Their Christmas Royal Wedding

Gabi stared into the flames, watched as they leapt and danced to the crackle of the logs. For the first time in such a long time she felt relaxed...normal, and it was wonderful. And all thanks to Cesar. She looked up as he re-entered the lounge, bearing two large steaming mugs.

‘That smells divine.’

‘I’ve put in a secret ingredient—a shot of rum.’

He sat next to her and the reassuring bulk of his body felt warm and cosy and intimate as they both watched the twinkle of the Christmas lights on the tree.

‘Thank you. It was lovely to decorate a tree with someone again.’

‘You said you used to decorate with your aunt?’

‘Yes. The first Christmas after my mom died Aunt Bea took me to buy tree decorations. I was only four but the memory is really clear. I think it was the first time Aunt Bea had bought so many decorations. To be honest I don’t think they bothered with a tree before they took me in. After that we used the same decorations every year—even when they got tatty, I insisted. In my head they were somehow traditional, connected with my mother and family.’ Gabi swallowed a sudden lump in her throat; decorating the tree had been a time when she had felt truly close to her aunt. She could still remember the way the elderly woman had followed the ritual every year, pushing her glasses up her nose every time she stood back to check on their progress. ‘After they died, I couldn’t bring myself to do it any more. I decorated the tree in the book store instead.’

‘You must have missed them very much.’

‘I did—I still do. Right after they died I felt so...alone in the world. Orphaned all over again. I don’t really remember much of my mother, but I do remember a warmth, a sense of safety and love that I associate with her. And I also remember the utter confusion, the bewilderment I felt when she died. I was too little to comprehend what it meant. But Aunt Bea and Uncle Peter were there for me.’ At such a personal cost. ‘And I will always be grateful for that. It’s good to talk about them.’ Something she seldom had the opportunity to do.

‘Tell me about them.’

Gabi hesitated—wondered if the crackle of the flames, the absolute marvel of being alone with no staff, no schedule, no expectations, no publicity had gone to her head. Or was it the genuine interest in Cesar’s eyes. Who knew? But she wanted to share some of her life with him.

‘Uncle Peter was my mother’s older brother. Half-brother, in fact, and he was much older than her. Nearly thirty years; they weren’t close at all. He was already in his late fifties when my mother left Casavalle, and he was in his sixties when she died. He and my Aunt Bea had no children through choice. I think I...bewildered them.’ She was tempted to confide it all—that overheard conversation, the fact that they had given up their dreams for her, but she didn’t. Knew her aunt and uncle had never wanted her to know, wary too that Cesar might see the revelation and its impact on her as an emotional moment of weakness. ‘But they did their best.’ Just as Cesar had promised to do as a father. ‘They bought the book store, started a whole new career, made sure I got a good education, taught me so much. And I will always be grateful for that.’

‘They sound like good people,’ he said softly. ‘The times you have described with them are good memories. They spent time with you, you cooked together, walked together, gave each other gifts, decorated a tree together...they encouraged your love of books.’

Now she could see the shadowed pain in his eyes, knew he was remembering his own childhood where his own parents had spent minimal personal time with him.

Her heart bled for the young Cesar, bred through duty not love, and then treated as a royal pawn rather than a little boy, and she shifted towards him. Said nothing because she sensed sympathy or pity would be anathema to him, hoped that somehow her closeness would convey understanding.

They sat like that for a timeless moment, and then he turned and smiled at her. ‘I wish I could have met your aunt and uncle. Thank you for sharing your memories.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Now I think it’s time for dinner. Wait here and I will get it.’

‘We’re going to eat here?’

‘Yes.’ His expression looked unsure. ‘Unless you’d prefer to sit at a table. I thought you’d appreciate as much informality as possible.’

Again a funny warmth touched her. Again she wished she knew if this was a ploy or real. Or whether it actually mattered.

* * *

Ten minutes later Cesar re-entered the lounge, pushing a trolley forward. Two plates covered with silver-domed cloches. ‘Here we are,’ he announced as he approached the sofa and removed the covers with a flourish.

Gabi broke into a delighted peal of laughter. ‘Pizza!’ she exclaimed.

‘But not any old pizza. This is Aguilarean pizza. The base is sourdough and the olives are home grown and the tomato sauce is a state secret. Truly, you will never have eaten pizza like this.’ He handed her her plate, picked up his own and sat down next to her.

Gabi gave a small exhalation of pure satisfaction. ‘No cutlery in sight,’ she murmured. ‘Perfect. Finger food I can manage.’ She took her first bite, closed her eyes in appreciation and Cesar felt his own lips curve into a smile even as desire tugged inside him. ‘This is incredible. Why haven’t I tried this before?’

‘I don’t know. You could go and request pizza from the Casavallian kitchens, but it wouldn’t be as good. Or better yet go in person and ask.’

‘I wouldn’t dare!’ Gabi looked horrified. ‘They are so busy and they terrify me. Plus I’m not sure Maria would like it.’

‘Maria is a wonderful woman and an excellent queen, but she is a different person from you. You need to do things your way.’

Gabi bit her lip. ‘It’s not that easy. I have so much to learn; and everyone else knows more than I do about everything.’ She picked up another slice of pizza. ‘I know that’s a bit sweeping but it’s true.’

‘No. It isn’t. I can think of something you know more about.’

‘You can