by Debbie Mason
Enough pitter-pattering about. It was time to just say it.
“I’m so happy for her,” Chelsea said, her smile genuine. “She was always nice to me.”
The tension that had been building in Grace’s shoulders went away, and she laughed. “She was nice to everyone.”
“Agreed.” Chelsea pursed her lips. “What’s up, Grace? What do I need to know about your fiancé? Whatever it is, I’ve got it covered—unless he’s an asshole. If he is, you can do better.”
“No, he’s not an asshole,” she said, laughing a little, like Chelsea had probably wanted. “I was thinking about how to word this correctly, but I think it’s best if I just say it. My fiancé isn’t American. He’s…well, he’s a prince, actually. Prince Phillip Michael Marcus Randall the Third, of Talius. And once we’re married, I’ll be a princess.”
Chapter 1
I’ll be honest. It took me a second to recover from that one. It explained the two people standing on our porch, in suits and sunglasses, whom she’d introduced as her “friends” Michelle and Joseph. They were clearly her guards. Ten million things ran through my mind at the same time. How the hell did a girl from the tiny town of Hudson, Maine land a prince? Where did they meet?
And why the hell were they getting married here, in Maine, if he was a prince? Shouldn’t their wedding take place in a castle, or an ancestral church of some sort? Crap, I didn’t know where royal weddings took place.
But they didn’t happen here.
In Hudson.
“I…uh…I see. Let me just…jot that down.” Clearing my throat, I wrote down “prince” in all capital letters, with five exclamation points, and doodled a crown next to it. “I hope you don’t mind my asking…but why do you want to have a wedding here, in America? I mean, shouldn’t the royal wedding take place in, you know, Talius?”
Somewhere a heck of a lot more exciting than here.
“Traditionally speaking? Yes, it should.” Grace laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “But you see, we’re not exactly traditional. Most princes don’t meet the American girls who are working at a charity gala, let alone marry them. We’ve already veered from the societal norm.”
I stared at her. Though she said that with a smile, she held her lips tightly in place. I might not be as good at small talk as Jeremy, but I could read people. “I’m guessing there are people who aren’t too happy about that?”
“Conservatives, yes. When news broke about our relationship, the press was all over it. They never leave us alone over there, but here…”
“No one even knows where Talius is,” I finished for her. “Let alone that it’s a country.”
“Exactly.” Grace smiled and smoothed her fashionable black-and-white designer dress over her thighs. Her long blond hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, and she looked slightly out of place sitting on the cozy brown couch. Her skin was faintly tanned, and she wore a thick white headband that should have looked ridiculous on a full-grown woman, but I secretly wanted to try it on. “Talius is such a tiny country, tucked away near France, that it’s hard to find it on a map. Phillip’s father tries to keep its politics as private as possible, since he likes to think of it as the secret jewel of Eastern Europe. Phillip has promised to do the same when he takes over.”
“Is that going to be soon?” I asked.
“Yes, actually. His father is going to step down to enjoy some down time in his country, and then Phillip will be a king…” She stopped for a second, and let out a nervous laugh. “Me. Married to a king. It’s crazy, right?”
She wants to talk about crazy?
How about a future princess who wanted to have his wedding at my inn?
I mean, it’s not like our little inn wasn’t incredible. It was. Ever since Jeremy and I had pulled off the wedding of the century, which happened to be our own, business was booming at the McCullagh Inn. We were nearly full most weekends, and we’d hosted a handful of other weddings.
To be honest, I’d found my niche in planning, with a side of flowers and turtledoves. In the back of my mind, I could hear my father’s voice from my childhood: If you have something to love, you have something to lose. But I wasn’t afraid to love anymore. I had Jeremy and the inn, and they both made me happy. I refused to be ashamed about that. Happiness isn’t a weakness. It takes strength to let someone in like that. Jeremy makes me stronger.
It didn’t mean I was blind to the ugly things in life, though.
Dad hadn’t raised me to be a fool.
“So you want to have the wedding here to avoid the press over there,” I said.
Hence Grace’s double mention of the word private.
I hadn’t missed that one.
“Phillip’s political opposition and the press, yes.” Grace took a sip of coffee. Her lipstick was still flawless, and there were no pink lip marks on the rim of the white mug. Just as you’d expect from a future princess. “As I said, complete privacy is a must. Absolutely no one outside the wedding planning circle can know about it…especially your father. No offense.”
“None taken,” I assured her with a smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t know.”
Dad was in Florida, out on parole, with orders not to leave the state. It was better this way. We’d come a long way, he and I, but I still didn’t trust him.
Especially not with something this juicy.
About the Author
JEN McLAUGHLIN is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling romance author. She was mentioned in Forbes alongside E. L. James as one of the breakout independent authors to dominate the bestseller lists. She is represented by Louise Fury at the Bent Agency. She loves hearing from her fans, and you can visit her on the web at JenMcLaughlin.com.
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