“No one is kicking your ass,” Garrett tells me. “We’ll do this when you’re ready or we won’t do it at all.”
Strangely, it’s his willingness to say to hell with everything that cements my determination to go out there and do what needs to be done. Because I know it’s not just lip service. I know that no matter what I decide, Garrett will back me up 1,000 percent. This is his country and those are his people out there, waiting to see him. To see us. And still, he makes me the priority. Still, he makes sure I know that I matter to him, that I’ll always matter to him. How can I be nervous after that? And how can I do anything but show him the same level of care and commitment?
“I’m ready,” I tell him, after wiping a small smudge of my red lipstick off the corner of his mouth.
His brows go up. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
He smiles then, a bright, beautiful thing that lights up not just the room, but my heart as well. “Okay, then.” He holds out an arm for me. “Let’s do this.”
I take a deep breath and his arm. “Let’s do this,” I repeat, steadfastly ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.
We move forward, and Garrett opens the French doors leading out to the balcony that overlooks the front of Wildemar’s palace. The front of what will, very soon, be my home.
The crowd, made up of Wildemar’s citizens, tourists, and international journalists, grows hushed as we step outside. Garrett smiles at them and waves. They cheer excitedly. I wave too, which only makes them cheer more loudly.
When the furor finally dies down, Garrett tosses me a wicked grin and instead of launching into the carefully crafted, carefully rehearsed speech that has been approved by everyone from the palace PR people to the King himself, he says, “Thanks so much for braving the cold to come here today and meet Lola. I knew the day I met her that she was the one, for me and for Wildemar. But she’s a tad stubborn, so it’s taken her a little longer to come around. I’m pleased to announce that, after much coaxing, she’s finally agreed to marry me. So, please give a warm welcome to Wildemar’s next Queen.”
The crowd goes wild, both at Garrett’s ridiculous, heartfelt speech and at the astonished look on my face. I start to recover, start to wave to the crowd as the palace PR instructed me to do. But before I can so much as raise a hand, Garrett sweeps me off my feet and into his arms. Then he plants one on me, right there for the whole world to see.
“What are you doing?” I hiss when he finally pulls away.
“Making sure you don’t get cold feet,” he answers with a wink. “There’s no going back now.”
“There never was,” I tell him. “From the moment you hopped that fence, I’ve been yours.”
“And now everyone knows it,” he says as he pulls me in for another kiss.
For Emily McKay, because she’s the best
BY TRACY WOLFF
HRH
Royal Pain
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