Lucky Prince_A Fake Fiance, Real Royal Wedding Romance

by Eva Luxe

  As I get to the door and fiddle with the locks and keys to get it open — push away the damn screen door that keeps getting in my face — I try another set of questions, ones I really want answers to. “What are you doing out here at this time a year dressed like that?”

  The woman tromps up the stairs, the thin features on her face looking beautiful for a moment— until the stress she must be feeling darkens them again, and I feel like I’m watching watercolors run. I can’t help but notice her attractive, curvy figure, well-proportioned even under those sweatpants and T-shirt. Her body looks good despite all that fabric, with all those holes and frayed edges.

  I get the front door open, images of her sitting on the cliff flashing through my mind. Her blonde hair is whipping about her face in a similar manner, like she’s still on that cliff ready to jump.

  “What are you doing so close to the edge like that? You want to tell me that?” I hadn’t meant to come across combative, but her frail appearance brings it out of me. I can see from the countenance peeking out from under her stressed face that she used to be vivacious and maybe even in love with life, with herself and her body. But as it is underneath her clothes now, it looks like she’s just trying to get away from a shell. Or turn herself into one, if I had let her jump.

  Briefly, I imagine myself giving her a check-up— running my hands up and down her body so I can just see the ghost of her through her clothing. Feeling her ribs. Her belly. Her breasts. Telling her what she needs to eat. How much. When. To bring back her spirt and give her life again.

  As she comes up to where I am on the porch, I imagine what it would be like to feed her— to make myself into her dinner table, where she can eat and drink real food. A proper meal, whatever she wants or needs. Anything to make her full and happy again.

  I hate myself for thinking in such a way. For fantasizing about her, when she is obviously in such a distressed state.

  Although I used to have my share of women, it’s been a long time since I’ve been with one. I have bigger priorities now, which include peace and quiet. Still, I can’t help but think she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen—and it’s not just because they’re so scarce around here these days. I have got to stop fantasizing about her because it’s making me feel guilty.

  I mean it about the food, though. The woman comes to stand next to me, finally answering my question to her. My last one, as if it’s a radio signal out in space, and it’s just reached her receiver. “I wasn’t gonna jump. I wasn’t gonna do myself in, if that’s what you think.”

  With that, she walks inside, and I follow after her, happy to let the screen door clack shut on us.

  “I wasn’t gonna do it,” she says again, but I have to wonder if it’s for herself more than for me.

  As I watch her walk ahead of me, I get another look at her body. Her back and ass, which looks plump and curvy, just my style, especially in all that blown-out fabric. Then I tell myself to let those thoughts go and think about priorities.

  She’s gonna eat something. She may not be a ghost now, but I’m not gonna let her turn into one between now and tomorrow morning.

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  I saved her life… then we created a new one.

  I see a beautiful stranger on the edge of a cliff.

  I keep her from jumping. Or at least I think I do.

  She won’t tell me what she was doing up there, or anything else.

  Except that she wants me to f*ck her pain away.

  She’s so gorgeous that I have to oblige.

  As we grow closer, it’s clear she’s keeping another secret from me.

  I think she’s having my baby.

  And I’m determined to claim what’s mine.

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