by Imani King
Aidan sees Abby and me sitting at the table, and his eyes widen, but that’s the only sign of surprise he gives. He walks over to the table and gives Abby a nod. We lock eyes across the table. He gives a quick glance at Abby, then our parents asks all the questions I know are spinning in his head. I shrug my shoulders as covertly as I can manage and he shakes his head. Being brothers, growing up here, we have learned to communicate a lot with the smallest of looks and gestures.
“Aidan,” Father greets him as he starts to sip his wine.
Mother smiles at Aidan brightly—far more emotion than she’s shown to me or Abby. Abby deserves every bit as much respect and admiration as any guest at my parents’ table. Hell, she deserves more, she’s worked and worked hard for everything she’s gotten in life. None of it was handed to her by accident of birth. Gritting my teeth, I put my attention on my food. Rome wasn’t built in a day. I’ll take what I can get.
“Kian,” Father says, his voice sharp and cutting through my focus.
“Yes?” I ask without looking up.
“Are you not going to introduce your… friend?”
Anger flashes white hot, blinding my vision. My grip tightens on my spoon, and I look at my father with gritted teeth.
“She is not my ‘friend.’ She’s my wife,” I say doing my best not to let it be a growl. “And my brother already knows her. Or didn’t he tell you?”
Mother gasps. Abby puts a hand on my thigh, squeezing in an attempt to calm me down, but I’m done. I’ve had my fill of the formality. They can either accept the truth of the situation or not. They’re not going to change my mind.
“I simply don’t know how to take this seriously,” Mother says. She turns to Aidan. “And you—you didn’t fill us in on a single detail of this—whatever this is—”
“No,” I cut her off. “It’s time both of you come to terms with this. This is how it’s going to be.”
I stand up, placing both my fists on the table and meeting my father’s cold glare.
“Son,” he says.
“Father, I’m sorry, but no I’m not actually. All my life I’ve been a screw-up, a disappointment. I know this and so does everyone at this table. Hell, the entire country out there knows it!” I wave an arm around. “And you know what? I embraced it. I loved it. I didn’t care because I didn’t have a reason to care. None of this mattered to me. It’s all going to be Aidan’s anyway so what difference did it make what I did?”
“Kian,” Mother says, her eyes wide with shock.
“No Mother, it’s true. I’m man enough to own who and what I was. I know you both want me to marry into royalty, someone like Aidan’s betrothed or whatever she is. I’m not going to. I’m married to Abby, and you know what? For the first time in my entire life, I want to be a better man. For her. Because of her. She’s the reason I’m changing. Either everyone here accepts that, or if you can’t then I’ll leave the country, and you can disavow me.”
My arms shake, my breath comes in ragged gasps, I stare into my father’s eyes ready for his anger. I know he’s going to yell, he’s going to tell me I’m out of the family. It’s fine. I don’t need all of this. I have a degree and will make it on my own without them. I’ll throw every bit of this away for her. She’s worth it. She’s the one I want to spend my life with.
“Are you finished?” Father asks.
I’m still shaking, but now confusion spins me around. He’s not yelling, and I don’t know what to say to his response.
“Yes,” I say at last. “I think I am.”
“Good,” he says, looking at my mother. “Then we have something to say.”
Mother nods then a tight smile appears on her face. I sink into my seat unsure what’s about to happen. This is not what I expected at all. I had played through every possible scenario in my head before walking in here today, and this wasn’t one of them.
“Son,” Father says. “This situation is far from ideal. But your mother and I are glad you’ve decided to settle down. Abigail seems like a fine young woman, and there’s nothing illegal about what you’ve done. We won’t be disavowing you. That’s far beneath us.”
“We’ll be glad to see less of you in the news.,” Mother adds, attempting warmth in her voice. It doesn’t entirely work, but I appreciate the attempt.
“And it seems like Abigail is helping you grow up, finally,” Father says looking at Abby.
“If she is the one for you and you truly love her, then we will not stand in your way. You will have our blessing on your wedding,” Mother says. “There will of course be a wedding here in Sorenia. A real one. We’ll have a priest and a formal ceremony, like we’ve done in this country for generations.”
Stunned silence falls at her words. Aidan is staring at me with his mouth open. I look at Abby and there are tears in her eyes. I shake my head and then rap the table to make sure I’m not dreaming.
“You’re serious,” I say.
“Of course we are,” Mother says. “This young woman refused money for a divorce. And we’d rather not give the papers any more to speak about. If she wants to be with you, she can marry you properly.” It strikes me that my mother is upset about the impromptu vacation wedding, more than anything. She’s always been a fan of ceremony, the pomp and circumstance. But one thing bothers me—my whole life, I’ve been told I’d marry royalty. It was my responsibility.
I look between them. “But, duty and honor and…”
“Yes, all of that is important as well,” Father says. “Is there some reason you cannot fulfill your duties while being married to Abby?”
I shake my head, less in agreement and more because I’m still in shock.
“Congratulations Kian,” Aidan says sharply.
I turn to Abby taking her hands in mine. I rise from my chair and step clear of it then lower myself to one knee.
“Abby Palmer, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” I ask.
Her hand flies to her mouth, tears stream down her face, and she’s smiling broadly.
“Yes!” she exclaims.
I stand up, and she leaps into my arms. Our lips crush together with bruising force as I grip her tight around her waist and spin her in a circle. My Mother giggles and Aidan claps.
“I love you,” I say as I set her back on her feet.
“I love you Kian,” she says wiping at the tears. She turns and faces my parents. “Thank you!”
“Thank you,” my mother says. “I did fear my son would never grow up. So long as your brother marries a royal, I don't see why Abby can't be our princess.”
“I’ll do my best to do… whatever is required of me.”
“I’m sure you will my dear." My mother gives a pinched smile.
My heart pounds in my chest like a thundering herd of wild stallions. Excitement, joy, and more than anything my love for her. We’re going to be married, and this time it will be for real.
No one else notices, but Aidan stares at us with a grim expression on his face, arms crossed. I wish I could change everything for him, but his battles are his own to fight.
I vow then and there that I’ll be in his corner if he needs it. And I wonder, for a moment, what Eva might be up to this summer while Abby and I stay in Sorenia.
I make a note to myself that I’ll plant the notion in Abby’s head when we come back after her semester ends.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Six Months Later
Eva is the one with me when I zip up my wedding dress, when I twirl in the mirror, while I start to feel like the princess I actually am. She chats with me an talks me through my anxiety of walking out there, before the television crews and what feels like the entire world.
When she mentions Aidan—and when I push her on the subject—her eyes light up like I’ve never seen. She likes him. Maybe something even more.
Their story isn’t yet finished—it’s obvious to me. But I don’t keep talking about it. Instead, I let the subject drop. Outside, I hear the string quartet warming
up.
Eva takes my hands in hers, and we stare into each other's eyes. Tears form again, but I blink them away. I’ve never been happier in all my life.
“You got this,” Eva says, then carefully kisses me on the cheek.
“Thank you for being here,” I say.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
We take a deep breath together then she drops my hands and leads the way. A short maze of hallways later and I’m standing before the massive arch that leads into the great hall. I can see the crowds of people gathered inside. Flashes of cameras are already strobing. Soft music plays from the full orchestra set up to one side of the main dais. The king and queen sit on their thrones looking down where the priest waits. Then I see Kian, and it takes my breath away. He’s so stunningly handsome my heart stops beating, the flashes of camera freeze, and there is no one in the world but the two of us.
The music pauses then the first strains of the Bride’s March plays. The crowd rises to their feet, the camera flashes increase in speed, and I take my first step into my new life. The crowd, the cameras, the music, fade in my vision. I have eyes for Kian only as I walk down the aisle with a calm certainty that belies the raging storm of nerves inside. He is my rock. I would walk a million miles for him. This is nothing. There is only us.
The ceremony is long. I know it well because we’ve had to rehearse it dozens of times over the past week. It goes by slowly until at last the priest turns us to face the country, my country now, and they accept us as a couple. The crowd cheers and hats are thrown into the air. We’re pelted from all sides with bits of rice as we walk down the aisle.
Kian leads us to the reception hall that has been setup. We walk a line of dignitaries most of whom I’ve only heard of in news reports. They congratulate us and we shake more hands than I could ever remember. In the reception hall is another band and a dance floor is prepared. The crowd forms along the walls. Tradition demands that we have or first dance and that it has to be a waltz.
We’ve practiced, a lot. This is the part I’ve been dreading the most. I can groove with the best of them but this dance is so formal. We take our place in the middle of the floor. He takes my hand and raises it up placing his right hand on my hip. We lock eyes and he smiles.
“Worst we can do is screw it up, right?” he grins, and I can’t stop my laugh.
He’s so right. We’ve screwed it up in every single practice run. The music starts, and I step off with my left foot which is wrong. He steps on my foot, and we stumble. The crowd gasps but we regain our footing and make the next several moves smoothly. He raises my arm and twists. I spin, but the moment I do I realize I’m going the wrong direction. I spin out of the grip of his hand and away instead of in towards him. I stumble, trip and just as I’m about to fall Kian is there to catch me.
The crowd laughs then breaks out in applause. They’re probably all experts in this dance, and I’m sure they know we’re screwing it all up, but they don’t seem to care. At last the dance ends, and we’re allowed to walk off the floor while other couples step out to show how it’s supposed to be done.
We head to the refreshment table. More people come and offer their congratulations. We meet and greet for hours. The opening of presents is another affair that I let Kian set the pace for because there are so many details to exactly how to do it I know I’ll mess up something.
In the wee hours of the morning we’re escorted by the raucous remains of the crowd to our suite of rooms in the castle. There are many bawdy calls and lewd suggestions made. When we reach the stairs up the crowd grabs both of us lifting us into the air and carries us the rest of the way.
Finally, we’re alone. Kian takes me in his arms, and we kiss. Long, slow kisses that re-energize our exhausted bodies. We walk hand in hand to the bedroom where he helps me with my dress.
The time is now—I can tell him what I’ve been thinking for months.
“I think we ought to get pregnant,” I say. “We should start trying. We wouldn’t be the first graduate students to do it—and we won’t be the last.”
“What?” he asks, stopping his work on my dress and stepping around so we’re eye to eye.
I smile tentatively hoping he thinks it’s a good thing. “Yeah.”
“You’re, you’re serious?”
“Yes,” I answer.
He kisses me with so much passion and squeezes me so tight I’m about to pass out. He sets me on my feet laughing.
“You’re happy?” I ask.
“Yes, you make me the happiest man alive. And we’ll be even happier when we build a family together.”
“I love you,” I say, my emotions welling up and exploding out.
“I love you Abby, my wife, and my beautiful mother to be.”
“Hopefully,” I say.”Time will tell.”
We fall into the bed, losing our clothes as fast as we possibly can, ready to begin our new lives together.
A Preview of Aidan: Dirty Royals
******
I felt the tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I took in the lovely vision of my best friend, Abby, standing in front of me. She, in turn, was standing in front of the mirror swishing the hem of her wedding gown back and forth like a bell.
“Oh, Abby, you look so…royal,” I managed as I dabbed my eyes with a tissue. Luckily, my bridesmaid dress had secret pockets, and I had a stash of tissues inside. I cried like a blubbering baby at weddings, and that was for people I didn’t know half as well as I knew Abby.
Abby continued to swish in front of the mirror with a look of wonderment on her face, and she met my eyes in the reflection. She grinned. It didn’t take a psychic to know what she was thinking. How many little girls dreamt about someday marrying a prince? A lot. How many of those girls grew up and actually got to do it? Abby was a rare exception.
She turned to me and held out her hands. “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Eva. You’ve always been the sister I never had.”
I took her hands and pulled her into a tight bear hug. Abby’s parents had her and her sisters later in life, and given that protocol required the ceremony to take place in the royal family’s cathedral on the palace grounds, her parents had been unable to make the transatlantic flight to be there. While the staff had graciously arranged for a live feed of the ceremony for them, it still wasn’t the same as having her parents there in person.
“Focus on the big picture. This is the day you’ve been waiting for your whole life. Kian is the luckiest bastard on the planet to have landed you,” I said, trying to distract Abby’s thoughts. I didn’t want her to start crying and ruin her elaborate make-up that I knew was mostly for the video cameras and pictures that would follow.
“Yes, he is,” she said in a resolute voice as we pulled apart. Then we both started to laugh. As far as luck went, Abby had hit the proverbial jackpot of love. We both knew it, and I even envied it a little bit, although I’d never admit it out loud.
Abby turned back to fuss with the skirt of her dress, and I moved to the other side of the room to gather up her bouquet and make sure we weren’t missing any other details. The ceremony was due to start in five minutes, and I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach.
I could pretend to chalk those feelings up to the fact that there were several TV crews outside and what felt like half the country of Sorenia packed into the church waiting with bated breath to see their prince marry the American. But if I was honest with myself, I knew that wasn’t entirely the cause of my anxiety.
Everything came back to the other prince in the picture, His Royal Highness, Aidan Ilves. Also known as Kian’s older brother, who was today playing the part of the Best Man, the counter to my Maid of Honor. He was hot as fuck, charming as hell, and a menace to womankind everywhere. I had firsthand experience on that front.
We’d had a brief, tumultuous fling six months ago during a girls’ trip that Abby and I had taken to Gibraltar. She met Kian, fell in love, and got engaged within weeks. Aidan an
d I had screwed each other’s brains out for five unforgettable nights, and then I dumped him without a backward glance.
I wiped my brow with the tissue. Had someone turned up the heat in the room?
“So have you talked to him yet?” Abby’s voice caught my attention and pulled me out of my stupor.
“Who?” I asked as I handed her the bouquet, which was practically bigger than my head. For such a small country, Sorenia seemed to overcompensate by going big with everything else I had seen so far.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “You know who.”
“Would your new in-laws approve of that mouth?” I said mockingly. It was a slightly low blow. Kian’s parents had warmed to Abby ever since the whirlwind announcement of their engagement. Warmed in so much as a glacier’s surface thawed during a particularly warm afternoon.
“Quit trying to distract me,” Abby warned. “How many times has he texted you now?”
I hated that I had told her about the text messages at all. Ever since my arrival in Sorenia the day before, my phone had been abuzz with messages of the sultry variety. I had changed my phone number after our Gibraltar trip, but I figured someone with Aidan’s kinds of connections could have found it easily enough. Couldn’t the guy take a hint?
“It doesn’t matter. He’s the heir to the throne and probably figured I’d be an easy lay this weekend. Been there, done that, over it.” I sniffed as I pretended to straighten her dress’s train, which could have easily required an attendant of its own.
“You like him,” Abby said with a sly smile.
“I don’t,” I repeated for what felt like the millionth time. “It was fun while it lasted, but there was never anything practical or real beyond that with His Royal Hotness except for our time between the sheets.”
