Chapter 19
NINETEEN
The kitchen smelled like coffee and the faint sweetness of maple syrup from the pancakes Ben was keeping warm in the oven. His princess was still sleeping and he didn’t want to wake her just yet.
In spite of everything, he was nervous about today. He wanted it to be perfect.
Charlie had been living with him for two weeks now, ever since Desmond went off like a nuke in her apartment.
The first few days she'd been cautious, afraid to move anything or claim space.
She asked if it was okay to make coffee.
Asked before she opened the fridge. She'd practically asked permission to use the bathroom.
Ben had fixed that by rearranging his own furniture one morning, moving her art supplies into the spare bedroom himself, and hanging her St. Vrain drawing in the living room where he could see it every day.
Now she was settling in. Her coffee mug sat next to his above the coffee pot. Her sketchbooks littered the sunroom. Her tactical backpack hung on the hook by the door next to his forge apron.
It felt right.
He just had to convince her to make it permanent. He hoped today would go a long way toward that.
The bedroom door opened and Charlie appeared, sleepy-eyed but undoubtedly drawn by the scent of coffee.
Flo trotted out behind her, tail wagging, and headed straight for her full food dish.
Charlie's hair was sleep-mussed, gorgeous. She wore one of his old t-shirts that hit her mid-thigh, which absolutely delighted her. She’d told him it made her feel dainty.
“Morning, Princess,” Ben said.
Charlie made a sound that might have been words and headed straight for the coffee pot. Ben had already poured her a mug. He handed it to her and she took it like a drowning woman grabbing a life preserver.
“You're perfect,” she mumbled into the steam.
“You say that every morning.”
“And I'm right every morning.”
He chuckled at their usual routine as he opened the oven.
She took a long sip, then another. Finally her eyes focused. “What time do we need to leave?”
“We have an hour. Faire opens at ten, but I want to get there early for setup. Hope you don’t mind eating bachelor-style in the kitchen.” He set two plates of pancakes on the counter. “Eat up.”
“With pleasure.” She opened a drawer and took out two forks and knives while he grabbed the syrup and butter.
Charlie took a bite, closed her eyes, and groaned. “So good.”
“Thank you. Glad you approve.”
As Charlie woke, she looked Ben up and down approvingly. “I do love that kilt.”
Ben felt his cheeks heat. He knew just how much she loved it every time she sneaked into the backyard forge to watch him work while he wore it. He was surprised he didn’t have to pick her jaw up off the floor each time.
“I don’t suppose you have any spare armor lying around I could wear this time?” she asked, half-joking. “I wasn’t exactly dressed for it last time.”
Ben's mouth curved. “Sorry, I've pretty much sold out of everything, like I always do by the last weekend.”
“Figures.” She pretended to pout.
“But… I have something else.”
Charlie looked at him over the rim of her mug, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”
Ben set his own coffee down and moved behind her.
“What are you doing?”
He covered her eyes with his hands. “Trust me?”
“Always.”
He guided her through the kitchen, down the hall, into the sunroom. The first morning light poured through the windows, turning everything to molten gold.
Except for one spot of moonlit sliver.
Ben grinned. “Okay.” He dropped his hands.
Charlie's breath caught.
The dress was on a dressmaker's form he'd borrowed from Della. Princess Evelaine's gown—blue velvet bodice with silver embroidery, the full skirt in silver and blue silk, the waist fitted.
“Ben,” Charlie whispered, shocked. “That’s—”
“Princess Evelaine’s dress from the Faire.” He moved to stand beside her.
Charlie reached out and touched the gossamer fabric, her fingers trembling slightly. “You bought this for me?”
“Weeks ago. I've been waiting for the right time to give it to you.”
“How…how did you know?”
“I saw how you looked at it when you took Viv to the costume shop. I knew you had to have it.”
“But there’s no way I can wear it. It can’t possibly fit.”
“Of course it can. I had Della alter it to fit you.” He moved to stand beside her. “She added pockets, too. Said no woman should suffer a dress without pockets.”
Charlie shook her head. “It might fit, but it won’t…fit. Not me. I’m…” She gestured over her body. “This.”
Ben cupped her face in his hands.
“You know, the books never actually describe Princess Evelaine as petite,” Ben said.
Charlie blinked, confused. “Of course they do.
She's an Elven princess. She's 'willowy as a slender sapling' and 'her hair shines like starlight on the sea' and her eyes are 'the color of an early morning sky in spring' and…” Charlie frowned as she mentally went through all the descriptions of Evelaine in the books.
Ben grinned. “And?”
“She's…she's got to be petite.”
“Why?”
“Because she's beautiful. The most beautiful princess who ever lived.”
Ben stopped her there. His hands gently curled around her arms just above her elbows. Charlie suddenly found herself face to face with him, and having to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.
“She is the most beautiful princess who ever lived. And I've always pictured her as tall and formidable. Strong. Determined. Loyal.” He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across her cheek then tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Not petite.”
Charlie's hazel eyes went misty.
“I don't know what to say.”
“Say you'll wear it today.”
“Yes.” She laughed, the sound breaking slightly. “God, yes. Thank you!”
“There's one more thing.” Ben picked up a carved wooden box from the table where he made jewelry. The surface was still covered in tools—pliers, files, a magnifying glass on a stand, wire-rimmed glasses he wore when he worked on delicate pieces.
He handed her the box.
Charlie opened it carefully. Her eyes lit up again.
Inside, nestled on black velvet, was a silver necklace. Delicate filigree work formed a pendant set with three pale blue stones that matched the dress.
“Ben.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “This is—”
“I started it the day I bought the dress. Finished it last night.” He took the necklace from the box and moved behind her. “May I?”
She lifted her hair and he fastened the clasp. The pendant settled perfectly at the hollow of her throat.
Charlie turned and looked up at him. “No one's ever—” She stopped, swallowed. “Thank you.”
Ben cupped her face in his hands. “Go put on the dress, Princess. I want to see you in it.”
Twenty minutes later, Charlie emerged from the bedroom.
Ben forgot how to breathe.
The dress fit her perfectly. Della had taken in the bodice to follow Charlie's athletic build, adjusted the sleeves so they sat properly on her shoulders. The blue brought out the gold in her hazel eyes. The necklace gleamed against her skin.
She'd left her hair down, loose around her shoulders.
“Well?” Charlie did a slow turn, the skirt swirling. “What do you think?”
Ben couldn't speak. He just stared.
Charlie's confidence faltered. “Does it look weird on me? I can change—”
“No.” Ben found his voice. “God, no. Don't you dare change. You're—” He crossed to her, pulled her close. “You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.”
Charlie's cheeks flushed pink. “You're biased.”
“I'm honest.” He kissed her forehead. “My princess.”
They dropped Flo off at Watchdog's kennels then drove down to the Faire. The parking area was already filling with vendors and performers setting up for the last weekend of the season.
Charlie drew stares the moment she stepped out of the truck. Ben loved it.
Let them look. Let them see my princess.
“I feel like I should curtsy or something,” Charlie muttered as they walked through the gates.
“Just be yourself.” Ben took her hand. “You're perfect.”
The Faire was in full setup mode. Vendors arranging their last pieces of merchandise, food stalls firing up grills, musicians tuning instruments.
Ben spotted the costume shop—Della's booth was still packed with garments despite it being the last weekend.
She always over-stocked and always sold well anyway.
“Ben!” Della waved from behind her counter. When she saw Charlie in the dress, her face lit up. “Oh my stars, look at you! It's perfect! I knew the three-quarter sleeves would work better on you than the original. And that necklace!” She clasped her hands together. “Did you make that, Ben?”
“Finished it last night.”
“Gorgeous work. Both of you look absolutely stunning together.” She winked at Charlie. “Keep him, honey. The good ones are rare.”
Ben's last demonstration of the year drew a solid crowd. He worked the forge, heating steel to glowing orange, shaping it on the anvil with practiced strikes. Charlie watched from the front row, her eyes tracking every movement.
Afterward, Ben offered Charlie his arm. They moved through the Faire.
“Have you heard from Viv?” Ben thought of the chaos of their last visit.
“Yes. No more attacks, though the online backlash is still brutal. Poor Maddie’s doing overtime trying to quash it, but it seems to get worse the more she tries.”
Ben nodded. “Rowan said the same thing. But, there’s a silver lining. If anything, the pressure has brought him and Viv closer together.”
But Charlie’s attention had snapped elsewhere. Ben grinned at her smile.
“Would you like to meet them?” he asked her.
She looked at him with unbridled, innocent excitement. “Can we?”
Ben led Charlie to a large, open ring where Jerry and Linda kept their elephant and camel. The elephant, a gentle giant named Jasmine, stretched her trunk toward Charlie, hoping for treats.
“She likes you,” Linda said. “Animals always know good people.”
“Where do you keep her?” Charlie asked.
Jerry grinned. “We winter in Arizona with these two, spend summers here in Colorado. When we're up here, we stay with Linda's dad outside Castle Rock. He's a microbiologist with twenty acres. Says elephant manure makes the best fertilizer.”
“And he's not wrong,” Linda added. “His garden is legendary.”
They visited more friends—the perfumers, the glass blowers, Foxglove who made flower crowns and insisted on making one on the house for Charlie despite her protests.
Finally, as the afternoon sun slanted golden through the trees, Ben screwed up his courage and found Patrick, the harpist.
“Got time for one more song?” Ben asked.
Patrick's eyes lit up. “For you? Always. What are we playing?”
“Black Is the Color.” Then he leaned in and whispered in Patrick’s ear while Charlie looked on, bemused.
A crowd gathered as Patrick re-tuned his harp. Ben stood in the center of the clearing, found Charlie's face in the crowd, and began to sing:
Hazel are the eyes of my true love, Charlie,
Soft as summer rain on the mountain pines.
Her laugh can break the dark like morning, darling,
And peace comes over me when her hand's in mine.
Charlie's hand went to her mouth.
Her hair, it holds the sunlight when she's laughing,
Gold and chestnut tangled by the breeze.
And every time she looks at me, I'm steady—
My wandering heart remembers how to breathe.
Ben's voice didn't stutter. Not once. The words came clear and strong, carrying across the clearing.
I'll take her where the cold wind never finds her,
We’ll stand where the storm breaks on the ridge.
And if the night grows heavy on her shoulders,
I'll lift it off and swear she's never left alone again.
Hazel are the eyes of my brave love, Charlie,
Bright as firelight ’gainst the falling snow.
If she would walk beside me through the shadows,
There's not a path on earth I’d fear to go.
Patrick's harp rang out the final notes. The crowd burst into applause.
Ben crossed to Charlie. Tears streamed down her face.
“You wrote that for me,” she whispered.
“Every word.” He wiped away her tears with his thumb. “Every single word.”
She pulled him down and kissed him in front of everyone. The crowd cheered louder.
When they finally broke apart, Charlie laughed through her tears. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Princess.”
Charlie's phone buzzed. She pulled it from her pocket—bless Della for adding those—and looked at the screen. Her expression changed.
“It's Wren. Frankie's in labor.”
Ben felt his own heart jump. “Now?”
“Now.” Charlie was already texting back. “They're heading to the hospital.”
Just then, Ben’s phone buzzed.
“Ben! Frankie's—”
“I know. Wren just texted Charlie. How are you holding up?”
“I'm terrified, brother. What if she—”
“Listen to me.” Ben kept his voice steady. “Frankie's the strongest woman I know besides Charlie. She's got this. And you've got this. You just need to be there for her. Tell her she's amazing. That's all you can do.”
“What if something goes wrong? Brother, as an EMT, I’ve seen—”
“You won't. You've been preparing for this for months. You've got the best medical team, Frankie's healthy, the baby's healthy. All you have to do is show up and love them both. Can you do that?”
Another pause. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”
“Good. We'll come by the hospital later if visiting hours allow. If not, we'll see you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Moose.”
“Anytime, Ram. Now go be with your girl.”
Ben hung up and looked at Charlie. She was watching him with soft eyes.
“What?” he asked.
“You're a good friend.”
“Waylon's family. We take care of family.”
Charlie slipped her hand into his. “Yeah. We do.”
They walked back through the Faire toward the truck, the sun setting behind them, casting everything in gold and amber light. Charlie in her princess dress, Ben in his kilt, both of them heading home together.
It felt right.
It felt like forever.