by B. E. Baker
“What’s going on?” I ask. “Because you look really keyed up, and I can’t think of anything you might ask that I’d turn down.”
She laughs then, a high pitched sound I’ve never heard from her before. She laughs so hard that her eyes water. Then she sits on the sofa, still laughing. Then she stops, just as suddenly as she started. “I’ve lost my mind,” she says. “I am so sorry.”
I sit next to her and take her hand. “What did you come here to ask?” She’s going to make me crazy too, if she doesn’t tell me soon.
She reaches down into her purse and pulls out a small black box. I squint at it, but I can’t quite tell what’s inside. Then she drops down on the floor as though she lost a contact lens. I didn’t even know she wore contacts.
Before I can get down to help her look for whatever she dropped, she pops back up, on one knee. “James Fulton the Fourth, whose middle name I don’t even know, will you marry me?” She pops open a box, and I stare blankly at a platinum wedding band.
I’ve officially gone insane. Because there is no way that Paisley, Princess Holly, or anyone resembling her, would come to my apartment and ask me to marry her. I sit in front of her, stupidly, for at least a full minute.
She hops up and closes the box, sliding next to me on the sofa. “Luke told me,” she says softly. “That you didn’t quite beat your dad.”
I exhale a breath it feels like I’ve been holding for a year.
“But I had this weird idea.” She drops the box back in her bag. “Clearly a really stupid idea.”
“To marry me,” I say.
“Well, I guess so. I mean, you helped me when I needed a fake boyfriend.”
“I don’t understand. Do I need a wife?” I ask, not quite able to insert the ‘fake’ this time.
“Well, it just so happens that I have a trust worth around twenty-million.”
Understanding dawns. “If I marry you, then I’ll be over the billion dollar mark, and marrying someone is building something.”
She beams at me. “Exactly!”
“And then I’ll beat Dad and get Grandfather’s billions.”
“That’s the idea,” she says. “Just like you helped me, I can help you.”
“You would marry me, so that I can mark that last name off my list?” My eyebrows have climbed so high, I’m worried they’ll rocket off my head.
Her face crumples. “I said it was a weird idea. I’m sorry.” She stuffs her book in her bag.
“No,” I say. “I mean, I’m not saying no. I’m saying it’s not a weird idea. It’s a brilliant one.”
She turns toward me slowly, and her beautiful, expressive eyes meet mine. “So that’s a yes?”
“I think we need ground rules,” I say. “But it’s a yes.” My chest feels too tight, and it has nothing to do with lifting weights. She wants to marry me, even if it’s for a strange reason.
“Right.” She whips a notebook out of her bag. “I’ve been thinking about this all the way to New York.”
“Oh,” I say. “You have.”
“Well, it was my idea.” She taps her lip with the eraser of a yellow Number Two pencil.
“Hit me with it. What are your rules?”
“It needs to look real,” she says. “But I’ll tell Luke and Mary and the rest of them the truth. If I lie to them again, they’d probably never forgive me.”
“I doubt they’ll be very supportive,” he says.
She shakes her head. “They might not be, but I can’t hide it from them.”
I grunt.
“Is that a yes?”
I shrug. “Your friends, your decision.”
“Well, Luke is your friend too.”
He grins. “True, but you know the whole pack of them much better. If you want to tell them this is an arrangement and you trust them to keep it quiet, it’s fine with me.”
“Okay.” She looks down. “Obviously we don’t. . .” Her eyes dart toward my bedroom. “Cohabitate.”
I grin. “Obviously.”
“Otherwise we can’t get an annulment.”
“Sure,” I say. “That makes sense.”
“But my family can’t ever know it’s fake,” she says. “They would never understand.”
“So where would we get married?” I ask. “Because this would have to happen fast.”
“How do you feel about Vienna?” she asks with a sly smile.
“I liked it last time.”
“Cole might have mentioned to me that Mom and Dad are hosting a Winter Ball.”
That’s convenient. “You think it could be turned into a wedding?”
She shrugs. “I mean, normally Mom would FLIP about the idea of two weeks’ notice, but she was so upset when we broke up, I think she’ll figure out the details.”
“Well,” I say.
“Well what?” Her eyes are so wide, that she looks like a cartoon deer.
“It’s Black Friday,” I say. “So you better grab your coat.”
“My coat?” she asks.
“Yes. I do not want to pay a dime more than I have to for the ridiculously large diamond I’m about to buy you.”
Her mouth splits into a beautiful grin.
“But you need to add a fourth stipulation.”
She freezes. “Oh?”
“You get half,” I say. “If you do this for me, you deserve to get half of my grandfather’s trust. I insist on it. You can start a charity cancer hospital and call it Hans-Noel. You can fund your family Distribution for the next two million years. You can buy a llama farm. I don’t care what you do with it, but half of the proceeds will be yours.”
She frowns. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”
I reach my finger under her chin and lift it up. I want to kiss her so badly it hurts, but I want her not to be scared away even more than I want to kiss her. “I know it isn’t. You’re doing it to help me.”
She nods. “Right.”
I fold my hands in my lap. “But those are my rules. If you’re going to help a miserable hawk like me, you’re going to take half of that money and do something truly good with it.”
“Okay.” She smiles. “But you aren’t a miserable hawk. You’re a beautiful one.”
I can’t breathe, I want to kiss her so desperately. My fingers tingle, they want to touch her face so badly. But I don’t know how she would react. I don’t know what would happen, so tighten my hands into fists at my sides instead. “Now, tell me this. Do we need a pre-nup?”
She scrunches her nose. “I don’t know. Do we?”
“Your friends Trig and Paul would insist on that.”
“Well, I doubt most of this would be legal.”
I smile. “Maybe not. Marrying to win a challenge and get half a trust?” I laugh. “I’m not sure any of it is legal.”
“My family has a lot of money,” she says, “but I only have the twenty-million. That’s all separate property when we get married. Right?”
I nod.
“So it’s not like your much larger fortune will be at risk, either. And we won’t be married long enough to co-mingle.”
Her practical assessment reminds me of exactly what’s going on. My heart slows, my fingers return to normal, my lungs work again. We won’t be married long. I try not to frown.
“If you want one, that’s fine,” she says. “I’ll sign whatever your lawyers draw up.” She gasps. “But.”
“What?” I ask.
“Can you not use that Anastasia to draft it?”
“Did she say anything rude to you?” Because I’ll fire her so fast that her Botox check will bounce.
She shakes her head. “No, nothing like that, but she’s way too pretty. I know it’s petty, but I don’t like the idea of you working with her on it.”
I laugh then, a belly laugh I haven’t used since the last time I was with her. “I don’t want a pre-nup anyway.”
“You don’t?” she asks.
I shake my head.
“Oh.”
&n
bsp; “So that’s easy.”
“It is,” she agrees.
“Alright, then start thinking. One huge diamond? Lots of regular sized ones? What does your dream engagement ring look like?”
“We can’t spend much,” she says.
“Why ever not?” I ask.
“We don’t want your net worth to drop below a billion,” she says. “And you need my twenty, right?”
I laugh again, and it feels good. So good. “Don’t worry. I’ve got some cars I can sell if it comes to that. It’s not like I need them in New York City, anyway.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Where will we tell people we’ll live? I can’t have Mary thinking I’ll quit my job.”
Her job as a secretary, but a job she loves, with people she cares a great deal about—her real life. “Do you like working for her?”
“I love it,” she says. “I always have.”
“Then I’ll move to Atlanta,” I say. “Of course I would. I hear the cost of living is much better there anyway.”
“My parents will push for us to move to Vaduz. In Liechtenstein.”
I love hearing her talk about where we’ll live. I know it’s not real. I know we’re going to get an annulment, but I like it anyway. “Well, maybe we can split time. After all, once your dad dies, which hopefully won’t be for a long time, you’ll be the new ruler, right?”
She grimaces. “Actually, females can’t take over. And Cole can’t either, not unless I can get the dynasts to vote to change the law and allow adopted children to succeed the throne.”
I lift my eyebrows. “Is that likely?”
“Dad says no.”
“Well, we will deal with it when it comes.”
“Right,” she smiles. “Good answer.”
I don’t like the reminder that she’s just playing at this, but she doesn’t mention it again. Not at the jeweler where she picks, with a little urging, a five carat emerald cut solitaire. “It’s boring,” I say. “Don’t you want a fancy setting?”
“I like simple things,” she says. “It’s already bigger than I would have chosen.”
“It’s smaller than you deserve,” I say.
She blushes, and I want to take a photo. I can, I realize. We’re engaged. I should be taking photos, in fact. I hand my phone to the jeweler and he snaps one of both of us. The next time Paisley’s not looking, I text it to both my parents.
Take that, Mom and Dad. Of course, then I’m subjected to a barrage of texts in return, and I have to dodge six calls, five of which are from my mom.
FaceTiming Paisley’s parents is one of the most exciting experiences I’ve had all year. The unmitigated joy on her mom’s face actually makes me feel a little guilty. But otherwise, it’s sheer delight. Not even two minutes after we break the news, her mom is talking about modifications to flower arrangements, and coordinating the design of the dress to thank you gifts for the guests.
“Why do we have to give them a gift?” I ask. “Aren’t they supposed to be giving us a gift?”
My future mother-in-law’s face falls in dismay.
“I’m kidding,” I say. “Of course.” Even though I’m not, I don’t like seeing her upset. I’ll look up ‘wedding gifts for guests’ later so I have some idea what she’s talking about.
“Two weeks,” she squeals. “Two weeks! We have so much to do in the next two weeks.” Her joy shifts a little toward panic, and I glance at Paisley.
“Well Mom, this just happened, so I have some celebrating to do, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Right,” she says. “I understand. But I may text you a few questions tonight. Like, are you sure you want to get married in two weeks? The Winter Ball is set for the Garden Palace, but we could do the dreamiest wedding in the spring at Wilfersdorf Castle. Just think of the—”
“The Garden Palace is fine,” Paisley says. “And I’ll be thinking of bridesmaids and colors tonight, I promise.”
“And the cake,” her mother says. “Don’t forget the cake.”
“Right.”
With every call, with every exciting step, my anticipation grows.
Except, our fake breakup broke me, and I’m beginning to worry that I might not survive our real annulment. The only reason I haven’t called off the madness is that I begin to develop a plan of my own. I didn’t try nearly hard enough the last time, to turn something fake into something real. I wasn’t sure what I wanted.
But this time, I’m going to swing for the fences. Because I don’t want an annulment at all.
17
Paisley
Mary drops her bag and stops to stare. “Well, if I have to be a bridesmaid while I’m pregnant, at least you didn’t delay the wedding.”
“I’m sorry it’s such a long flight,” I say. “I’ve heard flying while you’re pregnant stinks.”
“Everything stinks when you’re pregnant.” Her face is a little green. “So don’t feel bad. I’d be miserable at home, too.”
“Need the extra puke bag?” I offer the one I tucked into my purse.
She shakes her head. “No, I’m good.”
Amy and Chase bound up to me, Luke on their heels. “This is the coolest house I have ever seen in my whole entire life,” Amy gushes.
“Wait until you have to scrub the floors,” I say.
Her eyes widen like saucers. “Did you have to do that?”
I laugh. “I never even lived here.”
“What?” She points at the Garden Palace, its columns lit brightly. “But you’re a princess.”
I smile. “We have ten castles, two palaces and a house. But my favorite one is very nearly the smallest one.”
James walks up behind me. “It’s the very place I found out Paisley was a princess. Her family lives there all year round, almost.”
I smile when he takes my hand. “True.”
“I still can’t believe you two made up,” Mary says. “And not only that, but you’re getting married.”
James squeezes my hand. I insisted that we tell them the truth, but then I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
“I’m a little surprised myself,” I say.
Amy sighs. “But I’m so happy you did. Because I am missing a lot of school for this.”
“Happy to help,” James says. “I was a fan of missing a little school myself.”
“Did you hate it too?” Amy asks earnestly.
“I love school,” Troy says.
“That’s because you don’t learn anything at your school, dummy,” Amy says.
Mary’s eyes snap. “Oh no, you didn’t just say that, missy.”
Amy rolls her eyes. “Sorry I called you a dummy, Troy.”
“I’m learning my letters,” Troy says. “A is for apple.”
“It’s also for annoying,” Amy mutters.
Mary doesn’t hear her, and I don’t mention it. I do, however snicker. Amy flashes a smile my direction.
“Well, is everyone ready?” I ask.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Mary says. “Because no matter what I wear, I look like a bowling pin, and no matter what I eat, I end up tasting it twice.”
I put one hand on her arm. “I am sorry.”
Geo and Trig breeze by us. “This house,” Geo coos. “I am just at a loss for words.”
“Of course she hasn’t been sick a single minute,” Mary mutters, sounding for all the world exactly like Amy.
James glances my direction, and I realize he sees it too. He leans down and plants a kiss right on my mouth, and I almost forget it’s not real. I almost forget he’s putting on a show.
“Alright.” I take Mary’s arm, and we walk toward the palace. Two hours until the wedding.
Once we reach the front doors, Mom and her army of staff descend, and James is tugged away from me. “I’ll see you soon,” he says with an impish smile.
“Yes, you will, Mr. Fulton.”
“And soon you’ll be Mrs. Fulton,” Mom says with dreamy eyes.
I hope sh
e doesn’t completely melt down when we annul this thing, but I can’t think about that right now, or I’ll start crying. In fact, I’m going to just pretend it’s real until after it’s over. James has been so solid through it all, so steady. He never pushes, he never worries, he never stresses. In fact, he has acted exactly like a real groom, other than the fact that he hasn’t once complained about wedding costs. Not that Mom and Dad would let him pay for anything.
Hilda does my hair while Mom hovers. I don’t love how it turns out, but it’s not horrible. Mom looks at the complicated twists and braids with a pinched look, and then she shakes her head. “That’s not going to work. It’s not bad, but it’s not stunning. We need stunning.”
Half an hour later, I’m pretty sure I’ve lost about a third of my original hair. But when I look in the mirror, I decide it was worth it. James didn’t want me to put my hair up, but if something is going to change his mind, it’s this up do. A loose braid starts at my left temple and runs across the crown of my head and around to the base of my neck. A beautiful, elegant. . .I don’t know what to call it—a puff, maybe?—floats away from the back of the braid, and the two join in a tangled, but somehow neat, knot at the base of my neck. A few soft curls around my face keep it from being too severe.
“Now it’s time for the flowers,” Mom says.
I wave her off. “That’ll be too much.”
She smiles. “This is your wedding. There’s no such thing as too much.”
I don’t have the energy to argue, but when she’s done, I realize she was right. A few roses in the knot, and a few sparkly stick pins scattered throughout only accentuate the whole look.
For the first time in my life, I’m channeling Cinderella. Or Belle. Or another unbelievable, unrealistic, over-the-top fairytale princess. And it hits me then, a feeling I haven’t felt in a long time. A feeling I’ve avoided.
A desperate longing for my brother.
I wish Noel was here in this moment. He would have known it was fake, of course, but he also would have understood why I was doing it. He would have stood next to me and he would have told me that I looked like an angel. He always said that, any time I asked him how I looked. From the time I was very young, until the day before he died.
