My Best Friend's Royal Wedding (ARC)

by Romy Sommer

I can’t sit out here much longer. I need to put my game face on and go inside or Mom will

  come out to check on me. I know she’s worried about me, but if she asks “are you sure you’re

  okay?” one more time, I’m going to scream.

  Of course I’m okay. I’ve got everything I ever wanted. Just a few credits away from

  graduating, a job with a regular paycheck and benefits, a safe and steady boyfriend. What more could a girl want?

  A lot, it turns out.

  None of those things feel the way I thought they’d feel. Maybe because I’m not the person I

  was when I dreamed them. Maybe because, if I’m honest with myself, I’m hopelessly in love with a prince.

  I’ve been having this recurring dream where I’m standing in the church in Arenberg, the one

  with the frescoed walls. I’m walking down the aisle and I feel so happy it’s like I’m floating on air.

  But when I reach the altar and turn around, I realize the church is empty and I’m all alone.

  Every time I wake, I feel like I’m missing something vital.

  That’s completely stupid, isn’t it - to feel as if a person can be so vital to you that when

  they’re gone you feel like… like I feel in that moment after waking?

  The way I feel right now.

  Suck it up, cupcake. You need to get in there before the ice cream melts.

  I open the car door, swing my gym bag off the passenger seat, and climb out. But even as I

  head up the steps to the front door, taking out my door key, I indulge in a moment’s fantasy.

  Imagine if Prince Charming were real. Imagine if he were waiting inside Mom’s double

  wide for me, drinking beer out of a can instead of champagne out of vintage crystal. Imagine if a girl like me could get over herself long enough to actually believe in love at first sight, could believe that the tremor she feels when she meets someone’s gaze and thinks ‘this is it’, that it really could be something more than hormones.

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  I slide my key into the latch and turn it. Then I push the door open and step across the

  threshold.

  And this is it. But it’s not a tremor. It’s a whammy that robs me of breath as our gazes meet.

  “You have a visitor,” my mother says.

  I swallow, pull myself together, and step into the living room, slowly shutting the door

  behind me. “So I see.” Not just a mirage, but scrambling up off of the polyester-fabric sofa. And there’s an honest-to-goodness can of beer on the table beside him. I pinch myself. Ouch.

  I clear my throat. “Shouldn’t the two of you be leaving for your date?”

  I glance pointedly at Gavin, who is leaning up against the kitchen counter with a big fat, all-too-knowing grin on his face.

  “I think that’s a hint for us to leave them alone,” Mom says with a laugh. She picks up her

  purse, and she and Gavin head to the door I just closed. As she passes, impossibly smooth and

  steady in her two inch heels, she bends to kiss my cheek. “Listen to what he has to say, okay?”

  I nod.

  Then they’re gone, and we’re alone. Though he’s still across the room, Adam’s presence

  fills the space, making my pulse flutter in my throat. It’s all I can do to stop myself from jumping him, but somehow I manage to hold myself back. Damn hormones!

  “Your mom is nice. So she and the doctor are still going strong?” He’s making small talk,

  and looks uncomfortable, which is hardly surprising. This trailer park has to be as far from his comfort zone as a palace was for me.

  “Congratulations. I read online that your uncle has officially made you crown prince.” I

  move to the kitchenette, unpacking the ice cream and champagne from among the wet swimming

  things in my gym bag and stowing them in the freezer. Then I face him, hands on my hips. “What are you doing here?”

  “I realized I owed you an apology.”

  “You could have called. Or texted. Or emailed.”

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  “No. This is the kind of apology that needs to be done in person.”

  He gets down on his knees on the outdated carpet. “I am so sorry that I didn’t recognize you

  last year, and that I treated you like you were nothing more than an object for my personal

  gratification. I like to think I’ve grown a bit since then. I’m also sorry that I didn’t talk to you or consider what you wanted, and that I tried to railroad you into staying with me in London just because it’s what I wanted.”

  As apologies go, that’s a pretty good one. “Apology accepted. You can get up now.”

  “There’s more.”

  I nod for him to continue. My heart is thudding, the rapid pulse making me feel light-

  headed. This is surreal.

  “I thought I had it all, and that I didn’t need anybody. But meeting you showed me that I’d

  closed my heart to what I needed. I’m trying to be a better man, and that’s all because of you. No matter what happens, you’ll be with me every minute of every day, part of everything I do.” He sucks in a breath, holding me trapped in his gaze. “But I’m begging you to please give me another chance?”

  Wow. Oh wow.

  “Um…I’m dating someone.” Raúl and I just got back together. Remember what I said about

  sparks starting fires? Well, things went up in flames for him and the woman he had a whole lot of chemistry with, so like me he’s decided that safe and steady is better than fireworks.

  The man still on his knees in the middle of the living room definitely falls into the fireworks category.

  “I’m not asking to date you, or to be your boyfriend. I’m asking to be your husband.” He

  reaches into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a ring. No fancy box, just a ring.

  Against my will, I move closer to take a look. It’s a large square-cut diamond set on a

  double band, with smaller diamond chips inset in the bands. At least, I assume they’re real

  diamonds. I wouldn’t know the difference between real and paste.

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  “What happened to the Adam who said he didn’t want to commit to anyone or anything?”

  “I discovered that making a commitment isn’t the worst thing that can happen. Watching the

  woman you love walk away from you is the worst thing that can happen.”

  Love. Whoa. I have to sit down because suddenly the room seems to be spinning around me.

  I perch on the edge of the nearest chair, and in an instant Adam is in front of me, taking my

  hands in one of his. “Are you okay?”

  “Is this one of those plot twists where it turns out you have to be married to inherit?”

  He laughs, though I can tell he’s trying hard not to. “No, just a man in his mid-thirties who

  has fallen in love for the first time, and experienced his first heartbreak. A little late, I know. But I’m a wreck without you.”

  Oh-kay.

  He’s back on his knees in front of me, still holding my hand. And still holding the ring out

  to me in his other hand. “I know I come with baggage, a small nation’s worth of baggage, but I hope you’ll look at me as a partner, not a prince.” He sucks in a nervous breath. “And if me being a prince is something you can’t get over then, much as I’d hate to do it, I’ll step down. I’ll look like an idiot, and Erdély will hate me, but I’d rather lose the whole country than lose you. Whether we live in Arenberg or London or Vegas, as long as we’re together, I know we’ll be okay.”

  “You can’t do that! They need you. But I’m just a-”

  “You’re not ‘just’ anything. This is the 21st century, and ordinary people from all walks of

  life have married into the royal families of Europ
e - speech therapists, translators, software engineers, even academics. Waitressing is just as necessary and worthwhile as any of those

  professions.” He grins, a cheeky grin that still has a touch of cockiness to it, but oh how I love it.

  “In the interests of full disclosure, if you say ‘yes’ to being a princess, then I should probably tell you that you’ll need to manage your expectations. It isn’t anything like Disney would have you believe. I plan to keep my flat in London for a good few years, so you won’t be living in a castle.

  You’ll be expected to learn the Erdélian dialect and attend charity events. Also, there are none of

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  the trappings other royal families have. Erdély doesn’t own any horse-drawn carriages, there’s no royal guard in fancy uniforms, and our collection of crown jewels is nowhere near as impressive as Westerwald’s.”

  He sits back, waiting for my answer.

  Slowly, very slowly, I let out the breath I’ve been holding. It’s really a no-brainer, isn’t it?

  I’ve been miserable without him. Just having him here has already made me happier than

  I’ve felt any time this past month. I’d rather be completely out of my depth at dinner parties and polo matches than living here without him, and I was a fool to think I could.

  I gaze deep into his eyes. “I’m a wreck without you, too. I love you, Adam Hatton.”

  He laughs, but it has a nervous edge to it. “Is that a yes?” Who could have guessed that I’d

  be able to make that arrogant man I first met here in Vegas a year ago this anxious?

  “Yes, I’ll marry you. And yes, I’ll be your princess.”

  He slides the ring onto my left hand, then pulls me down off the sofa and into his arms, but

  my weight topples him over and we collapse onto the floor in a breathless, laughing mess. He tilts my face up to his, and kisses me, and there are those blinding fireworks.

  Then he wraps me in his arms, and I lean my cheek against his shoulder, my hand spread out

  on those glorious pecs. I’m not a saint - I can do some objectifying too. I close my eyes and breathe him in.

  “You smell like chlorine.” He pulls away, wrinkling his nose.

  “I went to the pool to swim laps after work. After sitting at a desk for eight hours straight, I needed the exercise. I really hate having a desk job.”

  “Did I mention my apartment building in London has its own indoor swimming pool?”

  “Okay, I’m sold!”

  He leans over me, brushing my hair back from my face with gentle fingers. “I like the purple

  streaks.”

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  “Don’t get too attached to them, because it might be a different color next month. And in the

  interests of full disclosure, you should probably know that the family you’ll be marrying into is as rainbow-colored as my hair.”

  “I know. There’s this wonderful invention called Google that let me stalk you online every

  time I wanted to see your face this past month.”

  I guess that would be creepy, if I hadn’t done the same thing. I even went so far as to set a

  Google alert for his name. That’s not stalkerish, is it?

  He brushes his lips over mine, and I shiver at the touch, my body growing needy and

  desperate for him.

  “There’s just one more thing,” he whispers against my cheek. “We don’t need to do the big,

  white wedding if you don’t want it. I don’t care how or where we marry, as long as we get to say ‘I do’. If you want a small and intimate Vegas wedding like Max and Phoenix’s, then that’s what

  we’ll do.”

  My eyes go big and round. “How the hell did you…?”

  He places a finger over my lips. “I told you I could keep a secret. But I don’t want any

  secrets with you.” His expression falters. “I’m hoping you can handle my sordid past.”

  It’s a question, and I kiss him first before answering. “I don’t care about the past. Just our future.”

  We kiss, rolling around on the floor, hands exploring, tongues tangling, until the phone in

  the back pocket of my jeans vibrates with a message. I pull it out.

  The text is from Gavin. She said yes.

  And since this is after all the kind of fairy tale in which even trailer park Cinderellas can

  become princesses, I text back. Me too.

  #

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  We marry in the frescoed church of St József’s in Arenberg at Christmas time. Thankfully,

  it’s nothing like in my dream. I’m not alone. Isaiah walks me down the aisle, and my entire family is there, including my new sisters. After today, I’ll have four of them.

  This wedding is nothing like the Vegas wedding I once dreamed of, and nothing like my

  best friend’s big fairy tale wedding, but it’s the perfect wedding for me: just the right amount of fanfare and magic for the girl from the trailer park who’s about to become a princess. And in this sparkly, eighteenth century tiara, I feel every bit like a princess.

  The Arenberg school choir sings, and the winter sunshine falls through the high, lead-glass

  windows. It’s a simple, private wedding rather than a public spectacle. No horse-drawn carriages, no soldiers, no cameras inside the church, and I have just one bridesmaid. She walks down the aisle ahead of me, with eyes only for her husband who waits beside Adam in front of the altar.

  My gaze meets his, and once again I’m lost in their grey-green depths. I sigh with happiness,

  and Isaiah squeezes my arm.

  Love isn’t a lie. It’s real, and it’s a whole lot more than a hormone-induced craving. It’s

  finding that one person who brings out the best in you. The person you want to have holding your hand when you take the leap outside your comfort zone. The person you love in the way you want to be loved.

  The way I love Adam. The way he loves me.

  And yeah, there’s chemistry too. Right now I’m looking at the groom and thinking ‘I’d like

  to do him.’

  THE END

  Document Outline

  My Best Friend’s Royal Wedding By Romy Sommer