by Frankie Love
“It was love at first sight. I know people say it’s not real, that no one can fall in love like that, but it was. We met on a ski lift thirty-five years ago, and after two days we married. Sometimes you just know.”
“I believe that sort of love is real,” Dahlia says.
“You’re a romantic, too?”
She shrugs, tucking her hair behind her ears, her pearl earring gleaming in the morning light. “I don’t know about that. I’ve just always believed in magic.”
She looks at me then, and smiles—the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. The smile of a girl with a broken heart.
I wish I could make it right, this very moment—that I could steal her away and speak to her privately, and tell her that I’m hers.
But there isn’t time. Reggie is hollering from the doorway.
“You and Reggie are invited to the palace at seven o’clock this evening for the royal wedding,” I tell Gladys. “When I spoke to the prince on the radio he insisted that I extend the invite.”
Gladys covers her mouth as she gasps. “Oh, my! That is much too generous.”
“No,” I insist. “You gave shelter to the princess, and it is his wish to thank you in person. Will the Sno-cat be able to transport you?”
Reggie nods. “It certainly will.”
“Wonderful,” I tell them. “The palace will be expecting you.”
We can hear that the Guard has arrived. A helicopter’s blades beat wildly outside. We rush out of the cabin, covering our ears at the noise.
It doesn’t bother to attempt a landing in this thick snow; instead, a ladder is dropped down, and Dahlia and I have no choice but to climb.
She wraps her arms around Gladys, then around Reggie, thanking them profusely for their hospitality.
“Congratulations, Princess,” Gladys screams over the noise, beaming at the Princess of Rochester. “May you find what I found!”
As Dahlia boldly steps onto the waving ladder, with me directly being her, refusing to let go, I hear her words whipping in the wind, and I know the older woman has no chance in hearing her.
But I hear the words. Loud and clear.
“I already have, Gladys. I already have.”
17
Once I’m in the helicopter I put on a headset that muffles the noise. I can’t hear anything anyone else is saying, but that’s a small price to pay to escape the sound of the rotors.
The flight is short. We lift high into the sky, and I look out the window, saying good-bye to the shortest-lived happily ever after in history. The cabin grows smaller and smaller as we climb higher in altitude, until it’s nothing but a dot.
Until it’s nothing at all.
That chapter is over. I can’t bear to look at Thomas—so I look ahead instead.
Rochester is grander than I ever expected. The palace looks like the photographs I saw, but somehow more stunning. The white columns spear high into the sky. The entire castle perched on the edge of a mountain, and it would seem precarious if it weren’t so clearly rooted in place.
My husband is inside that palace.
Has he waited anxiously for me?
I want to know, but I also wish I’d had more time with Thomas.
The moment the helicopter lands, I’m whisked away into private chamber. Thomas and I don’t even have a chance to say good-bye.
That’s for the best. What would we say, anyway?
In the chamber, a staff member in a starched black dress and white apron offers me tea and biscuits with stiff formality.
“Is the prince on his way to see me?” I ask.
The woman quickly hides her look of surprise, but all she says is, “A bride and groom can’t see one another on their wedding day.”
“Certainly there can be exceptions made?”
She looks befuddled. “There already has been.” She swings open an armoire. “Your attendant will be here shortly, as well as a hair and makeup stylist. The ceremony is not until late this evening—seven o’clock—but you’ll be busy until then getting ready for your day.”
“I need ten hours?”
“I just pass along the information. I don’t make the rules.”
“Of course not,” I say, flustered. I’m caught off guard at the distance between the Prince and me—but then I remember that Iris told me she had the same experience in Alpinweiss. The moment she landed there, she went straight to the chapel to marry Garrick.
The morning passes quickly. My nails are polished, my legs waxed, my hair expertly piled atop my head—all by professionals who whisked in with their entourages, ready to make me into something memorable. The entire time, I’m offered glasses of champagne and tiny bites of food. But all the caviar in the world can’t take away the gnawing in the pit of my stomach.
This is not how I wanted my wedding day to go—so utterly alone. The stylists don’t say a word to me, as if they’re scared I might bite or break. They smile, are polite, but don’t engage with me. When I try to ask about life here in Rochester, they answer with brevity and diplomacy.
I decide to keep my mouth shut, realizing I have literally zero experience with hired help. Maybe engaging with them like friends is the wrong approach.
I feel the class difference in a dramatic and immediate way. I’ve never experienced such a reality.
But none of that compares to the real reason I want to curl up in a ball and hide in the massive walk-in closet.
The truth is, I can’t believe that Thomas and I shared so much, only for me to walk away from it. To not fight for something. Anything. Us.
“Don’t you start crying, Princess,” says Meredith, the makeup girl. She blots the tears from under my eyes. “I just did your lids, and you’ll mess it all up.”
“Sorry,” I tell her, blinking so rapidly I’m scared my lash extensions are going to fall off.
“It’s okay, Princess,” she says. “I’m surprised you’re crying, though.”
“Why is that?”
“You’re marrying Prince Lucas,” she whispers breathlessly. “Every woman in the kingdom envies you. You’ll be Queen.”
I swallow. “Right. Queen.”
“I’d give anything to have my man marry me. But Thomas just avoids the conversation any time I mention it.”
At the name Thomas my stomach clenches.
The hair stylist laughs at Meredith’s comments. “Oh, my gosh. I know, right? My boyfriend and I have been together two years and still no ring.”
“Thomas and I have been together longer than that. We’ve been dating ever since he became Prince Lucas’s bodyguard. That’s over four years.”
My eyes dart between the two women, my heart pounding. Did I just sleep with a man who cheated on his girlfriend? His girlfriend of four years?
I’m unable to speak, not trusting myself with words.
Meredith holds the mascara wand and whispers to the woman, “You wanna know a cross-your-heart secret?”
The hairstylist nods, and I watch them in the mirror as Meredith leans over and whispers: “I’m pregnant. Only four weeks along, but I haven’t told Thomas yet. I was waiting until after the wedding and things with his job calmed down a bit.”
The hair stylist shoves her gently. “Girl! You’ve got to tell him.”
Meredith smiles, shaking her head. “I’m going to, of course. Maybe this weekend.”
I start hyperventilating, and stand, walking quickly away from the women. They look at me with concern.
“Are you all right Princess?” Meredith asks.
“All right?” I manage. “Um. I need a phone. I need to call my sisters.”
Before I can even dial a number—my hands are so shaky at this point it’s impossible—the door to my suite swings open. For a moment I think it might be the prince, wanting to see his bride before his wedding, but then I see an even more amazing entrance.
My sisters.
Iris and Violet run to me, arms open, and the three of us embrace.
“What in the world?�
� My jaw is dropped, and I shake my head in shock. “How did this ... aren’t you in Machu Picchu on your honeymoon?”
“Darling, your call this morning freaked me out,” Iris says, her arms still around me. “And so of course I called Violet the moment I got into town. Granted, it took me an hour or two to trek from our campground. And what do you know—before I even placed the call, Prince Lucas had called Violet.”
“He called you?” I turn to Violet, who beams at me.
“He asked if we’d fly here immediately. Hunter and I dropped our plans and boarded the plane. Iris and Garrick were able to get on a jet—which is twice as fast—and even Father got a flight from Elexia. He’ll be here shortly.”
“Why did he call? I haven’t even met the prince.”
“He said he felt you might want us here,” Iris said. “And that, combined with your call this morning … I knew we needed to get here.”
“Iris filled me in,” Violet says, looking over at Meredith and the hairstylist, who stand listening with a powder brush and hairpins in hand. “Excuse us, love,” Violet says. “But we need some privacy. Sister time?” She ushers them from the suite, and locks the door behind her, taking charge like she always does. “Dahlia, you called Iris saying you were in love with someone else. Is that true?”
I can’t hold back my tears any longer. Screw the makeup. Screw love. What a freaking joke.
I am such a fool.
“The bodyguard who picked me up when I arrived, Thomas ... we ... we ... fell in love. But it turns out he has a girlfriend. A pregnant girlfriend!”
Iris covers her mouth. Then, regaining her composure, she sits on the bed, pats the space beside her, and says, “Tell me everything.”
I recount the situation for my sister—how Thomas and I had instantly found a connection ... more than a connection. How we had found a way into one another’s hearts. I admitted my desire to wanting to give my body to someone who wanted me with no strings attached, and how Thomas was my fantasy come to life.
And then what I just learned from Meredith. How I’m a fool.
Everyone always thought I was naive, and clearly they were right.
“But Dahlia, you must have known how this would end,” Violet says, her eyes heavy.
“Of course I knew. But I thought Thomas was special. He’s everything I ever imagined a man to be. And it kills me, because I know he can’t be mine.”
Iris sighs, her lips twisting. “I’m so sorry, sister.”
“I can’t believe I’m going to marry a man the same day my heart is broken.”
“I was scared about marrying Hunter, but he turned out to be everything I ever wanted. Maybe Lucas will be the prince you’ve been dreaming of.”
“I thought Thomas loved me. I can’t believe he’d do that to his girlfriend. I’m a cheater.”
“No,” Iris shushes me, wrapping her arms around me. “You were just confused.”
I weep in her arms, knowing I wasn’t confused. Knowing it was love.
“I think you just need to put on your gown, and walk down the aisle, and put the last twenty-four hours behind you.” Violet squeezes my hand.
“Why are you both being so supportive? I mean, I know you’re my sisters—but Violet, propriety has always been your mode of operation. Aren’t you scandalized by me?”
“I’m not scandalized. I just want you to be happy.”
“You think I might be happy with Lucas, a man I’ve never met?”
Violet smiles, her eyes brimming with tears. “I met Hunter and found my soul mate. Now I believe in fairy tales, in dreams come true, and all that stuff you always talked about. I believe in it because I found my happily ever after. I want you to find yours, too.”
Iris, smiles. “And after the wedding we’re going to have Hunter and Garrick discreetly kick this bodyguard’s ass.”
I try to laugh through my tears. “You can’t do that. If the prince finds out what I did … he won’t want to marry me.”
“Dahlia, that isn’t true. This isn’t some backwards country like Alpinweiss. You can hold your head up high, knowing you followed your heart last night.”
My sisters pull me into a hug as the suite’s door swings open.
“The ceremony is set to start in less than half an hour,” Meredith declares, coming back into the room. I can’t bear to look into her eyes, and my sisters seem to understand. The entourage that’s been in and out all day comes in and offers me a distraction. The white wedding gown is whisked in, billowing satin and tulle.
I look at my sisters; they nod encouragingly.
“What if he doesn’t love me?” I ask them. “Like Garrick and Hunter love you?”
“Then he has a lot to learn, that’s all.”
I nod, knowing there’s nowhere to go but forward.
Never in a million years did I think I’d walk down the aisle so utterly heartbroken.
18
My father and Thomas enter my bedroom, grim looks on their faces.
“What is it?” I ask, adjusting my tie. I’m dressed the part of a royal prince about to see his bride.
“An issue has been brought to my attention, son,” my father starts, his brow furrowed, his hand on the spokes of his wheelchair, bringing himself closer to me. “What game are you playing here, Lucas?”
I came back to the castle this morning, and Dahlia was immediately whisked away. I had wanted to pull her aside, properly let her know how much last night meant to me, but I didn’t get a chance.
Of course I couldn’t risk seeing her before the wedding, once we were at the palace. All I needed was one person using my name and blowing my cover ... and creating a royal cluster-fuck hours before the wedding.
“Did you say something, Thomas?” I squint my eyes at him, not really caring at this point. We’re set to walk down the aisle within half an hour.
“It came up. The couple you stayed with last night arrived, had an audience with the King, I was there. It got messy.”
“Sorry.” I can’t muster much more, because what would I say? I just need to get the wedding started and everything will be fine.
“I can’t believe you thought this was a good idea.”
“At the time I thought I’d have a little fun. Pick up my princess and see what she was really like.”
“What do you think the princess will say when she learns her husband is a liar?”
I run my hand over my beard. “I know. I screwed up. And it was a stupid joke that turned into more the moment the snowstorm hit.”
My father is sick, and the last thing he needs is a disaster of a royal wedding.
“Listen, Dahlia wants a fairy tale ending. Her walking down the aisle to me is the right way to end this story. It will all work out.”
Thomas snorts. “If she shows. She’s in love with another man.”
“She’ll show. Not only is she beautiful and kind, she’s also honorable.”
“You think she will?” my father asks. “Because if she doesn’t, you’ll be the prince who was stood up at his own wedding.”
I think back to my time with Dahlia. She seemed to know with conviction that regardless of how she felt for Thomas, it was still just a one-time thing, that in the end she needed to forfeit her own happiness for others.
I’m banking on those convictions right now.
“Just start the ceremony.”
“I can’t believe you did this, Lucas,” Father says again.
“I know it was reckless.” I place my hand on his shoulder. He has been my dearest friend, and losing his respect kills me. I need him to know it wasn’t all for naught. “But I don’t regret it. Not for a moment. Dahlia is the love of my life. And now I get to marry her, knowing that.”
“But she fell in love with a bodyguard, not a prince,” Father says, looking at me with concern. “What if she doesn’t want you after all?”
“She’ll want me,” I tell him with conviction. “Thomas, go get her father; bring him to me. I need to ask for h
is daughter’s hand in marriage.”
19
My father comes to see me, because apparently everyone has gotten word that I’m having a meltdown.
“You look beautiful, Dahlia,” he tells me, pulling me into a hug.
My sisters pace the room, all of us a ball of anxious nerves. Prince Lucas just flew my family halfway around the world. Maybe he isn’t a terrible man.
But he’s still a stranger.
“Father, I can’t really talk right now,” I tell him. “My makeup is ruined, I’m still in a slip, and my wedding is about to begin.”
Ignoring my words, he says, “I’m so glad I was able to be here, that I was invited. I know I made a mess of a lot of things, and don’t have the respect of my daughters, but—”
Violet stops him “Don’t say that, Father. You’ve done the best you could.”
He shrugs sadly. “I could have done better. After your mother died, when you were all so young ... I gave up.”
Tears fill my eyes, and I don’t even try to blink them away. Father never speaks of Mother, and the word on his lips is foreign and painful.
“Father, you don’t need to apologize. You’ve been heartbroken,” Iris says. “And healing takes time.”
Violet, always the one to keep things in order, claps her hands. “But right now we don’t exactly have time. The wedding is set to begin.”
“This is a disaster.” I look in the mirror, wiping the mascara from my cheeks. I look like the bride of Frankenstein.
“Elexia thanks you for your sacrifice, Dahlia,” Father says. “Your marriage is such a gift to the citizens of our beautiful country.”
His words jolt me back to reality. This isn’t just about me. It’s about so much more. It’s about an entire country.
I take a deep breath.
I’m devastated. Embarrassed. Mortified. But this wedding is about more than the love between a man and a woman. It’s about bringing two nations together, about commitment and honor.
While Lucas and I aren’t soul mates, this marriage is still based on love.