The Anti-Cinderella Takes London

by Tawdra Kandle

  Nicky chuckled. “No, I don’t think that makes sense. Last year, when we were trying to be discreet, it was a good idea, but now, I’d rather be with you and your family. It seems silly to put anyone to the trouble of getting the house ready for one person to stay for a week.”

  “That makes sense.” I sighed, contentment filling me. “I have to admit that as much as I’m dying to see my family—especially Honey, after she was so sick—I was kind of dreading being separated from you, even for a week. Now that I know I don’t have to worry about that, I can’t wait to go.” Closing my eyes, I buried my face in the crook of his neck. “I feel very spoiled.”

  Gathering me even closer, Nicky brushed his lips over my naked shoulder. “That’s my life’s goal, Ky . . . to spoil you whenever I can, as much as I can. Making you happy is my only priority.”

  Unexpected tears stung my eyes, but this time, they came from a deep sense of being loved. What else could I possibly need, as long as I had Nicky?

  3

  November in Florida is a tricky time of year, weather-wise. It can be warm enough that the beaches are filled with locals and tourists, or it can be cool enough that all the stores in the areas suddenly run out of their supply of coats, gloves and firewood.

  After being in England for six months, though, the soft air and bright sunshine felt like heaven to me, even if the air was slightly chilled.

  “It’s so cold this year!” My mother rubbed her arms and scowled at me, as if this was my fault. “Close that window, please, Bria. I’m freezing.”

  “It’s so hot in here from the oven, though,” my sister protested. “I’m about to burst into flames.”

  “Actually, Mom, it’s pretty nice out today.” I ventured an opinion. “Compared to what it’s been in London—”

  “But this is Florida, not London,” Mom snapped. “And all I wanted was a little bit of warmth so we can relax on the beach tomorrow without freezing our asses off. Lisel, stop eating those potatoes, or there won’t be enough for leftovers tonight.”

  Lisel met my eyes over our mother’s head. My sister shot me a mock glare just before she scooped another huge spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, and I bit back a giggle.

  Usually, cooking holiday meals was something all the women in our family enjoyed. Honey, my mother, my sisters and I took the rare opportunity to hang out all together in the kitchen, chatting and laughing and having fun. We worked as a team to make delicious food that the whole family gobbled up. It was never stressful—or at least, it hadn’t been until this year.

  My grandmother had managed to orchestrate the cooking of the turkey, even if she was supposed to be resting. Mom had the side dishes well in hand, too. As a matter of fact, it had all felt like old times up until we returned to the kitchen after dinner to pack the leftovers and clean up.

  At that point, suddenly, my mother had become a little snappish, turning into a general and ordering around Bria, Lisel and me as though we were her troops.

  “I don’t know what crawled up her ass, but I’ve never seen Mom in such a rotten mood on Thanksgiving.” Bria spoke low to me, her mouth near my ear, as we put away the leftover turkey. “She keeps looking at the clock and then at the door, like she’s waiting for something to happen.”

  “Got me.” I shrugged and pressed a lid onto the glass storage bowl. “You don’t think she’s mad that Nicky’s here, do you? Did she want this year to be just us, with no one from outside the family?”

  “No way.” Bria shook her head. “She was so excited when you called to say he was coming, too.”

  “Are you guys talking about Mom?” Lisel slid up next to me, casting our mother a speculative glance. “It’s not just me, right? She’s all—I don’t know, snippy and shit.”

  “Maybe she’s worried about Honey.” Bria reached for the basket of cornbread and started piling it into a clean container. “Mom was really shaken up when Honey was in the hospital. You know how close they are—even though Honey is Dad’s mom. I think maybe seeing that she couldn’t quite handle making Thanksgiving dinner this year upset Mom.”

  “What are you three whispering about over there?” My mother crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you finished with the leftovers yet? I’ve got the dishwasher loaded, but I need someone to dry the dishes that have to be hand washed.”

  “I’ll do it.” As the oldest, I felt it was my responsibility to take on the job and brave my mother’s bad mood.

  “No, that’s okay.” Bria jumped into the fray. “I got it. Ky, why don’t you go see what Nicky’s doing? Dad and Handsome might be trying to indoctrinate him into American football. Go save the boy before he’s sucked into their obsession. Lisel and I will handle everything here.”

  I hesitated. “Are you sure?”

  “Go before we change our minds.” Lisel gave me a small shove.

  “The girls are right,” my mother added. “Nicky’s your guest.”

  My forehead knit together. “Since when is Nicky a guest?”

  “Oh, good Lord, Kyra, when you’re talking about a prince from England, he’s always a guest.” Bria rolled her eyes. “Go. Or else I will, and you can stay here and do dishes.”

  “All right, all right. I’m going.” I pushed open the swinging kitchen door and wandered through the dining room into the living room, where all the men were gathered. My dad and Handsome were on the sofa, their eyes glued to the huge screen on the wall. I paused long enough to see who was winning—it was Dallas by ten—before I turned in a circle, taking in my great-uncle and great-aunt, my cousins and Honey, who was reading something on her telephone.

  Someone was missing.

  “Where’s Nicky?” With my hands on my hips, I raised my eyebrows and glared at my father. “What did you do to him, Daddy?”

  “Why are you looking at me?” My dad wore an expression of offended innocence. “He said it was too nice an afternoon to be inside and went out onto the deck. He told us to send you his way when you were finished in the kitchen. I think he said something about a walk on the beach.”

  “Oh.” I craned my neck to look out, where my boyfriend was indeed leaning on the railing of the deck that overlooked the sand. “I guess I’ll join him, then.”

  Handsome beamed at me and patted my hand. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll give you the play-by-play of the football game when you get back.”

  “Thanks.” I bent down to kiss his whiskery cheek. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Take a sweater, Kyra.” Honey pointed to my soft gray hoodie, draped over the back of a nearby chair. “It’s chilly out, especially by the water.”

  “And if some photographer spots you, the hood will come in handy,” added my dad.

  With a sigh, I scooped up the sweatshirt and opened the French doors that led to the deck.

  Nicky turned toward me, and the smile on his face warmed me more than any jacket might. “Hello, there.” He stretched out a hand. “I was hoping a pretty girl like you might come along.”

  “Must be your lucky day.” Taking his hand, I allowed him to tug me toward his body and turned up my face for his kiss. “I heard something about a beach walk?”

  “If you think that sounds good.” He linked our fingers. “I ate so much at the dinner table that I feel like if I don’t move around, I might just fall asleep on the sofa.”

  “How could you think about sleeping when football’s on television?” I pretended horror as we maneuvered the wooden steps that led to the beach. “I mean, the Cowboys are playing, Nicky. One doesn’t sleep through that.”

  “Of course not.” He managed to keep a straight face. “I meant after the game was over. Naturally.”

  “That’s better.” I bumped my shoulder against his and stood on my toes to kiss his cheek.

  “I hope you don’t mind the idea of a walk.” Nicky tightened his hand on mine. “It’s not too cold, is it?”

  “Nah. The sun’s warm, even though it’s going to set pretty soon.” I kicked at a
bit of dried seaweed in my path. “And it’s still not as raw as home’s been lately.”

  “Home.” Nicky’s voice took on a timber of contentment. “Do you know how glad it makes me to hear you call London home?”

  “I told you, you’re my home.” I watched the tide rush toward us and then pull back away. “And it’s true. London feels right for me, even though I haven’t been able to explore too much yet. I know it’s been an adjustment, but . . . I like it. I like living there with you.”

  “Hmmm. That’s very convenient, because I love having you with me. Coming home to you is my favorite part of the day—with waking up next to you a close second.” He slowed his steps, shading his eyes as he stared a little bit ahead of us, up on the beach. “Look at that.”

  I squinted in the direction of Nicky’s pointed finger. “Is that . . . oh. It’s a sand castle. Who was here to play in the sand?” This part of the beach, from the edge of Honey and Handsome’s property all the way along the private beach that belonged to Nicky’s mother’s family, was off-limits to the public. No press, no trespassers . . . and no intruding sand castle builders.

  “Could’ve been anyone, I guess.” He sounded far too unconcerned, and I glanced up at him sharply. “But check out those turrets and the moat. It reminds me a little bit of the one I built all those years ago—the award-winning one—the one whose memory still so aggravates you.”

  “It doesn’t exactly aggravate me.” I sniffed. “I just think that you had an unfair advantage, being a prince and all. But—” I held up one finger. “I’ve gotten over it. I no longer hold anything against you. I am choosing to be the bigger person.”

  “How mature of you.” Nicky coughed, and I suspected he was trying not to laugh. “Let’s go take a look anyway.”

  I frowned but allowed Nicky to lead me toward the castle. When we stopped to stand alongside it, I noticed something small and blue fluttering in the breeze.

  “Is that . . .” Leaning down, I plucked the faded blue ribbon from where it had been tucked into one sand tower. “Oh, my God. Nicky—is this—this is your first-prize ribbon for that castle. What’s it doing here?”

  “That’s a mystery.” He sounded remarkably unconcerned. “Maybe it’s fate. Maybe . . .” He closed my fingers around the old ribbon, holding my hand in both of his. “Maybe this is my way of finally making up the old misunderstanding to you. We should have won this prize together.”

  I began to laugh. “Honestly, Nicky, you know I’m not serious—” And then I forgot about what I was going to say, what I was thinking—about how to take my next breath, because Nicky dropped to one knee in front of me in the sand.

  “I want everything we do to be together, Kyra. Nothing in my life has any meaning if you’re not part of it. I want you to live with me always. I want to love you forever. Will you, Kyra Margaret Duncan, marry me?”

  At that moment, everything changed. The earth shifted on its axis. The sun was suddenly brighter, the air crisper and the sea louder.

  Nicky’s hair blew in the wind, but his eyes never left mine. They were steady, steadfast and true. They were everything I wanted. They were all I could see.

  “Of course, I will.” The words came out in a whisper. “Of course, I’ll marry you, Nicky.” Tears filled my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. “I could never love anyone else.”

  The smile that spread over Nicky’s face was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen. He tugged hard on the hand that held mine, yanking me down until I was kneeling, too. Wrapping both arms around me, he held me close.

  “Thank you,” he breathed against my ear. “You’ve made me so very happy just now.”

  Being me, I couldn’t let the tender moment go unchallenged. “Just now?” My voice was muffled against his neck. “Haven’t I made you happy before now?”

  “Almost every single day since the first time I met you,” Nicky answered swiftly. “And before you ask, the almost is because when we were young, there were plenty of days when you annoyed the living shit out of me. And then after we reconnected, there were those six months when we were apart, and I can’t say that I was happy during that time.”

  I considered. “I guess that’s reasonable.”

  “But every day other than those, you have made me supremely happy. Today is the penultimate because it means we’re going to make each other happy every day for the rest of our lives.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure,” I sighed. “Pretty sure we might both end up—how did you put it? Annoying the living shit out of each other now and then, no matter how hard we try.”

  “Of course, we will.” Nicky chuckled, his chest moving up and down. “But that’s what makes life fun, isn’t it? You keep me guessing, Ky, all the time. You make me laugh, you make me think in a completely different way than I ever have before . . . you’ve opened a new world to me, and yet you’ve come into my world, even though it’s been such a change for you. Don’t ever think that I don’t realize or appreciate that. I do. And I want to make it up to you every day for as long as we both shall live.”

  I swallowed over the lump that had risen in my throat. “I think I can work with that.”

  “Excellent.” He turned his head, cupping my jaw and guiding my lips to his. “And now, as much as I’d love to scoop you up into my arms and carry you off to a private room where we could celebrate our engagement properly, your entire family is waiting back at your grandparents’ house—and they’re counting on a less, ah, intimate celebration.” Nicky smirked a little. “I heard something about pie and champagne.”

  “Wait a minute—they all knew?” My eyes widened. “How in the hell did they keep it a secret?”

  “With great difficulty, according to your father.” Nicky stood and helped me to my feet, too. “He said your mother was beside herself. They’ve known—your parents—for some time now. I talked to them on FaceTime one evening when you stayed late at the office, and I asked for their blessing. I think it’s been hard on your mother not to say anything to you.”

  “That probably explains why she was so irritable after dinner,” I mused.

  “Maybe—oh.” He reached into his jacket and drew out a small black box. “I nearly forgot this.” He balanced it on the center of his upturned palm. “After all, if we go back to the house and you’re not wearing a ring, they’ll think you turned me down.”

  “Oh.” I wasn’t a jewelry girl; on any given day, I stuck to small silver hoops in my ears and the cross pendant that Honey and Handsome had given me when I was confirmed. But I found myself unexpectedly eager to see what Nicky had chosen for my engagement ring. This was the ring I’d wear for the rest of my days.

  Slowly, he opened the lid, revealing a platinum band set with a gleaming round emerald surrounded by diamonds. It wasn’t ostentatious or huge—it was quintessentially and undeniably me. With the stone set low into the wide band, there wasn’t a worry about it catching on my gardening gloves or of it becoming caked with soil after I’d spent an afternoon digging in the dirt.

  I gasped in delight. “It’s so beautiful, Nicky.”

  Nicky lifted the ring from the box and slid it onto the third finger of my left hand, smiling a bit when it fit perfectly. I tilted my hand this way and that, admiring how beautiful the ring made my hand look.

  “I did all right, then?” He raised my knuckles to kiss them. “It just seemed as though this was made to be on your finger. I could see it perfectly.” Giving my fingers a squeeze, he added, “I chose it myself. I didn’t have any help at all—not even from Shelby or your sisters.”

  “You did better than all right,” I assured him. “I couldn’t have picked out a better engagement ring myself. I love it.” Rising on my toes, I kissed his cheek. “And I love you. You planned a perfect way to propose and the most gorgeous ring. This is the kind of stuff girls dream about.”

  “The beach where we met and had our first kiss so long ago seemed like the only place to have our happily-ever-after,” Nicky observed. “A
lthough this doesn’t feel like an ending.”

  “It definitely isn’t an ending. Our happily-ever-after is only the start of the story.” I leaned into him, joy surging through me. “And it’s going to be the most beautiful love story anyone has ever heard.”

  4

  “Pussy cat, pussy cat, where have you been? I’ve been to London to look at the Queen . . .”

  I murmured the nursery rhyme absently under my breath. All of the lines of the old verse had been running around my head for the past weeks, and now that I was in the car with Nicky, on our way to Buckingham Palace, I couldn’t stop thinking of the words.

  “Ky, you’ve got to stop that.” Nicky was half-laughing, half-scolding as he reached to hold my clammy hand. “You’re not going to—what’s the next line? Something about a mouse?”

  “I frightened a little mouse under her chair,” I corrected. “And I know. But I’m nervous. It’s not every day a girl meets her fiancé’s grandmother. And it’s especially nerve-wracking if his grandmother happens to be the Queen of England.” With a deep breath, I added, “More specifically, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and of her other realms and territories. Head of the Commonwealth and Defender of the Faith.” I’d been well-trained over the past two weeks during my crash course in all things related to meeting the Queen.

  Thanks to Lady Marjorie Lewis, former lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty and close friend of the Duchess of Westhampton, Nicky’s mother, I now knew how to curtsy in exactly the right way when I met the Queen. I knew how to address her, too, and the subjects I was definitely not supposed to bring up.

  “Ky, maybe you should focus more on the fact that you’re meeting my grandmother than on the fact that she happens to be the Queen. It might help your nerves.” Nicky cast me a sideways glance as he slowed to take a corner. In the backseat of the car, his security officer adjusted his safety belt.