A Player for A Princess

“Here.” Pulling us up short, I watch him take a small gold coin from his pocket and place it in a red gumball machine.

A few twists, and out pops a clear plastic container. Inside is a copper band with an American flag etched on it in red, white, and blue.

“It’s so pretty!” I exclaim.

“It’s tin,” Cal says as he slides it on the third finger of my left hand and presses the adjustable band until it fits. “How does that feel?”

Tilting my hand side to side, I admire the painted enamel. “It’s so cute for something in a gumball machine.”

“Does it fit?” he asks, and I nod still admiring the trinket. “Take it off.”

My chin jerks up. “I want to wear it!”

He laughs, catching my waist. “You can wear it after I use it to size your real ring.”

“It’s the first piece of jewelry you’ve ever bought me.” I make a little pouty face, and he laughs.

“It won’t be the last, and I’m not giving you a tin engagement ring.”

“It’s like the one they had engraved in Breakfast at Tiffany’s.”

“I think that one was plain tin.”

“Get another one.” I clutch my hand to my chest. “I want to keep this one.”

Digging in his pocket he laughs. “It’ll turn your finger green.”

I watch as he repeats the process of small coin, turn the dial, out pops another plastic container. This time when he opens it, it’s a dull silver ring. He frowns at it.

“See! It’s one of a kind! I’ll never take it off.”

“Must’ve been in there fifty years.” He reaches for my hand and pulls the first ring off, using the second, dull one for sizing before sliding it back.

“Zelda Wilder, will you take this American flag ring, which isn’t even the flag of my country, to be my wife?”

“Since I am an American, and it is my flag?” I put my arms around his neck and peck his lips. “I will!”

His hands slide down and cup my butt, and I laugh as a tingle of heat surges in my lower stomach. “Text me when you’re done. I’ll be here.”

“This shouldn’t take long.” Another brief kiss, and I head off in the direction of Seth’s hotel. “Five blocks this way,” I say to myself, lifting my hand and examining the cute little ring.

It might be tin, but it has so much significance to me. I kiss it and continue walking, looking up at the palm trees, the blue sky overhead. Optimism is a new mood for me, but I love the feeling. Even thinking about the coming months doesn’t scare me. I’ll see Ava again. I want to talk to her and see her well and happy—not like the last time I saw her.

The memory of my beautiful little sister pale and weak in a hospital bed dampens my otherwise happy mood, but I hastily shake it away. Cal said she’s completely recovered! She’s at the palace with Rowan and the country loves her.

“Of course they do,” I say softly to myself, reading the signs as I pass.

I notice none of the buildings are taller than the palm trees, and I vaguely recall Seth saying something about that when we were driving down the first time, before we took the unexpected detour into St. Croix.

The black American Express card is in my clutch, and I pick up the pace a bit, wanting to be done with this obligation and running back to Cal in as little time as needed.

I pass a sign for a crafts store and another that says Simply Delicious. “I suppose that’s a restaurant.” Wrong, it’s a market.

At last I see the sign for Maria’s. It’s a two-story white structure that faces the shore. I’m approaching it from the opposite side, and it’s larger than I expected. I was expecting a private residence or a small, five to six bedroom establishment.

“Leave it to Seth to give himself the better room,” I say under my breath.

The hotel lobby is like the entrance to an embassy—or the waiting room of a nice hospital. Square, navy leather chairs are positioned around the space, mixed in with potted palms. A large check-in counter is staffed with locals in white shirts with navy epaulets on the shoulders and little hats. It takes me a moment to recognize the nautical theme.