“This prince will.”
“You are too stubborn for your own good.”
“I got that from you,” Hadrian said.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I straightened my dress. It wasn’t that fancy—a simple white sheath with a scoop neckline and wide straps over the shoulders.
I looked like the heroine in 27 Dresses when she finally got to wear her wedding dress.
Classic, simple and lovely.
I was desperately craving some bright pink hair dye.
I was about to get married. A very simple affair, Robert as the best man, Hadrian’s mother as the matron of honor and a judge.
The rest attending? The security men. Hadrian had arranged for a local justice of the peace to marry us today. A day after I came off my bed rest. It wouldn’t be a Catholic marriage, or probably even recognized by his country, but Hadrian was adamant.
I had to be somewhat impressed. What he was able to accomplish in a day, most couldn’t do in a month.
My stomach was flip-flopping, and it wasn’t morning sickness. I was a bundle of nerves that weren’t sure which way was up or down. Everything seemed to be happening so fast, I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing.
Yet, I knew if I walked downstairs right now and said I wasn’t ready to do this, Hadrian would call everything off.
I wasn’t going to, but I had something that I needed to do first.
Nico was waiting outside the bathroom. I could see him in the mirror. He was the only guard that wasn’t already downstairs with Hadrian.
“Nico, would you bring me my phone, please?”
Why this sudden need to do this, I had no idea, but I felt like I couldn’t go down there and marry Hadrian without making a phone call.
“Here,” Nico said, setting the phone on the counter for me. He looked me up and down. “You look nice.”
I smiled. “Thank you.” I picked up the phone, and almost like I was watching from outside myself, I started dialing.
It took a couple of rings before there was an answer.
It always took a few.
“Hello?” came my mother’s voice.
“Mom?” My voice quivered as I spoke, and I choked back a tear.
“Sydney?”
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom.” My heart was pounding, and I didn’t know what to expect. It had been since before the divorce was finalized that I’d spoken to my mother. And even then, she was trying to get me to reconcile with Jim, that catholic women do not get divorced.
“What do you want?” Her voice was already cold as ice, ready to hang up any moment.
“I… I just want… I’m okay,” I finally said.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her I was getting married. Yet I knew if I did, she’d either hang up on me, or tell me how I couldn’t because of my first marriage and all of that, and I’d get a lecture about doctrine and procedure, and everything else I’ve ever done wrong in my life.
“Where are you?” she asked.
“In Missouri,” I said. “At Table Rock Lake.”
“What on earth possessed you to go there this time of year?”
“A boy,” I heard myself say, and I sounded like a twelve-year-old girl caught after curfew. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
In the corner, I could see Nico talking into his earpiece, though I couldn’t make out the words.
She let out a sigh. “I didn’t raise you to be a slut that gave the milk away for free. All for some boy who’ll probably be gone next week anyway. Especially when you still have your devoted husband—”
“Ex-husband,” I ground out. “And it’s not like that. I love him.” The words came out so naturally, so perfectly, that I didn’t realize I’d let my heart speak.
And I did.
I loved Hadrian.
How, when or where it had happened, I didn’t know. But it did. It wasn’t a reflexive action to my mother’s words, it really wasn’t.
Maybe it was.
But somewhere, deep inside me, I knew it was true. I did love Hadrian. And he loved me.
“Sure you do. He’ll be done with you soon enough, and if you’re lucky, your husband will take you back.”
“Jim is my ex-husband. I won’t take him back.” I started squeezing the phone. “And Hadrian loves me. And I love him. We’re going to be married.”
Nico came up to me, carrying a long bathrobe. “His Royal Highness is coming.”
I stared at the robe, but Nico held it out to slip it on, and it dawned on me what he wanted. The groom wasn’t supposed to see the bride in her wedding dress.
“You can’t marry anyone.” And off my mother went on the tirade about church, and annulments, and all that wonderful jazz. I held the phone away from my ear.
I managed to tie the robe tight, trying not to listen to what she was saying, even though I could hear it plain enough through the phone.
The tears burst out of my eyes as Hadrian walked in the room. Nico stepped out.
He heard enough of what was being said, and his eyes narrowed, like he was ready to pounce.
Part of me wanted to scream at her—why can’t you be happy for me? Why can’t you let go of your stupid religious constructs and understand that the world doesn’t fit in a perfect little doctrine box? Why?
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I was fifteen, getting lectured about letting a boy kiss me goodnight on the porch all over again.
And every part of myself hated the spineless child in my chest. Because I wasn’t a child. And I wasn’t an idiot anymore. Jim was that mistake. I’m bigger than that now.
When she finally slowed down, I brought the phone back to my ear. “Yeah, that’s all I called about,” I said, looking at my husband to be. “I’m marrying a prince, and I’ll be a princess when it’s all said and done. And he loves my blue hair. Thanks for your moral upbringing.” My hands shook as spoke, but I was pretty sure my voice didn’t waver.
Before she could answer, I hung up the phone. Though I thought I heard her say something like “What are you talking about?” before I disconnected.
I let out a huge sigh.
Hadrian put his arm on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. Then I shook my head. The tears fell out of me like a maelstrom, ripping and shredding my makeup into stains of color on my face.
Hadrian pulled me into his arms, and I started to bawl. Hard. All over his suit jacket.
“It will be okay,” he said. “You don’t need that…that hatred.”
I let out a louder sob. “I know,” I managed to get out. “I know.” And I let it all go… All of it. My anger about Jim, my frustration with my parents, my stubbornness and my fears.
It took a while, but I did.
Hadrian let me cry against his chest the whole time. Even when I made a fist and slammed it against him, he didn’t buckle.
I loved this man so much. He was everything to me. I knew that now. I’d not ever felt anything like this before, not for anyone, not for anything… Not even the baby in my tummy compared to this. This was more than lust and overworked hormones. This was special.
This was real.
As I finally started to calm down, Hadrian patted my back. “Your parents are fools.”
I sniffed back the remaining tears. “I know.” I ran my hands over my eyes, knowing that my makeup was ruined anyway, and possibly even part of my hair…
I would be stalling the wedding even more. But it didn’t matter. Speaking to my mother solidified things. She wasn’t going to change. And it was okay for me to move on.
All that remained was the love. I’d mourned my loss of my parents long enough. I was going to be a mommy. And my love for the baby grew even larger and more encompassing, now that I’d purged my mother.
I had more room in my heart to love Hadrian. Everything else taking up space, torturing me was gone. I felt at ease for the first time in a very, very long time.
I pushed away from Hadrian. �
��You shouldn’t be here,” I said. “You need to let me finish getting ready.”
He kissed my hands. “I love you,” he whispered. I paused and looked at him…it was the first time he’d said it.
“I love you too.” I squeezed his hands back. And as I looked in his eyes, I knew he realized that I wasn’t saying it in response. I actually meant the words. “Get out of here. I have to get cleaned up,” I said, sucking up the snot in my nose.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?”
I nodded. “I will.” I turned to the mirror. “Can you get Nico? I have to ask him something.”
“Sure,” Hadrian said. “Nico!”
“I could have done that,” I muttered, grabbing a washcloth to start cleaning off my face.
Nico came around the corner. “Yes, Your Highness?”
Hadrian pointed at me. “She wanted to ask you something.”
I brushed the damp cloth over my eyes, removing the mascara…or at least attempting to. Stuff takes forever to get off. I faced Nico. “Will you walk me down the aisle?”
Nico’s eyes went wide. “Uh… Well…” He glanced from me to Hadrian and back again.
“Who else is going to do it?” I asked, hand on my hip.
Hadrian smiled at him. “If you want to, do it.”
“Yes, ma’am, I will do the honor.” He smiled at me with a million-watt grin that would probably have set any other woman’s heart a thumping.
Hadrian, though, sent my trigger thumping. Even now, me recovering from my tears, my heart was thundering being here in the bathroom with him.
This man, who made me feel so incredible, was going to be my husband. I started humming to myself that old song, “Going to the Chapel” by the Dixie Cups as I stretched my arms over my head, feeling more of the nerves and tension start to melt away.
Hadrian laughed at me. “I’m going back downstairs.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek singing another line of the song in my ear.
I said the next line of the old song back to him. I continued to hum the tune as Hadrian walked out of the room.
“Ma’am?” Nico brought my attention to him as I continued to fight with the leftover mascara on my face. “You are going to be a duchess.”
I blinked. “But Hadrian’s a prince. I’m not going to be a princess?”
“No, a duchess. The Duchess of Bouzio.”
I let out a laugh. “I’m the clown duchess. Great. Just perfect.” I continued scrubbing at my ruined makeup. “At least I kinda look like a clown.”
Nico smirked.
Jim’s hands clenched around the cup of tea he’d been drinking. The little house, filled to the brim with knick-knacks and fine china, and all those things that a home accumulated over forty years, surrounded him.
There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, either.
Sydney’s mother kept a lovely home.
“Of all the ironies,” Mrs. Martinson said as she sat, picking up her cup of tea.
“Why is that?” Jim asked, pretending he hadn’t heard half of the phone call.
“You come here, asking me about Sydney, and now she calls, for the first time in… I can’t recall how long.” She sipped on her tea.
“How interesting indeed,” Jim said. Stay calm. Remain patient. It didn’t matter if this old cow took all day to relay the important information, he would get it. “And how is she doing? I haven’t seen her in a while.”
Mrs. Martinson rolled her eyes. “Run off to Table Rock Lake,” she said. “With some boy.” She muttered something under her breath, sounding a lot like “slut.” Which didn’t surprise Jim that much.
Sydney hadn’t been behaving that well as of late.
Time to remedy that.
“Isn’t that in Missouri?” Jim asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
She nodded. “In the Ozarks. Huge place, a lake we used to go to when she was a girl.”
He made a mental note to check the GPS on his phone. “Ahh, I think I recall her mentioning that before.” Jim picked up a dry cookie and took a bite. As much as he hated the things, he’d do what he had to. And he’d have to go see Lou over at the police station.
“Run there with some boy,” she said, dragging Jim back into the conversation. She sipped more on her tea then glanced at Jim over the rim of the cup. “I think she’s losing her mind. Perhaps it’s best that you let her go.”
“Why is that?” Jim asked.
“She sounded almost delusional. Claimed she was getting married, which of course she can’t. She would have to get your marriage annulled first.”
“And I have seen no papers like that,” Jim said, his own rage growing. He forced himself to be careful. He didn’t want to shatter the cup he was holding. It was such delicate china.
“I’m sure she’s losing her mind. She said something about when she got married, she’d be a princess.” Mrs. Martinson let out a sigh. “A princess? Can you imagine? She must be on something. Things like that don’t happen. And they certainly don’t happen to divorced women.”
Jim raised his eyebrow. “You’ve heard of Prince Charles and Camilla Parker-Bowles, right?”
Mrs. Martinson didn’t particularly like that comment.
Didn’t matter though. Jim had what he needed.
Next stop, Table Rock Lake.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Hadrian waited, his hands fidgeting, and he tried grasping his fingers together to stop himself. Robert nudged him in the back with his shoulder.
“It will be fine,” Robert whispered.
“What if she changes her mind?” Which was his greatest fear at the moment. Sydney would turn around and walk away, decide she didn’t want to marry him. Especially after the bathroom scene.
She’d been so distraught.
What if—what if her mother’s words were stopping her? When he’d walked in, the voice on the phone was so horrible, her words so sickening, Hadrian wanted to reach into the phone and strangle the woman.
She could be scared or worried. She may have said that she loved him, but did she mean it? She’d seemed sincere.
But really, how could she love him?
What time had they spent together? They had no strong basis for a marriage.
Just a baby on the way.
And while Hadrian knew he could formally recognize the baby and support her with childcare and such, it wasn’t the same. He wanted to be a dad. He wanted to be with Sydney.
He wanted, in a strange way, what Michel had, not the crown, but the family. The wife that would sit by his bed and wait for him to wake up.
The one that loved him that much.
In his gut, he knew Sydney was the woman for him. Though making this work, he wasn’t sure how that would happen. His show in Los Angeles? How would that work?
He couldn’t move an entire production company to Kansas so he could stay near his wife. But that hadn’t even been discussed. Would she be reasonable and move to Los Angeles? Would she consider that option?
He had to figure this out.
He had to.
Because he didn’t want to be like his parents were, separated by continents and a grudge.
In his mind, he heard, almost as if his dad was standing right there, his dad’s words about love and marriage.
“Son, when you feel that kick in the gut, it doesn’t matter if the relationship works out or not. You’re never going to feel it for anyone else. So you grab on with both hands and hold on tight.”
Hadrian made fists. He was. He was going to hold on tight…he didn’t want to lose Sydney.
Yet there was a part of him that was afraid to do that very thing. What if holding on was exactly what drove Sydney away? What if that’s what drove Mom away from Dad?
He was practically forcing Sydney into this. There really wasn’t a reason to do it, if factoring out the whole love thing.
And he was in love.
He had no doubt of that.
The wind slid around him, ru
ffling his hair.
The judge came out of the balcony door and headed to stand next to Hadrian. “She is on her way.”
Hadrian’s hands turned to balls of sweat.
The door opened, and the other royal guards came out. They hadn’t set out any chairs, because the security men wouldn’t have sat down anyway. They all had their little headsets on, and the wires, while translucent, still stuck out against their black ensembles.
Then out came Hadrian’s mother, carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers picked here at the house.
Hadrian smiled. He’d wanted to at least go buy a couple of nice, fancy bouquets at the local florist, but Sydney had insisted on using the flowers that grew around here.
And he found that endearing. As endearing as her blue hair.
His mother stepped to the other side of the judge, smiling contently.
And the doors opened again.
Hadrian inhaled a breath of air.
This was it.
Sydney came onto the deck. Nico looked like a giant next to her.
Yet he barely saw the bodyguard.
All his focus was on Sydney.
He’d never seen anyone look so beautiful. The satin dress clung to her in all the right ways, making her look truly ethereal. The wind blew, and it was like something in a magazine. The air pressed the dress against her, outlining her hips and legs. She was the most beautiful girl in the world.
She looked from Hadrian to his mother, and back at him, her eyes wide, and she pivoted, jerking her arm away from Nico and running back inside.
Hadrian’s heart leapt. “Syd?” Panic ran over him. “Syd?” he called, louder this time.
No.
Not this.
This was bad.
So very bad.
Nico stood there, stunned, his eyes wide, staring at Hadrian like he didn’t know what was going on.
His mother stepped forward, holding out her hand, to keep Hadrian back. “Let me.”
How could she? His worst fear, realized in a flash. Sydney was running away…
The door came open again, and Sydney came back out, her hands in a death grip on a bouquet of wildflowers. “Sorry, forgot my flowers,” she said, shrugging.
Hadrian let out an audible sigh, his whole body slumping as she slipped her arm on Nico’s again and they started to walk. They walked very slowly, that slow one-step-pause-two-step walk brides do as they come down the aisle.
The Reluctant Prince Page 24
