The Royal Wedding: A Crown Jewels Romantic Comedy, Book 2

by Melanie Summers

  I take the stairs two at a time, then make a sharp right into the bathroom. Xavier and Ollie managed to speak and it turns out Arthur went to the hospital to find me, but is now on his way back here. According to Xavier, I have t-minus seven to get myself looking—and smelling—gorgeous. I hear the creaking of the stairs and my mum appears at the entrance to the bathroom. She smiles at me. “So, do you finally believe it?”

  “Believe what?” I squeeze too much toothpaste onto my brush, then go to work.

  “That you’re meant to be together.”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I say, the words muffled.

  “Believe it, Twinkle. You are enough. Just the way you are. Arthur sees it. And you need to know it deep down inside.”

  I spit out the toothpaste. “That wasn’t the only reason we broke up, you know.”

  “Yes, it was.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have started to believe that malarkey about Brooke being better. She may be better at being a lady and, well, school obviously, but she’s not better at loving Arthur.”

  I smile. “Thanks, Mum. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “You’re welcome, Twinkle.” She looks me up and down. “You should really hurry and get ready. Arthur’ll be here any minute.”

  She turns to leave, then calls over her shoulder, “Dad and I are going out for a couple of hours. I need to pick up some of that cheese at that shop I like.”

  By the time there’s a knock at the door I’m in my little black dress, fresh knickers, and lipstick, with my hair up in a loose bun. Arthur smiles down at me. “I remember that dress.”

  “Do you?”

  “You wore it to dinner the first day we met. It drained all the blood from my brain the entire evening.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I grin up at him, desperately wanting to pull him into the house by his tie, but hold back.

  “I’m here to confess, then beg you to come back to me.”

  “Well, that all depends on what you’re confessing to…”

  He screws up his face, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I’m the brains behind @WeLoveTessa.”

  “You?! But, you’re always saying to just ignore all of that.”

  “Which is why I didn’t want to admit to it. It makes me a terrible hypocrite, not to mention that you said my comebacks were that of a moronic teenage boy.”

  “I may have been a little harsh when I said that.”

  “I may have been a total fool to do any of it in the first place.”

  “Maybe.” I nod.

  “I also figured out who @IHateTessa was. Do you want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s just say you won’t be seeing Damien around the palace anymore.”

  My mouth drops. “Did you…have him offed?”

  “No, this isn’t Game of Thrones. We fired him.”

  “Oh, yeah, that makes more sense,” I say. “While we’re confessing, you should know that I may have just zipped over to the palace and told your father off.”

  His mouth spreads into a wide grin. “Did you now?”

  “I did. I even said fuck and told him I saved his sorry arse in the referendum.” I laugh a little, then remember Brooke. “What about Brooke? Have you figured out that she likes you in a ‘more than a friend’ way?”

  “I did when I found out who’d been feeding Damien the photos of us together.”

  Gasping, I say, “It was her all along?”

  He shakes his head. “Her mother. Brooke tried to convince me she didn’t know, but when I pressed her on the subject she fell apart, apologized profusely, then promptly tried to stick her tongue down my throat in a last-ditch effort to make me hers.”

  “I knew it!” I snap my fingers, feeling temporary satisfaction at being right which is swiftly followed by anger at the thought of her kissing Arthur. The look on my face must show what I’m thinking.

  “Don’t worry. I set her straight.” He points to his mouth. “I told her these lips belong to Tessa Sharpe.”

  “Was she horribly disappointed?”

  “She’ll be in mourning for years to come.”

  My entire body smiles at the thought.

  Arthur grins at me. “So, do you believe me now that nothing happened?”

  “I do, and I’m sorry that I didn’t before.” I nod.

  “You’re forgiven. I was acting suspicious. Very foolish of me, I know, given what was at stake.”

  “Yes, it was, which brings me to the next item on the agenda. I think we need to renegotiate the terms of our relationship.”

  “Agreed. But can I come in and kiss you first?”

  I put on my most posh voice. “If you must.”

  “I really fucking must.” He steps inside, shutting the door behind him with one foot, then takes me in his arms and lowers his mouth over mine. I close my eyes and disappear into the most passionate, amazingly wonderful, toe-curling, leg-rising-up-of-its-own-accord kiss that I’ve ever had.

  When it’s over, he pulls back. “Should we go somewhere where we can be alone—for negotiation purposes? These things can take days.”

  “My parents have gone out, so we’ll have the place to ourselves for two entire hours,” I say, licking my lips. “If we’re unable to resolve our differences by then, we’ll have to reconvene in another location.”

  “You’re so deliciously naughty.”

  “That’s why you like me.”

  “Wrong.” He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, leaving me wanting more. “That’s why I love you.”

  “I say we try something new. Strip negotiation.”

  He raises one eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. What are the rules?”

  “For every one of my terms you agree to I take off an item of clothing, and same for your terms.”

  “Deal.”

  We shake hands, then he says, “Now, lose the dress.”

  “What?”

  “I just agreed to your first term. Dress. Off.”

  “This is Vanessa Platt from the ABNC news desk. Breaking news from the palace as an official statement has been issued. Prince Arthur and Tessa Sharpe have called off their wedding, which was to have taken place three weeks from now. Giles Bigley is on location in front of the palace with more. Giles?”

  “Yes, Vanessa, shock reverberates through Avonia today as Prince Arthur and Tessa Sharpe call off their wedding.”

  “The statement was very vague, not providing any indication as to the reasons behind it. Are they ending their relationship or just postponing the nuptials?”

  “Excellent question. The prince has remained silent on the matter and has yet to post on Instagram or Twitter in the past several days, but because the announcement comes on the heels of the Princess Dowager’s open-heart surgery, it could very well be that they have elected to postpone until she is able to attend the ceremony.”

  Vanessa’s face falls a little. “Yes, I suppose that could be possible.”

  “I’d say it’s highly likely, Vanessa. Both Tessa and Prince Arthur were seen coming and going from Valcourt Memorial last night and earlier today. It’s doubtful that she would be attending the Princess Dowager’s side were she and Prince Arthur calling it quits.”

  “Oh, bugger.” Arthur sits up in bed suddenly.

  We’ve been negotiating for the past three hours now with one brief break for me to text my mum and suggest that they go visit Lars and Nina for a few hours. I got a quick reply from mum which included a winkie face emoticon and a promise that they’ll be gone until after ten tonight. A little awkward if I’m to be honest, but we’re all adults here. Mostly.

  “What is it?” I ask, my brain completely unable to think up what could possibly be wrong.

  “The announcement. I forgot to call Vincent to cancel.”

  I sit up. “Oh, bugger.”

  We both take to our mobile phones and stare in horror at the dozens of notifications that we’re broken up. Arthur looks at me wi
th wild eyes, and then bursts out laughing. “Oh, sod it.”

  He grabs my mobile out of my hand and tosses it and his onto the pile of lace scraps that used to be a designer wedding gown. Then he takes me in my arms and snogs me senseless, only stopping for a second to ask, “What is that pile of shredded fabric?”

  “Oh, that? My wedding dress,” I say simply.

  He tilts his head, and nods as though that makes perfect sense. “Mr. Whiskers?”

  “Mmmhmm.”

  “He knew we needed a fresh start.”

  “Genius, that cat,” I say, smiling.

  “This time around, we do the whole thing our way. No tiny, nasty wedding planners, no diets, no twenty-page guest lists. Just you and me and whatever kind of wedding you want.”

  Twenty-Eight

  My Not-So-Big, Relatively Lean Avonian Wedding

  Arthur

  June 15th - Didsby Village

  I stand at the front of the church, with Chaz, Kyle, and Timothy at my side. I honestly have no idea why men pretend they don’t love weddings. I’m exhilarated, terrified, and madly, wildly in love at the same time as I wait for the heavy wooden doors to open and pour late-day sunlight into the ancient stone building. I also have no idea why anyone bothers with wedding planners. It took Tessa and me all of one evening to plan out the perfect wedding—in the village church, with our close friends and relatives.

  Grandmum saved our foolish arses by putting out an official statement that, while we are very much in love, we decided to postpone the wedding until she was well. I smile over at her where she sits in the front pew and gratitude sweeps through me that she can be here for this moment in my life. I say a silent prayer that she’ll be here to welcome our children to the world and to love them up when they’re getting in trouble from their parents, like she did for Arabella and me. I don’t know who I would be if she hadn’t been here, but I don’t think I’d be half the man who awaits his bride.

  Oh, you’re probably wondering how I’ve become so sentimental. ‘Arthur, this doesn’t sound like you. You’re sarcastic and witty and debonair.’ Relax, I’ll get straight back to that as soon as the ceremony is over.

  I glance to my right, where my father is waiting to bestow the title of Duchess of Wellingborne, Princess of Avonia on Tessa. Oddly enough, things have gotten much better between us since I socked him in the jaw. Turns out he was waiting for me to finally stand up to him so he’d know I can handle being king someday. He’s still not what you’d call a cuddly or involved dad, but he’s been trying. He smiles at me and nods. I do the same.

  Suddenly, the doors swing open and I see Tessa’s nieces and nephews, who are serving as our flower girls and ring bearers, all but little Eugenia who is sleeping soundly on her dad’s shoulder. Poppy is first, sprinkling flowers on the aisle. Well, really, she’s sort of chucking fistfuls of them on the carpet. Her brother, Knox, who has a slightly quicker pace, bumps into her back and she turns around and smacks him on the arm. “Stop it!”

  “Hurry up!” he hisses.

  The church roars with laughter, reminding them that they are, indeed, being watched.

  The children make their way up the rest of the aisle without incident and I give them each a wink and a fist bump as they turn to their pew.

  Then I look up and see Arabella coming down the aisle, carrying a simple bouquet of wild flowers. She’s already crying, poor thing, but she’s smiling, too. Then Nikki is next, and I do a double-take. Her hair is light brown today. She looks…normal. Very presentable.

  They make their way down the aisle, Arabella stopping to hug me. “I’m so happy!”

  I hug her back. “Me, too.”

  She pulls back and narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t fuck this up, Arthur. I swear to God, I’ll kill you.”

  “You and Gran both.”

  Nikki comes up behind her and does a little curtsy in front of my father and me. I lean toward her and point to her hair. “Natural colour?”

  She nods and shrugs.

  “You look rather fetching.”

  Her cheeks turn pink. “Charmer.”

  The trumpets sound the first notes of Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” and I snap to attention. There she is, flanked on either side by her parents. At first, she’s only a silhouette against the pink and orange sky, but then she takes a few steps forward and I see her for the first time. My princess.

  Her dress belonged to her grandmother. It’s a simple long-sleeved lace gown that trails behind her, causing her to look like she’s walking on air. Behind the veil she smiles, her eyes set only on me as she makes her way down the aisle, arms hooked through those of her parents. Her eyes glisten with emotion and mine do the same. Each step she takes brings me more to life, makes me that much fuller. A lump forms in my throat and I’m not sure I’ll be able to speak at all when it’s time.

  When they reach us, I vibrate with the purest joy. She turns to her mother, who lifts her veil and sobs loudly, then kisses her on the cheek. “Imagine my little girl becoming a princess.”

  Evi turns to me and says, “Be good to each other. None of the rest matters.”

  I nod and we kiss each other on both cheeks. “Thanks, Mum.”

  As soon as I say it, I know it was a mistake because she bursts into tears, patting my cheek in a most undignified way. Oh, well, sod it all. We’re family now. A little show of emotion never hurt anyone, I suppose.

  Rueben shakes my hand, gripping my elbow firmly with his other hand. His eyes say what he’s too polite to—and it’s pretty much the same message as Arabella’s.

  Why is it that everyone assumes I’ll fuck this up? It could just as easily be Tessa. I nod and murmur to him, “Don’t worry, sir. I’ll take good care of her.”

  Reuben’s eyes well up a bit and he sniffles, then takes his wife’s arm and leads her to the spots waiting for them in the front pew.

  And now it’s just the two of us grinning at each other like fools. “You’re so beautiful, I can hardly breathe.”

  Tessa tears up, then says, “You wore your naval uniform. Good choice.”

  “I knew it would get you going,” I whisper. “Should we do this?”

  “Yes, let’s get it over with,” she says.

  “No, I intend to savour every second of the best day of my life.”

  We turn to the minister, who stands next to my father. And the next ten minutes are a blur because I can’t concentrate on anything other than how in love I am with the woman standing next to me.

  She turns to me and I snap out of it, remembering it’s time for the vows. Little Knox, who has the real rings, stands between us, holding up the pillow and grinning smugly back at his brothers. Oh, they learn that early, don’t they?

  I take Tessa’s ring off the pillow, then lift her left hand with mine. “I, Arthur Winston Phillip George Charles Edward, take thee, Tessa Bridget, to be my wife. I promise to love, comfort, support, and keep you, forsaking all others, for all the days of my life.”

  I gently slide the ring onto her finger and then our eyes meet. “Your turn,” I whisper.

  “I, Tessa Bridget, take thee, Arthur Winston Phillip George Charles Edward, to be my husband. I promise to love, comfort, support, and keep you, forsaking all others, for all the days of my life.”

  I watch as she slides the most symbolic and meaningful piece of jewelry I’ll ever wear onto my finger.

  Then we turn to the minister who says a whole bunch of things about love and marriage and commitment that I miss because I’m thinking about how damn relieved I am to have gotten this far.

  My father steps down and stands in front of Tessa while Vincent hurries over to place a kneeling stool for her. She takes my hand and I help steady her while she kneels in front of my father. His smile is genuine as he unsheathes his sword (not that kind of sword—good God, you have sick mind). He taps her left shoulder with it and says, “I, Winston Phillip George Edwin Charles, rightful Monarch of the Kingdom of Avonia, Duke of Canterboroguh, Coun
t of Middlesbury, by right of arms dub thee Princess Tessa, Duchess of Wellingborne.”

  Lifting the sword over her head, he taps her right shoulder. “Rise up, madam, and join the ranks of your peers.”

  Tessa stands and curtseys deeply to my father, looking very much like she was born into all this silliness. When she rises, my father takes her hand and smiles, then quietly says, “Well done, Tessa. I know we got off to a rocky start, but I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for my family and for my son. You’ve turned him into the man I should have, and you’re just the person to make sure he’ll be the leader this nation needs someday.”

  Tessa tears up. “Hopefully that will be a very long time from now, Your Majesty.”

  “Call me…” he gives her a thoughtful look, then says, “Winston.”

  “This is Giles Bigley on location in Didsby, where the bells have just begun ringing indicating that Prince Arthur, rightful heir to the throne of Avonia, has indeed married Tessa Sharpe, who will henceforth be known as Princess Tessa, Duchess of Wellingborne.

  “Any second now the doors will swing open, and the happy couple will emerge and get into the waiting carriage for a short tour around the village and off to Didsby Castle for an intimate reception. Even though they’ve broken nearly every royal protocol today, the excitement in this tiny village, and indeed around the kingdom, is unbelievable. I’ve never seen so many smiling faces in all my days as a reporter. People rushing around the cobblestone streets wishing each other well and laughing together, thrilled to be among the very few in attendance on this beautiful June afternoon.

  “The couple will honeymoon here for two days, then head to Valcourt for the official wedding parade, followed by a luncheon with dignitaries and royals from around the globe. Once the celebrations are over, they will commence a one-month honeymoon trip including Maui, Mauritius, and the Maldives…”

  Twenty-Nine

  Three Cheers for Birthing Hips