by Dee Lagasse
“I’m not a prince, Sutton—”
“But you could be.”
Like a heavy cloud has sucked up all the animosity in the room and floated away, suddenly the room feels lighter. The suffocating tension between us dissipates like it never existed in the first place.
“Oh, I’m going to need you to explain yourself,” he smirks, locking eyes with me.
Like a moment of grand epiphany, it hits me. The only way for Bodie to gain a title, to become a prince, is to marry me.
I just casually suggested we get married. Bloody hell.
A burning sensation covers my cheeks as he stares back at me, waiting for my explanation.
“I, I just meant it’s possible,” I stutter, tripping over my words as he continues to stand there with his arms crossed, not saying anything. “Someday. Eventually. I wasn’t suggesting we get married right now. Not that I wouldn’t marry you. It’s just too soon. Right? Good God, Bodie. Say something.”
In a perfect full circle moment, he erupts in laughter.
“Oh, I didn’t want to interrupt you,” he chuckles. “So you want to marry me, Sutton? Is that what you’re saying?”
What I want is to change the subject, move on to something else. Anything else.
“There’s protocol,” I sidestep the question. “We haven’t even been together a year, Bodie. And after the last twenty-four hours? I think we need to focus on right now.”
“Right now?” he repeats with a wicked smile.
“Well yeah, last I checked you were giving me a day to ‘fix’ things,” I start, frustrated with the flip-flop of his emotions.
If things are okay with us, that’s good. That’s great. But that doesn’t change the fact we need to talk about it. Brushing something like this under the rug won’t help us.
“Well, I was just informed that in modern-day fairy tales, it’s okay for the princess to save the day,” he chuckles.
“Damn it, Bodie,” I curse. “Will you be serious for two seconds?”
Sighing, he takes my hands in his. Pressing my tongue to the side of my cheek as a form of stopping myself from saying anything else, I look at him expectantly. I’m not sure what I’m waiting for, a miracle maybe, but I didn’t come all this way for him to just crack jokes and think everything will be fine.
“I was serious every second from the time we hung up the phone until you walked in my house, Sutton,” he begins, exhaling. “I sat in my room, locked away, trying to accept that today I was going to have to deal with the fact that we were over. It wasn’t about me, or you, or us. I’m one man, Sutton. I’m one man and I couldn’t keep you safe. I couldn’t keep my family safe. The whole world was stacked against us and I had no way to fight back.”
Brushing a chunk of hair out of my face, he leans down, pressing his forehead to mine. “So I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m trying to forget about the worst twenty-four hours of my life. But I’m not sorry for wanting to joke with you and for trying to fast track things back to normal. Whatever normal means for us. I assumed because you are here, we’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay, right?”
“You tell me,” I shrug, smiling, already knowing the answer. “You’re the one that—”
Before I can finish my sentence, his lips crash on mine. The urgency as his tongue sweeps mine makes my knees buckle, and I grab onto his shirt to steady myself.
“I already know my favorite part about this fight,” I say as he walks me backward guiding me to the back of the house.
“Oh yeah?” he smirks. “What’s that?”
“After we’re done making up,” I start. “You’re going to make me chocolate chip cookies.”
“Oh, am I?” he laughs, pulling my sweater over my head, dropping it on the floor as we enter his bedroom.
“Mhm,” I mutter. “Need…Cambridge…Cookies.”
“I’ll make them for you for breakfast,” he laughs. “We have a lot to make up for.”
Chapter 17
Bodie
Six Months Later
A tiny ping of guilt hits me when the plane touches down in Abington, knowing that Sutton would only be about five minutes from me and not five thousand miles and an entire ocean away like she thought I was.
For two weeks, I’ve known this day was coming and I waited until very early this morning to text her and tell her that I would miss our nightly FaceTime because I had a meeting. I mean, technically, I didn’t lie.
As far as she knew, I wouldn’t be coming until tomorrow. I planned on going right to Pearce Cottage under the guise that I was able to get an earlier flight and wanted to surprise her, but she needed to think I was busy. Not doing what I’m about to do.
I’d done my research. After hours and hours of studying and having Luke arrange a very secretive phone call to Charles, the Queen’s private secretary, he confirmed what I already knew. So I scheduled the meeting and booked my flights.
Just as I had been instructed, there was a black Bentley waiting at the gate to pick me up.
“Mr. Cambridge,” the older gentleman nods in acknowledgment, opening the back door for me.
His snow-white hair peeks out from the black wool cap on his head. It feels like it’s close to eighty degrees outside and he’s dressed in a full suit, making me feel undressed myself. I had toyed with the idea of wearing a suit, but opted for a pair of light khaki chinos, a white pinpoint Oxford shirt, and a tan pair of loafers instead.
“Yes sir,” I confirm, even though he already knew.
“Name’s Samuel,” he starts as he climbs into the driver’s seat. “I’ve been driving Her Majesty Queen Jane for fifty years now and she’s never personally asked me to pick up someone from the airport. Good luck, son.”
Offering me a smile before turning his attention to the road ahead of us, we pull out of the airport. There isn’t another word said during the duration of the trip to Briallen Palace, the Queen’s residence. On the outside, I may look calm, cool, and collected, but internally, I’m freaking the fuck out.
I can honestly say that I’ve never been so scared to do anything in my entire life. Which, if things go well, I’ll probably be saying tonight, if this “meeting” goes well. At this point, there’s no hiding the tapping of my palms against my thighs.
Pulling up to the gates, the flag on the front of the car gives us immediate access. Instead of pulling around to the side lot like I have every single time I’ve been here with Sutton, Samuel pulls around the back of the grounds.
“Due to the discretion of this trip, Her Majesty felt that having you come in via the back entrance would provide you the most privacy, sir,” Samuel explains, stopping the car.
Letting myself out, I nod in his direction, afraid that if I open my mouth to speak, the nerves I feel will splatter out of my mouth and onto the pavement below. It’s only a second or two before Luke greets me right outside the door.
“Hey, mate. Figured you could use a proper escort,” he chuckles as we walk down a long hallway full of artifacts and paintings that probably belong in a museum. “Just so you know, this has been the hardest secret I’ve ever kept in my life. Clem knows I’m hiding something, so it’ll be nice to just have it out there.”
“I appreciate you being here,” I tell him, shaking his hand as we stand outside two double doors lined with gold filigree. “And for keeping this a secret. Wish me luck.”
“Luck? Nah,” he smiles. “You don’t need any, ah, that. Just be you. Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I chuckle.
“Good afternoon, Your Majesties,” Luke starts, his voice commanding the attention of the four people in the room in front of us. “May I present Mr. Bodie Cambridge.”
With sweating palms and a racing heart, I step foot into the room. As four sets of eyes fall on me, I wish I could take a moment to appreciate the room around me. Recognizing it from one of my pre-Sutton Google searches, I immediately know we’re in the infamous “Blue Drawing Room.”
This is where Queen Jane takes her
meeting with the Prime Minister every week and where she meets worldly diplomats and people of politics. This room is saved for the important meetings.
Three white gold and diamond chandeliers hang from the ceiling. Two high back armchairs with the royal crest sit on each end of a long, rectangular marble table. Two sofas surround the other side of the white table. Matching blue curtains line the wall-to-wall windows looking out into the gorgeous Briallen gardens.
A white grand piano, rumored to have been played by some of the greats, sits in the corner. Intricate navy filigree lines the walls, my eyes falling to one painting in the room – Queen Jane and Prince Donald’s wedding painting. Looking quickly, I would have sworn I was looking at a painting of Sara and Simone.
Sutton’s ninety-year-old grandmother springs to her feet, smiling genuinely as she leans up to kiss me on the side of my cheek. I think she’s the most tenacious woman I’ve ever met. Over the last six months, Sutton and I have joined her grandparents on their sailboat, gone horseback riding, and met them for several lunches at Briallen Palace. After our last luncheon, I was very strictly instructed to drop the formalities in private.
“I think we’ve gotten to the point it’s okay for you to call us Granny and Papa,” Sutton’s grandmother started after I greeted her as ‘Your Majesty.’ “Or, at the very least, Jane and Donald.”
Calling them by their first names seems so informal and even though I was told it’s okay, I chose to use the “Granny and Papa” option. Which led to my own grandparents insisting Sutton call them “Memere and Pepere” when she joined me in Florida to visit them a few weeks later.
“Bodie, my boy!” Sutton’s grandfather smiles, patting the empty space on the sofa he’s sitting on. “Come take a seat.”
“How was your flight?” Sterling DiMarco asks from the sofa across from us as I take the seat next to Donald Molbec, Sutton’s grandfather.
The Alloway family holds the royal line, but every woman since Sutton’s grandmother have also taken their husband’s names when they have gotten married.
Jane Alloway-Molbec. Sara Alloway-DiMarco. Simone Alloway-Specter. And then, there’s Sutton, whose last name will stay the same if I don’t get my head out of my ass and ask the question. Well, not the question. That’ll come later. Hopefully.
Here goes nothing.
“In America, traditionally, when this question is asked, it’s to a father. I know here things are different, but I want to make sure that I honor everyone in this room because I respect you all incredibly. With that being said, I love Sutton with all my heart, and I know that we haven’t been together for very long in the grand scheme of things, but I just know she’s it. I know in my heart there’s no one else for me. So with your blessings, I would like to ask her to marry me.”
Nerve-wracking silence greets me in response. As I look from her parents to her grandparents as they seem to be mulling over my request, my stomach begins to twist in knots again.
Please say something. Anything.
“Oh, will you bloody just answer the boy before he upchucks on the carpet?” Sutton’s grandfather chuckles. “We all knew what he was coming to ask and knew what the answer was before he even walked through the door.”
“We would be honored to have you join the family,” Queen Jane smiles graciously before turning to Luke. “Normally I would call for the secretary to bring champagne, but would you mind? You can use the phone on my desk.”
“Not at all ma’am,” he says.
“Do you have a ring?” Sutton’s mother asks.
“I don’t yet. I wanted to make sure I got this far first,” I admit. “I wasn’t sure what would happen.”
“I was hoping you would say that,” Queen Jane says as she reaches into the pocket of her skirt. “Please take this as our welcoming gift to the family. Donald gave it to me on our first wedding anniversary and it would mean everything to us if Sutton wore it as her engagement ring. Simone has one of my rings too.”
Dumbstruck by the magnitude of the massive emerald ring, I try to find the words to say as I stare at the bluish-green square stone surrounded by sparkly diamonds.
“I would be honored to use your ring,” I tell her, knowing damn well the sentimental value would far outrank the monetary value to Sutton.
“When you’re asked,” she continues. “It’s a six-carat emerald surrounded by thirty-eight diamonds. The band is white gold and it was given to me as a first anniversary present by Donald. And it came from Africa, which is why I chose it for Sutton. I know how important Africa is to her and now, you.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her as she places the ring in my hand.
“When will you ask Sutton?” Sterling pipes in from across the table.
“Honestly, now that I have the ring?” I laugh. “Probably tonight, if that’s okay?”
“Well, that would certainly make it easier on all of us,” Sara laughs. “Less time to keep this exciting secret to ourselves. Luke, while you’re here, let’s go over specifics for announcing the engagement.”
In between sips of celebratory champagne, Sara and the Queen go over all the important things to include in an engagement announcement with Luke.
“You’ll have to let Clementine know as soon as you get home,” Sara tells him. “She’ll need to piece together outfits for the official photographs. The sooner we can get them done, the better. Do you have a photographer on standby for Sutton’s events?”
“Actually,” I interject. “I was wondering if I could fly Helena out. She has her own photography studio and her work is amazing. Of course, I would arrange everything. I could probably get her out here within the next week.”
“We should have a garden party to celebrate!” Queen Jane adds excitedly. “How quickly do you think we could get one together?”
“You’re the Queen of Windham, darling,” Donald laughs. “You can do whatever you bloody well want.”
Leaving them to discuss the engagement party they plan on throwing us, I say goodbye as Sara informs she will call my father, sister, and brother and invite them to the party. With a handshake for each of the men, and a kiss on the cheek for the ladies, Luke and I make our exit.
“How you feeling, mate?” Luke asks as we walk back out the way we came in.
“Still like I could throw up at any second,” I laugh, reaching for his hand before getting into the black town car waiting for me. “Thanks for being there, man. I really appreciate you and your friendship.”
“Mind if I catch a ride back with you?” he asks. “I have to go let my girl know her best friend is about to get engaged and she’s about to have a lot to do.”
“Not at all,” I tell him as I climb into the back of the car. “You’re forgetting though, Sutton still has to say yes.”
The drive back to Basingstoke is the fastest fifteen minutes of my life. By the time we pull into the compound, I still have no idea what I’m going to say to Sutton. I had spent days rehearsing what I said to her parents and grandparents. Thinking this far ahead hadn’t even been an idea I thought I could entertain.
Three quick raps on the door of Pearce Cottage and I take a step back waiting for the face on the other side. It’s five o’clock on Saturday night, which means Sutton has already sent all her household staff home for the weekend.
No matter what happens tonight, my life is going to change forever.
SUTTON
Just as I reach for Roxy’s leash hanging on the hook by the front door, there are three short knocks.
The only person that shows up unannounced is my sister, but she never knocks. Having a key of her own, Simone always lets herself in and makes herself at home, even if I’m not.
Cautiously, I slowly open the door, unsure of who greets me on the other side. The compound is heavily guarded and someone getting all the way down here without getting caught is unlikely, but I’m still a little weary opening the door.
“Bodie?!?!” I exclaim when I see the smiling face that greets me. “B
ut how? I thought you weren’t coming in until tomorrow.”
“I can go stay at a hotel until then if you prefer,” he laughs. “I managed to snag an earlier flight and thought I’d surprise you. So, surprise?!”
“Oh, stop it. Come in,” I say, pushing the door open all the way. “Come in. Put your stuff down and kiss me.”
No sooner does Bodie step over the threshold, the patter of paws on the staircase get louder and louder with each second.
“I hear my favorite puppy in the whole world.” Bodie’s voice gets louder with each word, the excitement in his voice unmistakable.
Leaping from the bottom step, Roxy runs over to where Bodie is standing. Her tail wagging rapidly as she spins in circles around him. Seconds later, Bodie’s on the ground.
“Since I’m down here already,” he starts, pulling a small velvet box out of his khaki pockets.
Bloody hell. Is this really happening right now?
A million little butterflies begin to flutter around in my stomach as chills roll over my entire body.
“Sutton Evangeline, you have made me the happiest—”
“Yes!” I shriek. “Yes. Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.”
Standing up slowly, he laughs enthusiastically as he takes the ring out of the little slit in the box. Immediately, I recognize it. It’s my favorite ring of my grandmother’s.
“You didn’t even let me finish,” he says as he slides the emerald onto my finger.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him.
“I was going to wait until dinner tonight,” he admits. “But I was down here and figured I might as well get it over with.”
“How romantic,” I laugh against his lips.
“I’ll show you romantic.” He smiles wickedly, wiggling his eyebrows.
We’ve been through so much in the short time we’ve been together. We’ve fought battles with the media and then had to deal with an attention-hungry ex-wife, who coincidentally enough seemed to drop out of the media’s eye after my grandmother’s secretary made a phone call making her a more than generous offer to “cease her media activity.” We’ve made it work through different time zones, thousands of miles and an entire ocean between us.
