But as I sat in the bar, listening to Garrick’s words, on the heels of me getting on my knees, I couldn’t help but feel like a fool.
I thought he and I were getting closer, and I have all these big feelings—feelings of wanting to be his.
I want to yell at him or scream at him. I wanted my plan, this plan where I buy fancy lingerie and whipped fucking cream, to work. I thought maybe it could be as easy and light as that.
As if this was something besides my actual life, my actual marriage. Garrick deserves more than that.
Our marriage deserves more than a push-up bra and an aerosol can. Doesn’t it?
In the street, there are tourists all around taking pictures of the wedding chapel in which I was just married, posing in front of white horses that draw carriages, snapping photos in front of the city square.
I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be around all these people, in a country that feels unknown. I thought I wanted an adventure, but right now I just want to curl up in bed and cry.
Shoving my hands in my new coat’s pockets, I walk down the alley, knowing I need to make my way toward the cabin. Where else am I supposed to go? The castle isn’t an option.
I could see through the flimsy façade of Garrick’s parents last night, see the way our marriage was a show for them. An opportunity for them to put us on parade, just like Garrick wanted to avoid. They may be my in-laws, but they don’t feel like family.
And that’s what’s so crazy about Garrick. I’ve only known him a day ... yet already I’m willing to fight for this marriage.
And yes, fight him, too.
I want to punch him in the face. I want to yell at him and scream at him and tell him how I really feel. He hurt me—but that doesn’t mean I’m going to run away from him.
I stop in my tracks, realizing that’s exactly what I’m doing. I ran out of the bar, instead of sitting and saying Garrick, listen to me. You’re hurting me. I deserve better.
I should have stayed.
I keep saying I want an adventure, but what that really comes down to is wanting to experience things outside of my comfort zone, being forced to expand into a bigger, better person.
Being brave is an adventure too, it’s walking into the unknown. And maybe the adventure I’m looking for is inside a tiny cabin with a man who makes my knees weak and my belly flop and my pussy ache.
Maybe that isn’t settling for something small.
Maybe it’s granting myself permission to take a leap of faith with the man I’m married to.
The man I have fallen for. Hard.
Maybe if I jump, he’ll catch me.
I take a deep breath and turn around, knowing that I need to march back into that bar and give Garrick a piece of my mind, not caring who hears me. I’m going to go in there and let him know that I’m fighting for this.
For us.
And that I won’t walk away again.
I’ll also explain that he is a freaking idiot to think I’ll starch his flannel shirts and make him beef stew every night.
I’m a princess. Just like every other woman. And I deserve to be treated as such.
Hell, I’ll drag him back down to that bathroom screaming his face off and tell him how I really feel. Because blinking back tears does nothing, and wiping away tears isn’t going to get me the marriage I want. The relationship I want.
The life I want.
Running away is only going to leave me alone.
At the bar, I pull open the door, and scan the room. Garrick isn’t here. I bite my bottom lip, wondering where he went.
Kurt’s eyes meet mine. He walks over to me, handing me a handkerchief. “He left Princess, moments after you ran out. But that must have been ten minutes ago, or more. Want to come to the bar, love, and have a drink?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Thank you, but I need to get home.”
I swallow, shocked that when I say home, I mean Garrick’s cabin.
Right now, that’s the only place I want to be.
And I hope he’s there waiting for me.
20
When I leave the bar and realize Iris has left the city square without a backward glance, I know there’s only one way I can make it up to her.
There’s only one way that matters.
I duck my head, not wanting to garner the attention of any of the fucking tourists.
I walk straight to the castle, refusing to let my stupid ideas get in the way of the one good thing that’s ever happened to me.
The moment I laid eyes on Iris at the chapel, I knew she was an angel—one I don’t deserve. And I know we have a whole slew of things we need to discuss and work out, but none of those things matter. The second I flippantly said that she could cook me dinner on a new stove, I knew I sounded like an idiot.
I saw her eyes fill with tears, saw her shake her head in her disappointment. Disappointment in me.