Sophie takes my hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Yes, only one, Aly. You should be standing up there with the rest of us.”
“You…you want me to stand up with the wedding party? In front of all these p-people?” I stammer.
Sophie leans close, so only I can hear her words. “Family stands together. Now, will you join me up there, so I can marry the love of my life?”
As my eyes make their way up to the altar, all the spectators, staff, and press disappear. All I can see are the Dudley boys waiting for me, smiles gracing their faces. I don’t attempt to blink away the tears of happiness that spill down my face. I’ll never again hide what I feel.
Once we finally make it back to the altar, me standing next to Ollie as we listen to Sophie and Freddie say their vows, I feel a small tug on my jersey. “Couldn’t you at least have worn a Manchester United jersey instead of that wretched Liverpool one? It’s a bloody royal wedding, Ryans,” he whispers.
Covertly, I lightly elbow him in the stomach. “Never said I was perfect,” I whisper back.
Ollie grins down at me. “Thank God for that.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
22 Years, 10 Months, and 18 Days
“You aren’t making things any better by getting your knickers in a twist,” Aiden pipes in. “It’s only for a few months. There’s no need to throw a paddy.” Ollie stops his pacing and rounds on his brother so fast, I’m afraid he’ll break the space-time continuum.
“Aiden’s right,” I call out from the doorway.
Ollie rushes over to me and takes me in his arms. The tension that locked up my shoulders and neck only moments ago disappears as I settle into his embrace. I get it. I do. I don’t want to be separated from Ollie, either. Especially since it took me so long to figure out that I belong with him in the first place.
But Aiden is right.
We survived being separated for years. We can handle a few months.
After the media outlets finally got bored talking about the wedding, their attention turned back to my drama, and it quickly became apparent that they weren’t going to let the story go. Not when the news broke that I was now dating Oliver Dudley, third in line for the throne of England.
Ollie wanted to go on every news program he could get on. Defend my honor and all that jazz. But our fathers thought it might be better to take another route. They felt it would be best if I established myself, asserted my own identity, outside of the royal family. The world only knows me in terms of my connection to the royal family. I am the girl who grew up in the palace. The girl who is best friends with the young princes. The girl who is dating Oliver Dudley.
But I’m more than just that girl.
If Ollie went out there and fought my battles, I’d always be just that.
And so the plan was formed.
Ollie would go on his tour as ambassador for the palace. I would stay behind and finish school. That part was my idea. Well, the school bit. My father and the king insisted I couldn’t make the narrative about me if I was still plus one-ing it on someone else’s journey.
Turns out there may have been some truth to what the professor said about dyslexia. My father and I are working with some professionals and a tutor to figure out my next steps. I’m not sure if I will continue my schooling in England or the States, but I’m not ever going to run from the challenge again. I’m even considering going into teaching. Maybe a P.E. teacher or a coach.
“You don’t have to do this. Any of this.” Ollie whispers.
I pull back so I can look up at Ollie. “Yes, I do. You know that. If I don’t take this stand, I’ll always be running. I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime.”
My father clears his throat. “I think we’re ready.”
Ollie groans. “I don’t like this.”
“This was your idea. Remember? Back before the poo hit the fan,” I reply, forcing a smile even though everything inside of me is screaming to bolt.
“You sure you trust this chap?” Aiden asks, flanking my father.
I nod. “Yeah, he could have broke the story months ago, and he didn’t. I trust him.”
And here was the other part of the plan. A sit-down interview. A chance to get it all out in the open. Even though I spent the last three days working with the family’s public relations team, I still don’t feel ready.
I gently press my lips against Ollie’s. I run my hands down his clenched fists until he releases them. “Don’t worry, jackass. I love to win. Remember? I mean, hell, I’ve spent years kicking your ass.”
The side of Ollie’s mouth twitches. He reaches up and runs a hand down my hair. “Fight the good fight for England, lass.”
“Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “But I’ll fight for the Dudleys.”
Wyatt clears his throat as he pulls on the collar of his shirt.
“You all right there?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“I just didn’t realize there would be so many cameras and lights. I’m used to slightly smaller schemes. You know, like chasing someone through a bus station. Ready to record an interview on my iPhone type of deal.”
“Well, what can I say, Wyatt? You’ve made it to the big time.” It helps that he’s as nervous as I am. I take a deep breath. “So, any advice?”
He glances back at the cameras. “They’re not rolling yet, right?”
“No. Not till I give them the signal.”
Wyatt scoots until he’s sitting on the edge of his chair. He leans his arms on his knees. “Don’t treat the audience like they’re idiots. None of those staged answers some PR person fed you. The people will see right through that. Part of the allure of stories about princes and princesses is that we all imagine that one day we could be them. We want you guys to be like us. So, be human. Be honest. Be you.”
And so I do just that.
I tell my story.
I don’t cringe when we get to the difficult parts. The parts about my mother or school or the professor. I admit my mistakes. Oddly, it feels pretty freaking great to talk about it.
I don’t know when it happens, but at some point, the room fills with all the people I love. The king. Mrs. Wright. Liam. Sophie. My father. The darn Dudley boys. They all sit and listen, and I don’t, not even for one second, ever see judgment on their faces.
I just see love.
Epilogue
24 Years, 0 Months, and 4 Days
“I think you missed a spot, love.”
I spin around to find a fully clothed Oliver Dudley, now second in line for the throne of England, stepping into the shower. “Wh-what are you doing?” I sputter, laughing as his hands find my waist. He pulls my naked, soapy body against him.
“Helping you shower,” he growls as his eyes take me in. All of me.
“I’ve never needed help before,” I tease, reaching up and wrapping my arms around his neck. Wanting. No, needing to be closer to him. Ollie’s lips crash against mine, and I moan. I reach down and start to pull off his stupid Manchester United jersey.
Ollie groans as he grabs onto my wrists, holding them in place. A slew of curse words that would make William Shakespeare turn in his grave issue from Ollie’s mouth. “I may not have been entirely honest about my reasons for coming in here.” I raise an eyebrow. “Now, I don’t want you to be angry. In fact, I want you to remember just how good that kiss felt when I tell you what I’m about to say.”
“Ollie,” I warn.
He pulls me against his body again. His lips find mine, and I’m about two seconds from agreeing to Ollie’s plan that we should convince the Prime Minster to invade America in hopes of replacing football with futbol when he pulls away again. “Remember how you agreed to join the family for the picture for our Christmas card? Yeah, well, that’s in about thirty minutes. There’s a car waiting outside.”
My mouth drops open as my eyes grow wide. “Oliver Dudley! You said that was next week!”
“I know, Ryans.”
“I don’t have anything to wear. All m
y clothes are still in boxes!”
“Remember how you once said you’ve loved me your whole life.”
“I still have shampoo in my hair!”
Ollie places his hands on my shoulders. “Well, darling, you have about five minutes to remedy that. The car leaves promptly at six.” He gives me a quick kiss on the forehead before jumping out of the shower.
I am going to kill him. I am going to murder the bloody prince!
“Your whole life! Remember, you’ve loved me for your whole life,” he yells from the living room of our flat.
Our flat. After spending more than a year apart, Ollie and I are finally together. Living together, in fact. The long distance royally sucked, but we survived it. He traveled the world, and I got my degree. Ollie’s work as a goodwill ambassador for the palace isn’t done, but he made a deal with the king that his charitable duties would keep him in England while I’m teaching physical education and coaching futbol at a local school. This summer, I’ll join him on his adventures. Together, we will represent the royal family and England.
After my tell-all interview, most of England supported our relationship. Supported me, really. I received lots of letters from other men and women who suffered from dyslexia, thanking me for being so frank about my journey. Some would never think I was good enough for a Dudley, but as long as Ollie thought I was, well, the rest could sod off.
I begrudgingly pull on my sweats and Liverpool jersey. The only thing I managed to unpack. It’s game day, after all. I walk out into the living room to find Ollie dressed in pressed khaki slacks and a tailored white shirt. I cross my arms and scowl. “Care to explain why I look like this and you look so…so…”
“Royal?” Ollie asks with a grin.
“I’m wearing a blasted Liverpool jersey and sweats, and you look like freaking Prince Charming!”
“My assistant made sure to place some extra clothes in the car in case I didn’t get to unpacking,” he replies sheepishly. “I told you to get an assistant.”
He did. Countless times. But there is something a bit weird about having an assistant when you spend every other day trying to figure out who keeps stealing your lunch from the fridge in the teacher’s longue. Now that I found my identity outside of the royal family, I’m not ready to give up my life as a commoner, and maybe I never will be. I’ll just have to figure out how to live in both worlds.
“Did I mention how lovely you look in that jersey?” Ollie asks, tucking a dripping wet strand of hair behind my ear.
“You hate this jersey,” I grumble.
“I really, really do,” he admits. “But that’s just how pretty you are. You make even this wretched, disgusting jersey look good.”
“You’re an idiot,” I reply, shaking my head. A stupid grin crawls across my face despite my best efforts to keep it at bay.
“Yes, but an idiot you love,” he sings, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “How long have you loved me, Ryans?”
“My whole life, Ollie. My whole life.”
“Oh, Aly! I see you’re wearing your best formal attire!” Aiden teases as Ollie and I walk into the sitting room.
“I didn’t know we were supposed to wear our wedding clothes for the Christmas picture,” Freddie pipes in, joining in on the joke.
“It’s your brother’s fault,” I counter.
“It usually is,” Ollie replies. “Lucky for me, I’m loved by such a forgiving, thoughtful, beautiful girl like Alexandra Ryans.”
“Yes, we’re all still trying to figure out how you managed to pull that off,” Sophie adds in.
“If you weren’t my favorite person in this room besides Ryans, I might just be offended,” Ollie says, faking outrage. He gives Sophie a quick kiss on the cheek for good measure. Ever since Aiden officially stepped down as the future king of England, Sophie and Freddie’s life has change dramatically, but if there were ever two people who could handle it, it’s them. There was something magical about them together, and I can’t wait to see what they do. All I knew for sure is that the world is going to be a much better place by the time their reign is done.
While most of England is still having a hard time accepting Aiden’s decision to abdicate, they adore Freddie and Sophie. If Aiden is bothered by the commoners’ disdain, he never shows it. In fact, I’ve never seen him happier.
“Alexandra Ryans! What in the world are you wearing?” Mrs. Wright exclaims as she enters the room followed by the king and the Queen Mother.
“Is something wrong with this?” I ask, feigning innocence.
“I think I have a nice little frock tucked away you can wear. I was saving it for the tea with the Empress…”
“I’m afraid we don’t have time, Mrs. Wright. Aiden has a plane to catch. He’s going to a two-week intensive art symposium at the Louvre,” the king replies proudly. “Now, if we could get ourselves lined up so the photographer can do his job.”
As we all move and shift into position, I lean over to Ollie. “You know we’re breaking all kinds of protocol here. I can’t think of any official holiday picture of the royal family that included someone not actually in the family.”
“I also can’t remember any official holiday picture that included a ravishing young lass wearing a futbol jersey and sweats,” he whispers back. “We’re rewriting all the rules, Ryans. Besides, I think that whole not being a part of the family thing might be changing soon. If you agree to it, that is.”
I look up at Ollie with my mouth hanging open. He couldn’t mean… Was he saying… It takes a few beats to find my voice. “Oliver Dudley, are you asking me to marry you?”
Before he can answer, a man dressed like Father Christmas himself busts through the door. “So sorry I’m late! I got caught up visiting the children at St. Mary’s.”
“Stan!” I beam before throwing my arms around Santa. It had taken some internet sleuthing, but I tracked down my airport Kris Kringle. After I explained to Ollie how he had stopped me from running, gave me the pep talk I needed to return home to England, he insisted we make Stan the official royal Santa Claus.
After everyone exchanges pleasantries and we all smile for the camera, I find myself standing next to Ollie as my family hugs and kisses each other good-bye. Aiden off to art school. Sophie and Freddie learning what it means to rule. Stan, a nice man I met in an airport bar who helped change my life, finding new adventures in England. It doesn’t matter that I’m wearing sweats and a Liverpool jersey. It doesn’t matter I’ll never master a proper curtsey.
This is what matters.
Ollie is right. We are rewriting the rules. We’re writing our own fairy tale. One where the fairy godmother is a man dressed like Santa in July. Whose kind words to a stranger did more than any magic wand could ever do. A fairy tale where the prince and commoner didn’t fall in love at a ball but fell for each other as best friends. A fairy tale where no one is perfect, but we are always perfect for each other.
I’ll take a modern fairy tale over those old ones any day.
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Acknowledgments
Foolishly, I thought that with each book, writing would become easier. That’s hardly the case. If I’m honest, there’s something a bit beautiful about that. With each story, I am challenged in new ways by the wonderful and ever-supportive Stacy Abrams, who has never given up on me as an author. I am consoled when I can’t catch the elusive plot bunnies by my amazing friends and family. I am fortified by hot fries, coffee, and whiskey. So, yeah, thanks to those things too. I am encouraged by the New Adult community, which continues to be some of the wackiest, most hilarious, kindest readers around. Mostly, I am inspired by the strong women around me (Erin, Jess, Cat, Diana, Shannon, Christina, Emily, and Amy) who show me all the wonderful things women can be.
About the Author
Tiffany Truitt lives with her Netflix and junk food
in Virginia. She is a graduate from Longwood University with a master’s in Literature from Old Dominion University. Previously she has worked in the realm of Young Adult literature having written The Lost Souls Series, Because You Exist, and The Language of Silence.
More new adult by Tiffany Truitt…
Seven Ways to Lose Your Heart
Young adult novels by Tiffany Truitt
the Lost Souls series
Chosen Ones
Naturals
Creators
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