by Renna Peak
I stride up the steps and open the door. Inside, the place is just as I remember—the main room looks more like the common area of a dormitory than the lobby of a more legitimate hotel. As usual, there’s no one behind the counter, so I reach over and tap the bell.
“Coming, dude!” comes a familiar voice from the back room, followed by a short fit of coughing.
I grin and lean my elbows on the counter, waiting for my soon-to-be brother-in-law. A moment later, the door to the back room opens, and Owen stumbles out in a cloud of pungent smoke.
“How can I help you, man?” he says before coughing again. And then he looks up, his bloodshot eyes taking me in fully for the first time, and his face splits into a large smile. “Dude! Long time no see!”
He reaches across the counter and claps me on the shoulder, and I return his grin.
“Good to see you, too, Owen,” I say.
“How’s Elle? She here with you?” He glances past me, his eyes falling on Matthias, and his face lights up again. “Dude! It’s been a long time since you were at our happy hour.”
Matthias clears his throat, fighting back a smile. “Yes, well, I’ve had some responsibilities to fulfill.”
“And to answer your question,” I say to Owen, “Elle is doing great. Both she and the baby are fine.” For now, at least. How long until she exhausts herself trying to do everything? “But you can ask her yourself. She’s still in Montovia, but that’s exactly why I’m here.” I straighten. “Has word reached you yet about the wedding?”
“Yeah, man. Chicks can’t get enough of that shit. They love weddings. Hold on.” He shuffles over to a table sitting by the bar on the far side of the room and grabs a wrinkled, tattered magazine. It’s an American tabloid, and the huge headline reads, “ROYAL WEDDING: All the juicy details about Prince Andrew’s upcoming nuptials!”
“Your brother should get married more often,” Owen says, shoving the magazine into my hands. “Weddings always get chicks hot. It’s been a good couple of months.” His grin widens.
“I’ll tell him,” I say. “But Owen, this magazine is a few weeks old. I’m not talking about my brother. I’m talking about Elle and me.”
“You’re finally getting married too, man? Awesome! I’ll have to beat ‘em off with a stick when I tell ‘em I’m officially related to a prince.”
“Just imagine what they’ll do when you show them pictures of yourself at the wedding,” I say. “That’s why I’m here, Owen. To bring you back for the wedding—Elle and I have decided to get married at the same time as Andrew and Victoria. It’s going to be a double ceremony.” I pull an invitation out of my pocket and hand it to him. “You are officially invited, Mr. Owen Parker, to the wedding event of the century.”
“Whoa, dude.”
‘Whoa’ is right. This will keep him in women for the rest of his life, if he plays it right. But Owen’s romantic life isn’t my priority right now.
“Here’s the thing,” I say. “The wedding’s next week. We sent you an invitation, but I wasn’t sure if it would arrive in time.”
“Definitely haven’t gotten an invitation,” Owen says with a shrug and a shake of his head. “I only get mail like once or twice a month, man.”
“Which is why I’m here,” I say, spreading my arms. “To tell you and to escort you personally back to Montovia for the wedding. I know it’s short notice, but I know it will mean the world to Elle if you’re there.” It’s the least I could do for her. Nothing will beat bringing her only living relative overseas for her. “And I know you want to meet your nephew, too.”
Owen looks even more touched by this than I imagined he could—I’d swear there were tears in his eyes if I didn’t know any better.
“I’d love to go, man. I just need to find someone to run La Playa for a few days.”
Shit, I didn’t even think of that. If I’d planned ahead a little better, I could have brought someone with me to—
“Willow!” Owen shouts suddenly, so loudly that both Matthias and I jump. “Willow!”
A moment later, there are footsteps above, then a young woman comes bounding down the stairs, her bare feet slapping against the wooden steps. When she reaches the bottom, she flicks her waist-length braid over her shoulder.
“Need something?” she says pleasantly, speaking to Owen but eyeing Matthias and me with some curiosity.
“Can you watch La Playa for a few days so I can go to my sister’s wedding?” Owen says, jerking a thumb in my direction. “She’s marrying this guy. He’s a prince.”
“Oh my God,” she says, her eyes widening as she takes a closer look at me. “I thought I recognized you! You’re Prince—oh my God.” She looks back at Owen. “Your sister’s marrying him? You’re going to the wedding?”
Owen winks at me before turning back to Willow. “Yeah, dude. Cool, huh?”
“Okay, I’ll watch this place for you,” she says. “As long as you promise to give me all of the details when you get back.”
“Of course, man. All the details.” He turns back to me. “Guess that settles it, then. When we leaving, dude?”
“I… As soon as you’d like,” I say, still a little stunned by what I just witnessed. Why can’t all of my problems be solved that easily?
“Great, man. I’ll go get my stuff.”
“Uh, make sure not to pack any of your…uh, stash,” I say. “I’d rather not have you arrested.”
Owen laughs. “ ‘Kay, man.”
As he disappears, Matthias leans down toward me, speaking quietly in my ear. “Do you think he owns a suit? Or should I set up an appointment with the tailors when we return?”
“That would probably be best.” Honestly, though, it doesn’t matter what Owen wears—just his being there will be the perfect wedding gift for Elle.
And I’ll no longer feel like a useless fool. This alone isn’t enough, but it’s a start. If I can’t help with the wedding or with our son… well, I’ll just have to keep coming up with other things to do. Over and over and over again. Until I, too, have no choice but to succumb to exhaustion.
I sigh. Deep down, I know that none of this will ever feel like enough. Right now, though, it’s all I can do.
Elle
What did I do before Matthew was born? I barely recognize myself anymore, and I’m having trouble remembering who it is I used to be before the baby came. I used to do things, didn’t I?
I somehow managed to get past the near panic attack I had when I gave Matthew to Leo’s mother this morning. She’s been hinting at wanting to babysit for weeks, but I never felt like I could leave him long enough to let her take him for even an hour.
But here I am, showered and dressed—almost presentable—for the first time since his birth, and I have nothing to do.
I walk over to the window in our sitting room and sit on the ledge, staring outside. The snow is falling much harder than I’ve ever seen it. I’ve only seen snow a few times in my life, and I’d love to go outside and do something—build a snowman, maybe.
I smile at the thought of being able to do that with my son, maybe even next year. It’s hard to believe that he’ll be crawling in a few months, talking and walking a few months after that. He’s so small now—so helpless. Most of the time, it feels like it’s always going to be like it is now, like I’m tied to him for all eternity.
But part of me knows it will be over all too quickly, and I should enjoy this time while it lasts. It’s just hard to remember that at two o’clock in the morning when I can’t get him to stop crying.
And the last few nights have been particularly difficult. I know Leo thinks he doesn’t contribute, but he has no idea how much I need him. How much Matthew needs him. Those times in the middle of the night when he holds the baby—those are the only times he stops crying. Sure, sometimes Matthew needs a feeding, but I think they both secretly enjoy having those few precious father-son moments.
My chest aches at the thought. Leo isn’t here. He hasn’t been here in se
veral days, and there’s been no word from him. Not even a phone call. There’s a small, ugly part of me that still thinks he needed to go have one last supermodel before he ties himself to me forever. But a much bigger part of me knows he would never do that. A year ago, he might have thought that way. But something changed—in both of us—and I don’t think he’ll ever be the bad boy prince he once was.
I hope he won’t, anyway.
That small voice inside of me grows louder each day that Leo isn’t here. And I can’t help but think of what a waste this is. It hasn’t been quite a month since Matthew was born, and Leo has been more than patient with me. He’s given me looks, of course, but he hasn’t pressured me in the slightest.
I’ll admit I’m still not quite in the mood for intimacy, but it would be so nice to reconnect with him. To remind myself that there’s more to my life than just being a milk machine.
There’s a soft rapping at my door before the maid comes in. She spots me by the window, and her eyes go a little wide with surprise.
“My lady.” She gives me a shallow curtsy.
“Good morning, Lydia.” It’s still so strange to hear anyone call me ‘my lady.’ I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it—though I guess it’s going to be short lived. I’ll have an actual title next week—and I’m positive I’ll never get used to that.
I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs. “How are you?”
“Very well, my lady.” She glances around the room. “Where is Master Matthew?”
“The queen has taken him for the morning.” There’s a pang in my chest at the words. “Just for a few hours.”
“Ah.” She smiles. “Very good, my lady. Oh, I’m to tell you there is news.”
“News?”
“Yes, my lady. Of His Highness, Prince Leopold.” She glances out the window. “He is delayed because of the weather.”
“Oh.” I look back out the window myself. It’s hard to tell how much snow is actually on the ground from up here, but the air is almost pure white with large, fluffy flakes. “Do you know for how long?”
“It’s difficult to say, my lady. The palace airstrip is closed, of course. But the snow is coming down faster than they can clear it at the airport in the city. The trains have also stopped running for the time being.”
“Is that normal?” I turn to her. “I mean, does this happen every year?”
She shakes her head. “Oh no, my lady. The last time it snowed like this was over a decade ago. And it’s very unusual for this late in the winter.”
“I guess that’s just my luck.” I look back out the window. “Did you hear anything else? From Leo?”
“No, my lady. I’m told His Highness, Prince Andrew spoke with him last night. I believe he and his party are in Spain at the moment. The rest of the continent is suffering the same storm.”
“Right. Of course.” His party. I don’t even want to think about what that might mean.
“Is there anything you need, my lady?”
I shake my head, still staring out the window. “No, I’m fine for now. Thank you, Lydia.”
“Very well, my lady. Ring if you need me.”
I nod, still looking toward the window, and a moment later I hear the door click closed. As soon as I’m sure she’s gone, I go over to the phone and dial Leo’s number.
We’ve had something of an unspoken agreement since we’ve been together. He calls me when he’s away if he’s able, but I don’t call him. I’m not sure how we came to this at all, but I’ve always thought he’d think I was too clingy if I was the one calling to check on him.
Honestly, Leo hasn’t given me any reason to think he’s being unfaithful. He has his prior reputation, but I have no doubt—deep down, anyway—that he’s a changed man. It’s just that little, albeit loud, voice inside me that reminds me of who he used to be.
He picks up after the fourth ring, but I can barely hear him answer over the loud thump of music in the background.
“Leo?”
“Elle?” He yells. “Is everything all right? Is it Matthew?”
My shoulders sag. Maybe we shouldn’t have had this unspoken agreement where I never call him. “No, he’s fine. I…I let your mother take him for the morning.”
“You what?” He’s almost screaming into the phone. “You took my mother where?”
“No, not your mother…” I groan before I raise my voice to match his. “She’s babysitting.”
“What? Shitting? I can’t hear you, Elle.”
“Never mind.” He’s clearly in a club—even though it’s barely the afternoon. I should have known. I should have known better, anyway…
“Elle, we’re stuck in Barcelona. The flights to anywhere even close to Montovia are all grounded.”
“As long as you’re here for the wedding…”
“As long as I’m what? Elle, we must have a bad connection.” He’s still yelling into the phone. “I can barely hear you.”
My heart twists in my chest when I hear a woman’s voice, though I can’t make out what she’s saying. But I hear Leo laugh…and it’s a laugh I’ve heard before. His flirtatious, sultry, come-fuck-me laugh. And that’s all I need to hear.
Tears fill my eyes as I hang up the phone without another word. I need to go get my son.
And I need to get the fuck out of Montovia.
Andrew
Victoria is hiding something from me, and God help me, I’ll do whatever it takes to figure out what.
When I walked in on her and William talking two days ago, she tried to brush off what I’d overheard, telling me only that it had to do with my wedding present. And she’s made a habit of avoiding me in the couple of days since.
I rub the side of my face. Less than a week until the wedding and Victoria is keeping secrets from me. If she doesn’t trust me now, then what happens after we’re married?
I glance out the window. The snows have been heavy the last couple of days, and the weather reports aren’t looking good for the actual wedding day, either. Some reports suggest that the worst of the snow should pass by the big day, but that will still cause us plenty of trouble—many of our guests are going to have a hard time getting here if this weather continues. And the last thing I want is for our citizens to freeze to death outside the cathedral while they wait for us to emerge. When we originally chose the date, we hadn’t even considered the possibility of a blizzard—Montovia hasn’t seen weather like this in almost two decades. A February wedding seemed like a lovely idea—a beautiful frosty fantasy, and the perfect way to kick off a new year. And considering the tensions we’ve had with Rosvalia recently, the event couldn’t come any sooner—we wanted something that would boost the morale of our citizens.
Should we just postpone it? Wait until the snow has passed completely and Victoria has decided she can trust me again? I don’t want to wait a day longer than I must to marry the woman I love. Or waste months of hard work and resources. And in the aftermath of Rosvalia’s attack on the mines in the Amhurst Valley, I don’t want our people to have to go a moment longer worrying about the fate of our small but proud nation—I want them to see that we’re happy and united and that we’re looking toward the future.
When people told me weddings were stressful, I had no idea how serious they were.
A knock at the door startles me out of my thoughts.
“Come in,” I say, hoping Victoria has finally come to her senses and decided to be open with me.
When the door opens, though, I see only one of the servants.
“Your Highness,” he says, bowing. “I’ve been asked to come inform you that His Highness Prince Leopold will be returning to Montovia later than expected. He’ll be staying in Barcelona until the weather permits him to continue on.”
What else could go wrong? I think, inwardly groaning.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I say. “Please keep me updated.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” he says, bowing again before sl
ipping back out of the room.
So now we’re missing a groom, too. There’s really no excuse for not postponing the wedding now, is there? It would obviously be easier for everyone involved.
Just thinking of it makes the bottom fall out of my stomach. But what other choice do we have? These are not the circumstances under which I thought I’d be getting married. This wedding should be a joyous, happy event—not something that tears all of us apart.
Seeing no other option, I decide to go discuss the matter with my mother and see what can be done to salvage what resources we’ve already acquired. I don’t want anything to go to waste, if possible.
Right when I reach the door, though, another knock sounds against the wood. This time, I find Victoria there.
“Hey,” she says softly, looking up at me.
“Victoria.” I’m sure she doesn’t miss the longing in my voice. God, I wish all of this was over so we could go back to the way things were.
“I thought we might talk,” she says. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” I say, making room for her. “But I was just on my way out—I need to speak with my mother about the wedding.”
“About what?”
“About our options for postponing it, given the circumstances.”
Her eyes go wide. “Postponing it? Why?”
“You’ve looked outside, haven’t you?” I say, gesturing toward the window. “There’s no guarantee the blizzard will have blown over by the day of the wedding. And now Leopold is stranded in Barcelona until the snow lets up.” I meet her gaze. “And not only that, but I want to make sure we’re in a good place when we do this, Victoria—you and I. You can’t deny that there’s been some tension and distance between us recently. I don’t want it to be like that when we marry—I want us both to be overjoyed beyond our wildest dreams to promise ourselves to each other.”
