My Best Friend's Royal Wedding
Page 27
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.
“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 twenty-first century, and ordinary people from all walks of life have married into the royal families of Europe – 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 movies 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 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.”
“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.
***
We marry in the frescoed Church of St József in Arenberg at Christmastime. 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, leaded 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 gray-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
If you enjoyed My Best Friend’s Royal Wedding, you can find Romy Sommer’s other books right here if you’re in the UK and here if you’re in the US!
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In the mood for even more enchanting romances for the ages?
You will adore Just As You Are by Kate Mathieson, a laugh-out-loud and life-affirming novel set in the bustling heart of Sydney about every woman who has ever wanted to find The One.
Click here if you’re in the UK.
Click here if you’re in the US.
You will also love The New Guy by Kathryn Freeman, an irresistible romantic comedy about a woman who discovers her hot hook up from the night before is none other than her new employee.
Click here if you’re in the UK.
Click here if you’re in the US.
And why not try the similarly bewitching A Dozen Second Chances by Kate Field, an empowering novel of heartbreak and new love following the story of a mother searching for a fresh start on the eve of her fortieth birthday.
Click here if you’re in the UK.
Click here if you’re in the US.
About the Author
Once upon a time, Romy dreamed of living inside one of the fairy tales in her head. But she grew up in Durban, South Africa – not exactly the sort of place where fairy tale princesses grow up. It took the help of a great many fairy godmothers, the slaying of a few dragons, and not nearly enough pretty glass shoes, for Romy to eventually became the princess she’d always dreamed of being.
As a 2016 finalist for the Romance Writers of America® RITA Award, and as Chairperson of ROSA (Romance writers Organisation of South Africa), all of Romy’s dreams have come true. She is not only a multi-published author, but as a writing coach and teacher, she now helps make other writers’ dreams come true too.
Though Romy’s heart lies in Europe, she doesn’t cope well with the cold, so she lives in sunny South Africa, in the City of Gold, Johannesburg, where she is mom to two little princesses and a pet dragon (okay, he’s a bearded dragon, but that counts!)
She writes contemporary fairy tale romances and short 1920s historical romances.
romysommer.com
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