The Marriage Pact

by Winter Renshaw

Julian

  I slam my phone down and massage my temples. My father is at it again, and Monday’s headlines are worse than Sunday’s.

  Emelie is upstairs, trying on her wedding gown with the team of tailors who’ve been working round the clock to get it finished. I’ve been told I’m not allowed to see it until the big day, so I’m holed up in my study, watching videos of my father losing his cool on live television. At this point, the media outlets aren’t going to stop him. The crazier he sounds, the higher their ratings and the more ads they sell. He’s their cash cow.

  Their ranting, raving, maniacal cash cow.

  He’s always prided himself on being some modern king, but he’s nothing more than a laughingstock. The thing that children’s fables are made of. The emperor with no clothes.

  Grabbing my phone, I call my assistant, Harrison. The wedding is in three weeks and I need to ensure he’s made all the travel and accommodation arrangements for Emelie’s friends and family. Her mother and sisters are to stay here at the palace while most of the others are staying at Rothmond Cottage. Harrison was supposed to be working on booking five-star hotel suites for the rest.

  I get Harrison’s voicemail, which is hopefully a sign that he’s on another line with a hotel, but I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. When I’m finished leaving a message, I hang up and dial my mother, who answers in the middle of the third ring.

  “You have to do something about him,” I say. “It’s getting out of hand. Actually, it’s been out of hand for months and it’s only getting worse.”

  “Don’t you think I know that, Julian?” she asks. “He still refuses to see a doctor. What am I supposed to do?”

  There’s a hint of desperation in her tone, though perhaps it’s simple exhaustion.

  “How is wedding planning coming along?” she asks, changing the subject.

  “Swimmingly, Mum,” I say. “Emelie is upstairs right now trying on her gown. Ms. Divine is handling the rest.”

  “Might I ask why the need to rush this along? What’s wrong with a proper engagement period? Are you sure there’s no … baby?” She whispers the word ‘baby.’

  “I’m positive there’s no baby,” I say. “And we’re moving full speed ahead because I’ve loved her my whole life and I don’t want to wait another second to make her mine.”

  “The two of you didn’t speak for years, Julian,” she says. She’s going to be a hard sell, I see.

  “Yes, I know. Love is funny that way, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. Funny, indeed,” she says. “Well, you know I adore Emelie, but I just want to ensure there’s no funny business going on behind the scenes … You have to admit this all came about rather abruptly.”

  “Yes, Mum. It did,” I say. “We’re just as surprised as you are at how things have come about …”

  It’s the truth.

  “Your father’s back from the Holcomb News Center,” she says. “I best be going. Kisses.”

  She ends the call, and a text message fills my screen.

  Someone has sent me an article from a Chamontian gossip website, and I click the link only to be met with a headline claiming Dayanara and I are secretly back together.

  I laugh.

  If they only knew.

  The photo of the two of us is old, and I know that because the sunglasses I’m wearing in it were destroyed in a polo match last year. I never did get a replacement since they stopped making that style years ago.

  I resist the urge to read the comments and instead I call Harrison a second time, leaving yet another voicemail. “Harrison, when you’re finished handling the wedding travel affairs, I’d like you to handle some arrangements for this weekend—I’ve decided I’m taking my bride-to-be to Paris.”

  I can’t think of a more fitting or appropriate getaway for the two of us than a couple of days in one of the most romantic cities in the world.

  Chapter 35

  Emelie

  I press my palm flat against my knotted stomach as I stare at my reflection.

  I’m a vision in ivory, all tulle and lace and bare shoulders. There’s a woman to my right with a case full of tiaras. She says she only brought a few, but if I don’t like any of these, she’ll bring more next time.

  I love them all.

  The first one I tried was heavier than I expected, and filled with glinting and glimmering diamonds and rare and precious gems. The woman rattled off a bunch of ceremonies and historical moments these crowns have seen in their day, but honestly, this entire morning has been a surreal blur.

  Everything’s happening so fast, and standing here in this dress is a reminder of this.

  A month ago, I was teaching third grade.

  Now I’m standing in the most beautiful dress I’ve ever laid eyes on, staring into a gilded mirror in a centuries-old palace in an island kingdom, about to marry my first love who will someday be a king.

  The room begins to spin and my lungs struggle for air.

  “Get me out of this dress, please,” I say, fanning myself as a team of women work to unbutton the dozens of hidden pearl buttons that trail down the back of my bodice.

  I need to sit down, and the second the dress is off and I’m left in nothing more than a strapless silk slip, I collapse in a nearby chair.

  One of the tailors carries the dress away, out of sight, and someone else brings me a glass of water seemingly out of nowhere.

  I’ve never felt so … important.

  I take a sip of water and a handful of deep, cleansing breaths, and then I close my eyes. When I open them a minute later, I realize the room has cleared and my future husband is standing in the doorway.

  “Are you okay?” he asks as he comes to me. “They said you had an episode.”

  My eyes rest on his, and somehow being in his presence instills a sense of calm that wasn’t there a few minutes ago.

  “Yeah? I think so? I am now.”

  “Do you not like the dress?”

  I laugh. He should know me better than that. “The dress is perfect.”

  “What happened?” He’s on bended knee now, my hands gathered in his as he gazes up into my eyes.

  “I just panicked, I think.” I shrug. “I don’t know. I was in the dress, and then all of a sudden I couldn’t breathe and I kept thinking about how everything is happening so fast.”

  Julian pauses for a moment. “Emelie, your life is about to change in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine. But they’re going to be the best years of your life. I’ll make sure of that.”

  He rises, pulling me to a standing, and then he takes me in his arms.

  “You have absolutely nothing to worry about,” he says before he kisses me. “You have my word.”

  Chapter 36

  Julian

  We’re en route to Paris Friday morning, and I don’t think Emelie has stopped smiling once since I surprised her with the news a few hours ago. She said she’s never been to Paris and she doesn’t speak an ounce of French. Fortunately for her, I’m fluent and I’m very much looking forward to taking her under my wing and showing her a weekend she’ll never forget.

  “Your Royal Highness,” the flight attendant says as she walks by. “The captain told me to let you know we have another thirty-three minutes remaining.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you,” I say.

  She disappears behind the privacy curtain and Emelie nuzzles up to me, her fingers interlaced in mine.

  Pulling in a deep breath, she exhales. “What were you like in college?”

  “That’s random.”

  “I know, but I was thinking about all the time we lost and how we never knew each other during those college years. What kind of student were you? What did you do for fun?”

  I don’t often try to think about those years because many of them are marred with memories of Dayanara, but I’ll do my best.

  “I spent two years in the Chamont military,” I say, “as my civic duty. And then I went to Hillford University, where I studied International Aff
airs and Economics.”

  “I know that,” she says, glancing up at me. “I’m asking what you were like.”

  “You checked up on me over the years?”

  “I mean, yeah. I read your Wikipedia page …”

  I smirk. “Well, isn’t that adorable.”

  I must admit, had she been a public figure, I’d have done the same thing.

  “So what were you like?” she asks. “Were you more of a Will or a Harry? Were you studious or were you a wild child?”

  “Probably somewhere in between,” I say. “What about you? What were you like? And did you have any boyfriends?”

  “I like how you just slipped that last question in there,” she says with a wink. “Very smooth.”

  “So did you?”

  “I had some boyfriends, yes,” she says. “But nothing serious.”

  She examines my hand in hers, tracing her fingers against the lines of my palm.

  “I always compared them to you,” she says. “Which was ridiculous, I know. I mean, we dated for half of a summer when I was sixteen. But you left such a mark on me and you were the first guy I ever really fell for, so every guy who came after you …”

  “I thought about you all the time,” I say, since we’re playing this little confessional game. “Probably too much, if we’re being honest.” I sniff. “I can’t believe I’m admitting this to you.”

  “I’m glad you are,” she says, nudging me. “It’s part of that whole brutal honest thing you promised, remember?”

  “Right, right,” I say, pausing for a beat before adding, “I don’t think a single day went by that I didn’t think about you in some capacity. Though I’ll admit sometimes they were revenge fantasies. You broke my heart, Emelie. Or at least I believed you did.” I kiss the top of her head. It still kills me to think about what happened to her, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to her.

  Emelie rests her head on my shoulder, and I listen to the sound of her breathing me in. The brutal honesty thing is terrifying, I’ll admit, but it isn’t as hard as I thought it would be—not with her. I’ve never been one to open up to anyone, but with Emelie, it seems to come natural. Maybe it’s because she’s so genuine that it makes me feel that I can be genuine right along side of her. I don’t have to pretend with her. I don’t have to put on an act.

  I can be me.

  “Emelie,” I say.

  “Yes?”

  “I love you.” My heart thrums in my ears and my chest is tight.

  An endless moment passes before Emelie sits up and turns to face me. For a second she seems to be rendered speechless, and then she climbs into my lap and slips her arms over my shoulders. I rest my hands on her hips.

  “I love you too,” she says. She’s looking into my eyes, but in a way, it feels deeper … like she’s looking into my soul.

  I loved her then.

  I love her still.

  Chapter 37

  Emelie

  I stand back as Julian orders our coffee in French Saturday morning. Is there anything not sexy about him? Good God. Dressed in blue slacks and a white button down cuffed at his elbows, I haven’t been able to stop staring at him.

  “Here you are,” he says a moment later, handing me a small cup of Parisian coffee.

  I’m wearing skinny black pants that stop above my ankle, a black cashmere sweater with pearl buttons, and some Chanel flats Julian bought for me from the Chanel store around the corner from our hotel. This might be the chicest I’ve ever felt in my life, and every time Julian glances my way, he lets his gaze linger before taking my hand and pulling me against him.

  I can’t keep my eyes off him.

  And when we’re alone, he can’t keep his hands off me.

  It’s a winning combination, and I have zero complaints.

  “Where to now?” I ask as we leave the café. My phone has been blowing up this weekend with texts from my sisters and friends back home. I can’t wait to tell them how well things are going—then again, I can wait … because I’m having the time of my life with Julian right now, and I don’t want to miss a thing.

  “Eiffel Tower,” he says. “It’s a bit touristy and smaller than most people expect, but you can’t come here without seeing it at least once.”

  He leads me through the busy city sidewalks. A handful of security guards walk around us, all of them led by Rafa. So far, only a few people have recognized Julian and a handful of them have asked for pictures or autographs. He says for the most part, the French leave him alone and it’s one of the many reasons why Paris is one of his favorite cities in the world.

  “Oh, hey, can we stop up there?” I ask, pointing to a small booth on a corner up ahead. A woman in a pink beret is selling jewelry, but I’m after something else. Growing up, my family was always big on souvenirs anytime we’d take a trip. I want to get Julian something small, something he can remember this weekend by. After a few minutes of browsing, I decide on a pair of marble cufflinks in white gold. I don’t have much in my bank account but given the fact that I haven’t had to spend a dime of it since arriving, I can at least do this for him. And besides, I want to. We sould have something to commemorate our Paris trip. “Here.”

  I hand him the bag.

  “These are for you,” I add.

  “You didn’t have to get me anything, Emelie,” he says as he examines them.

  “I wanted to,” I say. We begin to walk. “And they’re marble. Marble is timeless, and it starts out raw and then it becomes something precious.”

  “Thank you.” He kisses my forehead and I link my arm through his.

  In a city of millions, today it feels like it’s just us.

  Even Rafa and the rest of our security detail fade away.

  For a fraction of a second, I can’t help but wonder what kinds of exciting things we’d have done together these past eight years if it weren’t for what Liam did, but then I decide to focus on the present moment because the present moment is beautiful.

  Like this city.

  Like him.

  Like this budding love that came out of absolutely nowhere.

  Chapter 38

  Julian

  “Move in with me,” I say Sunday night when we return to the palace from our weekend in Paris. It’s late and we’re both exhausted. Our bags are waiting outside our bedroom doors. All I want to do is climb into my bed and turn out the lights, but I know I’ll just lie there and think about how much I wish I was lying next to her.

  “What?” She half-laughs.

  “It’s ridiculous now, don’t you think? Living like roommates when we can’t stay out of each other’s beds for more than two minutes at a time?”

  I cup her chin, angling her mouth until it aligns with mine, and then I taste her lips. Peppermint lip balm. And then her tongue. Cinnamon.

  “I want you with me always,” I say. “Will you move in with me, Em?”

  Her lips tug up at the corners as she kisses me.

  “Yes,” she says.

  Taking her in my arms, my arms, I carry her to my—our—bedroom.

  “I love you,” I tell her as I turn out the lights a couple of minutes later. She climbs under the covers and I take the spot beside her.

  “I love you too.”

  Emelie curls into my arms, and I realize I’m not going to get any sleep tonight regardless … because I can’t stop staring at her, studying the Cupid’s bow of her upper lip, the perfectly straight line of her nose, or the peaceful expression on her face as she drifts off.

  I could never tire of this.

  Chapter 39

  Emelie

  “Did you get the itinerary and tickets?” I ask Mama over the phone Monday. The wedding is in less than two weeks. “Harrison said he sent them.”

  “Yes,” she says, “I’m looking at them right now! We’re all so excited, Em. You have no idea. Did I tell you The Today Show called and asked me to do an interview?”

  “You declined, right?” I ask. It�
��s royal policy that all interviews are vetted and approved here first.

  “Oh, honey, of course I did. I know the rules.”

  “Just checking …”

  “Are you getting nervous for the big day? Is everything going well with you and Julian? Getting to know each other all over again, I presume?”

  I silently chuckle at all of her questions. We haven’t been talking on the phone the last couple weeks as much as we did that first week. I’ve been so busy with everything.

  “Everything’s going well, Mama. Actually, I’m pretty excited,” I say.

  “That’s the spirit,” she says. “That’s my girl. Always looking on the bright side just like your daddy taught you. Where’s Julian?”

  “He’s at his suit fitting.”

  Apparently he has to wear a special kind of suit for the wedding, and the tailors have been working around the clock for weeks on all the embroidery and extra detailing that goes into it.

  “Have you discussed with Julian what kinds of things you’ll be doing after the wedding?” she asks.

  “A little bit,” I say. “It’ll be mostly philanthropic kinds of things at first. Volunteering and charities and making appearances and raising awareness to different causes. We’ll also do some traveling, goodwill ambassador type of things on behalf of Chamont. Julian’s already working out a travel schedule for us.”

  “He must know how much you hate surprises,” she says.

  “Actually, he surprised me with a trip to Paris this past weekend,” I say. “And I didn’t hate it …”

  Mama laughs. “Well, I’m glad to hear things are going well for the two of you. I’ve just always known in my heart of hearts that you two were meant to be.”

  There’s a swift knock at my door, and when I glance up, I find Araminta standing there, hands clasped at her waist.

  “So sorry to interrupt, Ms. Belleseau, but Prince Julian is almost finished with his fitting, and he wanted to know if you’d care to join him in the study for a game of backgammon.”