just the thought of it broke his heart.

"No, not this quickly. All the universities would have already hired their staff. Besides, I haven't been teaching that long. Only had my doctorate for a year and a half. It'd be hard for me to get a job. I'm just going to work on publishing, actually."

"And you'll be there for a full year?"

Kate bobbed her head. "Officially, William is only signed on for the fall semester, but he's very confident the work will continue into the spring."

"But then you'll be back in New York? Or return to London?" He hoped for the former, for more than a year away from her was a fate too horrible to imagine.

"I don't know," she replied honestly. "Anthropologists move around a lot more than literature professors do. We'll just have to play it by ear and see what happens."

Castle stopped abruptly and blinked at his friend. "See what happens? You? Miss 'Even my plans have plans.'"

She laughed. "I'm not that bad, Castle."

"Surely you jest. You forget I witnessed you have a complete and total meltdown when your subway stop was going to be closed for a month."

Her jaw dropped. Only Castle's elephant-like memory would retain such an incident. "Okay, first: I was twenty-two. Second, I had terrible PMS that day."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself…" he replied teasingly.

She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a playful slug. "C'mon let's go find something to eat."

Castle's eyes lit up. "Brunch!?"

Laughing at his enthusiasm she said, "Sure, why not."

Three hours later after picking up the elder Beckett from the airport and loading everyone's luggage into the car, their trek to the Fitzgerald country residence was complete. To say that the home was impressive would have been a grand understatement. In fact, Castle's exact reaction contained more than a few curses, which earned him a rear-view mirror glare from the Fitzgerald behind the wheel of their Land Rover.

Upon first sight of the expansive, all stone exterior home, the writer understood why Kate had originally described the home as a castle; it resembled a royal residence more than a little bit. He imagined that to be truly classified as a castle the home would have needed to be larger and contain a few turrets, perhaps a moat or even a drawbridge; it had none of those things. The Fitzgerald home was simply a very old, very large residence currently owned by William's uncle, who was generously allowing his nephew to use the space for his wedding while they were, unfortunately, in Greece for a summer holiday.

Inside the palatial home, Castle settled himself into one of the many guest rooms. He would be bunking with Javier when he arrived early the next morning; Kevin and Jenny would have the room across the hall. Originally, none of them planned on attending the wedding simply due to a factor of cost; they could not afford an international plane ticket on such short notice. When, however, it became obvious Castle's grand wedding-ruining plans would not come to fruition while Kate was still in the States, Castle purchased tickets for his three friends, knowing they'd want a front row seat for the wedding implosion. This was all done under the guise of not wanting Kate's very good friends to miss out on her special day—a perfect cover story, if Castle thought so himself.

After unpacking his suitcase and hanging up his nicer clothing, Castle headed off to explore the house and grounds. Per the wedding schedule he knew that Kate, her father, William and his parents were having their first meet-and-greet over afternoon tea. As he passed the dining room on the way out of the home, Castle heard the faint sounds of cups scraping against saucers and the low hum of chatter; he made a mental note to ask Jim what he thought of the Fitzgerald's at the first available opportunity.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Castle headed out onto the grounds, following the paved brick path out into the garden and the surrounding land. Despite it being August, there was a definite crispness to the air and he was glad for his long pants and long button-down with the sleeves rolled to the elbow; in anything else he probably would have been chilly.

Castle wandered around, observing the space for the better part of forty minutes before taking a seat on a garden bench and staring out across the rolling landscape. Begrudgingly, he had to admit that the Fitzgerald residence was a nice one. Unquestionably, he preferred his Manhattan loft and Hamptons beach house, but if he had to be stuck living in that home for the rest of his life he didn't think he would be terribly unhappy.

With this notion, his thoughts turned back to the bride to be. Kate spending a year in Cairo? He couldn't see it. Just walking the five hundred feet from his house to the surf had her griping on most days (though he couldn't understand it, she always claimed to dislike the texture of sand against her feet). Plus, he didn't know of anyone not made of wax who would melt quicker than Kate on a blistering hot summer day. She was a city girl through and through and, as far as he was aware, archaeologists didn't spend too much time in major cities; there wasn't a whole lot to dig up there. Thus, he could not see her happy spending her life with William—wherever they landed.

As though she had been summoned by his thoughts of her, not one minute later Castle heard a gentle, "Hey," floating towards his ears. Turning his head, he saw her approaching with a knitted brow. She sat beside him on the bench and said nothing so he prompted with, "How was tea?"

With one look from her he could tell the inaugural introductions had not gone off without any hitches. "Oh so it went well then?" he asked with notable sarcasm.

She let out a mirthless laugh. "About as well as it went when you met them."

Castle thought back to the night before and his first interactions with the elder Fitzgeralds. All in all, he did not think their meal had gone that badly. True, his comment at the end about William not deserving Kate was ill-advised and probably should not have been said, however up until that point he had not openly offended them. Castle and the Fitzgeralds were from different worlds and it was obvious that in any other situation they would not have socialized but still he didn't think it had been completely disastrous. Applying those thoughts to Kate's father he said, "But your dad's a classy guy—classier than me." He guessed Jim Beckett was wise enough not to make the faux pas of an inadvertent fart joke during the soup course.

Kate shook her head gently. "But he's a solicitor."

"Huh?"

"British speak for lawyer," she clarified.

"Oh." After a second of thought his eyes lit up. "Wait! I remember this from Downton Abbey! The Crawleys weren't impressed by Matthew because he was a solicitor…but that was 1910."

"Hello!" Kate proclaimed in an 'isn't it obvious' way while gesturing behind her to the Fitzgerald residence. "Castle meet castle. They act like it's the early nineteen hundreds."

Castle nodded at this point, but continued his argument to the contrary. "But…technically your father is a professor now."

She shrugged. "I don't think they saw the difference."

"I'm sorry. Truly—it would have been really nice if they had gotten along." His words weren't full of sarcasm or snark; they were genuine. He knew Kate was already stressed enough and hated to see anything added to her already full plate. Though he did not know them very well and thus felt it was unfair to judge too harshly, Castle could not help but think the fault of the poor meeting lie with William's parents; they did not seem as open to their American in-laws as he imagined Kate's father was to them.

They sat in silence for several moments before Castle could not stop himself from saying, "So about Cairo…"

Kate eyed her friend suspiciously. "Why are you obsessing over this?"

"I'm not."

"You are."

He huffed out a breath. "Well, it's just Cairo, Kate. Cairo. That's in a different country!"

She blinked at him slowly. "London is in a different country."

He pursed his lips together tightly, thinking of a different defense. "It's in Africa!"

Kate rolled her eyes and skimmed her hands up and down her thighs; here came the melodramatic side of her writer friend. "Relax, Castle."

Knowing she thought he was overreacting, Castle grumbled. "I'm just…I'm concerned you're not going to be happy."

Her eyebrows arching upwards, Kate looked to her friend. Okay, that was not the direction she expected the conversation to go. Typically, his melodramatic moods were inwardly focused, so external concern was a refreshing change. "Well, that's…sweet Castle, but it's fine, really. It's going to be an interesting adventure."

He turned on the bench so that he faced her more directly. "I'm not saying you shouldn't have adventures, Kate, but the whole point of having the right adventure is doing it with the right person."

"Exactly." She nodded her head. "Which is why I'll be doing them with my husband. What's the matter with you? Why are you so worked up over this?" she asked at his clearly unsatisfied expression.

Ah, he thought; this is the moment. The perfect opportunity. Rubbing his clammy hands against his knees, he said, "Well, the truth is I…I…I—well, who am I going to have Sunday brunch with?" His voice trailed off on the end as he fell subject to self-loathing. Why couldn't he just say it? Why wouldn't the words come out? Because I'm afraid she'll hate me, he answered for himself. Right. There was that.

Kate smiled for the first time that hour. "You'll survive."

"I might not."

"Okay, Castle; I'll make you a deal. I'm not saying this will happen every week, but at least once a month we will have a Skype brunch—just the two of us."

Castle thought Skype brunches with Kate might be the saddest thing he'd ever heard of. Yes, seeing her face over Skype was better than not seeing her at all, but when compared to their typical weekly get-togethers? They would be torture! "But it won't be the same."

"No," she sighed, "it won't be, but that'll make you feel better right?"

He shrugged and waivered his head back and forth. "It'd make me feel better if you said you were going to miss me too."

That time, a full grin broke out on her face. "You're impossible." He merely made his expression more innocent, which made her laugh. She leaned over and nudged his elbow with hers. "I'm going to miss you, Castle. Of course I'm going to miss you. Better?"

"A little."

"I'm glad." Then, after thirty seconds of silence she added, "I guess I've been hiding long enough—I'd better go check on William and our parents."

Castle's ears perked at the mention of the fiancé. "Dare I ask what his opinion was of the in-laws first meeting?"

Kate opened her mouth to respond, but then shut it again. She studied the face of her friend, unsure if she should tell a full truth or a half one. Ultimately, she decided on the former. "He…he said maybe it's best they live in separate countries."

Castle's jaw nearly hit his lap. "Are you-"

"Don't Castle." She warned, shutting her eyes and shaking her head. "Not if it's not going to be productive. I can only handle one group of disagreeing people at a time."

Castle "hmph-ed" but could not stay silent completely. "Fine, but that doesn't seem like a very nice thing to say. Maybe you should consider that very carefully."

Kate's gaze landed on Castle, but only for a fraction of a second. Without saying a word, she pushed herself off the bench and walked quickly back to the house, not once looking back at the very displeased writer.