“And your wife, this new princess of yours, she’s okay with that?” Kurt asks, drying a pint glass. “Guess I always assumed princesses like to be the belle of the ball.”
I shake my head, wondering what the deal is about princesses needing ball gowns to be happy.
“Well, Iris isn’t your average princess. Anyway, she’s out shopping.”
“Out shopping? I never heard a thing like this. I swear to God, Garrick, you are an anomaly.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” Kurt says, laughing. He sets my whiskey down next to my stein of beer. “Most men would be with their wives after their wedding. They would still be in bed the day after their wedding. And you? No honeymoon, no weekend away. You’re the fucking Prince. You could take this girl anywhere in the world. And instead you’re sitting around the Historic Village of Alpinweiss, drinking beer with me?”
I pick up my stein, guzzling. I set it down. My jaw tenses as I wonder if guys like Thomas and Kurt know what they’re talking about. Maybe I am the fool. No fucking refrigerator, fucking creaky floorboards, and here I am fucking drinking beer.
Alone.
15
After Garrick storms out of the house, and after my sister and Hunter talk me down, I get dressed, determined to make the best of things.
I wanted an adventure, didn’t I?
Well, this adventure isn’t exactly what I imagined, but I can certainly do my best to make it my own.
I braid my still-wet hair into a fishtail, and look for a pair of shoes that have closed toes. I find some ballet flats and decide that’s better than nothing.
In the “kitchen” I find the drawer with cash, just as promised. So that’s something. I shove an envelope full in my purse and sling my bag over my shoulder.
Of course, I like to cry when necessary and I have no problem with pulling the covers over my face and having a Netflix marathon the week of my period. But right now, there’s no time for that.
Right now, I have to grin and bear it. Or make do with what I’ve got, or pull up my straps and walk in these “boots.” However that phrase goes.
I’ve got to be the princess I was born to be.
I have no intention of leaving Garrick. We’ve been married one day, and princes and princesses don’t just get divorced.
Besides, I want to be his wife. There are a lot of things about Garrick that make me feel like a woman—that make me feel beautiful, that intrigue me.
His jawline, for one, is a major turn on. Then we have his stunning eyes and his broad shoulders, and the way he makes me feel small. Not in an insignificant way, but in a he can take care of me and protect me and be my actual knight in shining armor way.
Scratch that. Not knight in shining armor. A prince in shining armor. Is that a thing? I can’t exactly picture Garrick in armor.
Okay, maybe prince in well-worn flannel. Because that’s pretty much the only thing I’ve seen him in.
Not that it matters. That flannel shirt rolled up to his elbows, worn jeans and work boots…. It gets me hot just thinking about it. Somehow, the way he looks so comfortable in his own skin makes me want to be closer to him. Makes me want to be his.
Of course, there are plenty of things we need to work through first. Such as our relationship skills.
Sure, he made me come like a motherfucker—which, I know, that sounds crazy crass, but it’s the truth. Whatever he did to my body last night, he worked me over, worked me up and down. Worked me in all the ways.
And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a repeat tonight. Or this afternoon.
Or right now.
But I can’t.
I shut the door to the cabin, realizing I don’t even have a key to my own house—and by house, I mean piece of shit shed—and I walk down the path toward the village square.
My mind is on Garrick, of course. Will he come around and see things from my point of view? Would holding out on him, not giving him sex, be enough for him to change his entire lifestyle?
He seems to really hate the castle…but then I think about the fact that I cannot even boil a pot of water without putting a log in the fire. Which is pretty much ridiculous. If this marriage is going to work, we’ve both got to give.
More than an inch. He’s got to give up a hell of a lot.
In town, I realize it’s as cute and charming as I thought it was yesterday. Even though it’s a fall day, and the air is crisp and cool, there’s a sense of excitement on the streets. I feel like I’m in a fairy tale as I walk down the road. The people in town wave, smile, offer me greetings and congratulations.
I know I’m beaming, and I’m not even ashamed. Of course I’m grinning, this feels like magic. Strangers call out to me, “Good morning, princess,” or “Congratulations,” or “Garrick is so lucky to have you.”