Royally Yours

by Liz Johnson

  And there were so many sweet ones.

  True, but there was also a very, very sour one. And somehow all the sweet ones made a perfect path that led straight to the heartbreak.

  One foot. Then the other.

  She just had to make it through that night.

  And then the rest of her life loomed before her.

  She let out a sigh as she reached the doorway, sagging against the frame. The winter wonderland they’d so thoughtfully prepared was empty now. Empty without Andrew.

  Taking over the hardware store had never been about loving the business or wanting to extend her father’s legacy. It had been a safe place to decide what to do with her future. And now she had all the safety and security she wanted—and no future.

  A tear slid down her cheek, but her arms were too full to wipe it away.

  Gram stood by the card table, her hands on her hips and a full-on scowl taking form across her lips.

  “Did he leave without saying goodbye?”

  “No.” Charlie took the stairs with extra care.

  “Did he tell you he doesn’t want to see you again?” Gram’s eyes narrowed. “Arrogant royal,” she muttered.

  Setting her load on the table, Charlie shook her head. “No.”

  Gram’s eyebrows rose. “He didn’t leave without telling you he was going? He didn’t say he never wants to see you again? Then why all of . . .” Gram waved in her general direction, encompassing all of her.

  Charlie shook her head. “It was never going to work out. He’s a prince from Europe. I’m a small-town hardware store owner.”

  “Bah!” Gram nearly knocked over the stacks of Styrofoam cups she’d unpacked. “You are a Broadway star!”

  “Was. I was on Broadway, and I was never a star.”

  “I saw you perform. You, my dear, were as much of a star as Patti LuPone.”

  “Gram!” Charlie spun on her, a disbelieving laugh already rippling off her tongue. “You can’t say things like that. Patti LuPone is Broadway royalty.”

  “I can say whatever I darn well please. I’m old, and I love my granddaughter, and anyone who can’t see just how special you are doesn’t deserve you.”

  Charlie accepted a hug this time, leaning into Gram’s embrace. She was small and frail. Gram was also her only family, so she held on tight. “I told him to go.”

  “What did he do to deserve that?”

  Holding her breath, she squeezed her eyes closed and blurted out the truth. “He asked me to go with him.”

  Gram pushed her away with surprising strength. Crossing the arms of her puffy white jacket, she resembled a snowman. A scowling snowman. “Excuse me?”

  “I—I couldn’t go with him. Who would watch out for you and take care of the store? My whole life is here.”

  “What a terrible excuse.”

  “It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth.”

  Houses up and down the block burst into color and motion as the sun fully disappeared and darkness settled over them. Charlie motioned to Gram to plug in the cord, and she did, but not without a string of mutterings.

  “Hogwash. Not an excuse . . . course it’s an excuse.”

  Charlie wanted to set Gram straight, but their first visitors of the evening began pouring into the driveway, holding out their hands for a warm cup of cider, oohing and aahing over the lights and glittering snow. Charlie ladled hot cider into the cups as fast as she could, but there was always a line. Always time to stew over Gram’s assumptions.

  So what if she’d been hiding out in Tinsel for the last eight years or so. This was a good life. It was a fine life. She had no complaints.

  Except that Andrew was somewhere halfway around the world. And she’d probably never see him again.

  That pain in her chest, the one that felt like her heart being ripped in half and then in half the other way, returned. She’d felt it all the night before too.

  It was sadness, a sign that she missed him. It was not guilt over letting fear rule her life.

  Suddenly behind the line forming for cider, a trio of clipboard-toting judges arrived. One man and two women, their eyes bright and alive with the wonder of a fresh snowfall. Mrs. Carruthers had put together an impressive sleigh ride scene, complete with animatronic reindeer. And there was even a home a few doors down boasting a giant gingerbread house in the front yard. Every family had put together their best for the tourists and locals alike.

  Charlie and Andrew had harnessed the wonder of a fresh snowfall. They’d created peace in the midst of chaos.

  And wasn’t peace the opposite of fear? Maybe the opposite of fear was trust. But without trust she couldn’t have peace. It wasn’t a question of if she trusted Andrew. Absolutely she did.

  But did she trust herself?

  The judges bowed stocking-capped heads over their boards and then put them together. A small crowd gathered around, buzzing with excitement. Every home had been judged and only one could take the bragging rights.

  “We have a winner! The winter wonderland!”

  The street erupted with cheers, and several people asked her to pass their congratulations on to Mrs. Hillstone.

  Charlie wanted to join the celebration, but it was empty without Andrew by her side.

  As she carried the empty pot back into the house and helped Gram up the steps, she smiled. “Thank you for your help.”

  While Charlie set down her load, Gram unwound the scarf from about her neck with a small shake of her head. “I’m glad you won, but I think you’ve lost what’s most important.”

  Collapsing onto the couch, she hugged herself through her parka, fighting tears she’d been holding back all night. “I know. But I can’t help it.”

  “Of course you can.” Gram pressed a hand to her knee. “Ever since you came back from New York, you have been too afraid to live your life.”

  “You don’t know the mistakes I made though.”

  “I know no one is perfect. I know we’re more than our mistakes. And I know that we can change. If we can’t, what a sad life this would be. If every one of us could only be as good as our worst moment . . . well, you’re not. I’m not either.

  “And the fact that you know how your choices affect others makes you more empathetic, more compassionate. Why would you hide that? How will you ever prove to yourself that you’ve grown if you never take the opportunity to?”

  Charlie hung her head and let the words wash over her.

  “Honey, I love you. But you can’t let fear keep you from heaven-sent blessings.”

  “Andrew?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s a good man. Kind and compassionate. And I think he loves you.” Her eyes twinkled. “Besides, he looks just like his grandfather, and that’s not a bad thing.”

  The Royal Marvonia Christmas Eve Feast was a disaster.

  Andrew stabbed another bite of tasteless salmon with his fork while the woman on his left droned on and on about her dogs. But at least that was preferable to the pathetic pout of Alexandra on his right. He shot sabers out of his eyes at his mother, who had quite conveniently forgotten to tell him that Alexandra had accepted the invitation to the feast long before she’d thrown a ring at his head.

  Now she sat beside him, back rigid and colder than Tinsel ever had been. And if he had to guess, everyone in the room felt bad for her, the scorned girlfriend heartlessly tossed aside for an American schemer. That’s what the tabloids had taken to calling Charlie, anyway.

  And every interaction he’d had with the governors in attendance had been stiff and awkward. He’d succinctly presented the crux of his proposal. He’d laid out the facts and figures. And four of the six governors in attendance had waved him off. They were most certainly thinking exactly the same thing as everyone else at the enormous table.

  Silverware clinked against china, and the low hum of conversation continued. It took everything inside him not to rip off his ridiculous bowtie and ditch his tuxedo for a soft cotton sweater and a pair of jeans.

  But even
thinking about what he’d worn in Tinsel was dangerous. Because it inevitably made him picture Charlie. Charlie with her wide, easy smile. Charlie with her quick laughter that somehow always set him at ease. Charlie with the intriguing questions and thoughtful commentary.

  Charlie who made his heart pound and head spin.

  Charlie.

  By the time his father stood to announce they would move into the parlor for after-dinner drinks, Andrew was nearly ready to slink up the back stairwell to his childhood room and give up his title and whatever help he’d hoped to be.

  But if he wasn’t willing to fight for his people, to try again to serve them well, why had he ever left Charlie’s side?

  Pushing his chair out from the table, he suddenly realized he’d waited too long, and Alexandra had found a moment alone with him.

  “You think you can make a fool of me with that girl?” she hissed in his ear through clenched teeth. “You think you can embarrass me and get away with it?”

  “You embarrassed yourself.”

  “That girl is nothing but a would-be actress with no talent or skill.”

  Andrew spun on her then, his fists clenched at his sides. “Charlie is everything that you are not. Classy and kind and warm.” The words ran through his mind on repeat, and for a moment he could picture Charlie there, brightening the room and convincing stuffy governors to share their own Christmas memories. “I’ll thank you to leave me and my family alone. You’re not welcome at the palace any longer.”

  Then he spun and strolled to the parlor, ignoring Alexandra’s whimpering reply.

  The men had gathered with their cups of port before the massive Christmas tree, the two governors he’d yet to speak with standing together. Taking a deep breath, he tugged on the waist of his jacket and meandered across the intricate Persian rug.

  Classy and kind and warm.

  “Gerald,” he said, as he approached the duo. Clapping the governor on the arm, he held out his hand.

  Gerald looked at him through a haze of confusion, staring first at his outstretched hand and then at his face. “Your Royal Highness?”

  Andrew kept his smile bright, unforced. “I’m glad you could make it tonight.”

  Gerald nodded, finally shaking hands.

  “You too, Frederick.”

  The other man’s white eyebrows rose halfway up to his bald head, his eyes wide and wondering. But he eagerly shook hands, his grip firm.

  “Merry Christmas,” Andrew said. “Will you be celebrating with your families tomorrow?”

  “Yes, yes, of course.” Frederick stuttered slightly, a strange smile beginning to play first in his eyes and then reaching his mouth.

  Kind and warm. They were not Andrew’s strong suit. But Charlie had brought it out in him, reminded him that he was a person, just like every one of his countrymen. What would she say to these men?

  “Have you gotten all your Christmas presents wrapped?”

  Both men burst out laughing. “My wife handles those things,” Gerald confessed.

  “But what do you do with your gifts for her?” Andrew asked, and they all laughed again. He clapped a hand on Frederick’s shoulder, making the other man’s eyes light up.

  Their conversation flowed smoothly for several more minutes before Gerald said, “There’s something different about you tonight, sir. I hope you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Not at all.” Andrew let his face relax and forced himself to embrace the real him, not the prince trying to impress, but the man with a passion. “The truth is that I met a woman.” He nudged Frederick, who glanced toward his statuesque wife across the room, a broad smile settling into place.

  Gerald sipped his port. “Funny how they change us.”

  “Oh?”

  “Certainly. Before I met my wife, I had big dreams of running for a spot on the school board. Now look at me—governor of an entire county.”

  Andrew chuckled. The right woman had a funny way of making a man believe in his own dreams. And showing him how to pursue those.

  That’s what Charlie had done. It had been so soft and subtle that he’d hardly noticed her changing him, challenging him to be more of the man he wanted to be. More personable, more kind, more real. He needed that in his life. He needed her in his life. Every single day.

  Like a fool he’d left her behind, but he was not going to leave her there. Not without telling her that he’d do whatever it took to be with her.

  “So tell us about this proposal of yours. My staff has been buzzing about it for weeks.”

  Andrew smiled. He’d happily tell them about his proposal for Marvonia, but then he needed to cook up a proposal of an entirely different sort.

  Charlie didn’t know if castles had doorbells. But if they did, she was going to ring the one at the royal palace in Marvonia until Andrew came to the door.

  That was the extent of her plan after one sleepless night. But she had more than eight hours on a plane to figure out what she would say when she got him to the door. There would definitely be an apology. Perhaps some groveling. Some self-deprecation would likely be appropriate.

  Really, she was happy to say whatever she needed to gain his forgiveness. To get him to give her another chance. Letting fear make her decisions didn’t guarantee that she’d never be hurt or never make mistakes again. It just guaranteed that she’d be forced to live a life of a totally different kind of regret.

  Around three in the morning, as she had flopped over again, she’d realized that Gram was right. Some regrets she couldn’t fix. Some mistakes really hurt others. But she’d learned that lesson—lost those friendships. And all she could do was ask for forgiveness, try to make things right, and try not to make those mistakes again.

  But if she only ever lived in fear of repeating her blunders, she wasn’t learning from them. She was letting them control her life.

  Unacceptable.

  By eight in the morning, she’d made her decision to go after him. Throwing several sweaters and long pants into her overnight bag, she hiked it onto her shoulder. But she stopped when she reached the top of the stairway. Andrew said it didn’t snow in Marvonia. Maybe it was mild all year round. She quickly tossed several t-shirts into the bag along with her toiletries. The clothes wouldn’t last long, but she’d make them last long enough to convince him to give her another chance.

  Racing down the stairwell, she flew through the stockroom, and ran for the front door. The next flight left Boston in four hours. If she sped the whole way there, she could just make it.

  Hand on the front door, she froze. Something was different. Something was off.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. Her window that faced Main Street—the one Mayor Hayden had been after her to decorate—was alive with twinkling lights that danced around the windowsills. The corners had been flocked with fake snow. Someone had painted Hudson’s Hardware wishes you a Merry Christmas.

  It was perfect.

  She looked around for the mastermind until her eyes landed on the gazebo across the street. A lone form leaned against the frame of the entry at the top of the stairs.

  “Andrew.”

  She flung down her bag and raced across the street. He hurried down the steps, meeting her in the middle of the town square and swinging her into his arms.

  “I shouldn’t have left,” he said, his eyes brighter than the morning sun.

  She threw her arms about his neck. “I should have gone with you.”

  He set her back down, cupping her cheeks with hands. They were warm and gentle and steady—just like he was. “I need you, Charlie. I didn’t realize how much you’d changed me until I was talking with two grandfathers about family and Christmas and life, and I realized that you showed me how kindness and warmth can make me a better prince.”

  “I think you were already a pretty fantastic prince.”

  “Whoa. You didn’t even know who I was. And what’s with the compliment?”

  She shoved his shoulder, pressing into him.
“You’re okay. I like you pretty well.”

  Leaning toward her, he whispered, “I like you a lot. And I’d like to propose—”

  “What? You can’t—it’s way too early!”

  He held up his hands and shook his head. “I’d like to propose that we find a way to make you and me work. That—if you don’t want to move to Marvonia, which I’d really love you to—I’ll find a way to visit you all the time. I have to be there—especially since I have two governors backing my jobs proposal—”

  “What?” She wrapped her arms about his waist and held on tight. “I’m so happy for you! That’s wonderful!”

  He caught her gaze and it burned into her, yet she couldn’t look away.

  “I need you, Charlotte Hudson. You make me a better prince. But more than that, you make me a better man. I need you in my life for that, but even more, I need you because I’m falling in love with you.”

  Just as he spoke the words, the sky opened up and big wet snowflakes drifted from the heavens. She lifted her face up to the sky and laughed. “Maybe it’s a sign. I must be falling for you too, Andrew. But . . . I’m not a lady or a countess.”

  “Oh, the Windsor boys paved the way for the rest of us. I’m free to choose whomever I want. And I choose you.” He scooped her into his arms, swung her around and finally stopped, their faces even. Pressing his lips to hers, he sighed. Maybe she did too. Probably.

  Mostly she just hung on as her head spun and her heart sang.

  “Thank you for making me a better man.”

  She pressed her face into his neck and smelled the evergreen there. “Thank you for being safe, so I can be brave.”

  “Anytime.” He leaned in for another kiss but stopped with only a breath between them. “But tell me, did we win?”

  Her kiss could leave him with no doubt. They’d won the contest and something much more wonderful.

  Epilogue

  “You look like a princess.”

  Charlie stopped spinning in her ethereal blue ball gown, looking up from the mesmerizing gemstones sewn into fabric. “Gram! You can’t say that now.”