Chapter 1 – Bright Eyes

Bennington Hotel. London. 5 AM.

What. The. Hell.

How did I get here?

That's a rhetorical question. I know exactly how I got here. I met my parents at the airport last week; they stayed at a hotel while I enjoyed my last week of freedom in my own flat just north of Hyde Park. Two days ago, my new security detail picked me up and drove me to this ridiculous place (with a TV in the bathroom— why?). In six hours I'll step out of a car and into Westminster Abbey, and my life will never be the same. Barring some huge scandal and/or unanticipated natural disaster, I will be on every front page in the world tomorrow, and what is supposed to be the happiest day of my life will be watched on TV by upwards of two billion people.

The path that led me here was not a smooth one. I didn't have what you might call a traditional upbringing. We didn't have a white picket fence or a golden retriever. I have never lived in one place for more than four years. My dad is a Navy officer. My mom is a nurse. I was born in San Diego, and we lived there until I was three. Then to New Hampshire, where we lived just long enough for me to attend kindergarten. After that was Japan. We lived in Okinawa for almost four years, before Daddy was transferred to Hawaii, which we left when I was thirteen. I split my high school years between New Orleans and Monterey. My parents moved to Maryland when my father retired from active service to take a desk job. That was right when I started at Tufts, so we were at least on the same coast for my college years, except for my time studying abroad in Beijing.

I'm an only child, and they were never home much. I learned to amuse myself at a young age, which has led to certain issues professionally and personally. It's not that I can't interact with people, I just don't want to. I'm much happier working on my own, and I've learned to love quiet nights in with my dog, my DVD player, and a bottle of cheap wine.

After college I joined the Peace Corps, and spent thirteen months in a country most people only think about when Genghis Khan documentaries come on the History Channel late at night. Mongolia is a beautiful place, if you like mountains, grasslands, and minimal infrastructure. About half the population of the country is nomadic, living very much as their ancestors have for thousands of years— although I found it ironically entertaining to see an extended family traveling across the steppes with a satellite dish strapped to their ox- cart.

Then, at twenty- two going on twenty- three, with ten different hometowns under my belt, I decided that it was time to find a job that would allow me to live in one place for more than a few years.

So I became a diplomat. The State Department decided that with my background as a military child, with my International Relations degree, fluent in Russian and Mandarin Chinese, with a keen interest in human rights and developing democracy out of dictatorship, I would be a good match for… London.

I arrived in the U.K. on my twenty- third birthday, September 17.

My first year at the American Embassy in London was pretty standard. My job requires enough paperwork to make Jesus weep, but all in all, it's pretty uneventful.

During my second year, however, I began a journey that was anything but boring.


Ta-da! Welcome to The Special Relationship. Make sure you're wearing your seatbelt and keep all arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times, because this is going to be a hell of a ride. Reviews always welcome!