9. My Life as a Fairy Tale
My Life as a Fairy Tale
Iclimbed into bed that night, and for once, I didn’t feel like I wanted to sink through the mattress. As much as I resented Casey’s continual conference addiction, as it drained our resources and left me even more work than usual, there were benefits to not having to deal with her face to face.
Such as today, when I’d gotten not one but two hours with Asher.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this happy.
Not because we’d talked about anything particularly romantic, or because we’d we engaged in exceptional flirting.
But Asher was easy to talk to, and he was an excellent horseman.
And that he’d booked an appointment with me and kicked Ron off the property?
Be still my beating heart.
As if hearing my thoughts, a text popped up on my phone. It was Asher.
Think if I book enough beginner lessons, I could get pretty good on my own?
I snorted. The man was possibly better on a horse than I was.
I don’t know. You need to work on your posture. I recommend several more sessions before we move on to the next skill set.
Even as I texted him back, though, I tried to talk some sense into my own head.
Because my heart sure wasn’t listening. As perfect as this man seemed, no one was perfect.
And he was in the military. He wouldn’t be able to keep taking time off like this to wander all over the Colorado mountains with me on horseback.
That thought did sober me.
Yes, he was obviously pursuing me. I wasn’t so blind that I couldn’t see that. And while I admittedly didn’t know much about military life, I did know that they moved a lot. I also knew that he could be sent overseas or to another part of the country at the drop of a hat.
And if… or rather when that happened, what happened then?
He couldn’t keep flying or driving back a couple times a month.
As it was, he was in Utah most of the time, and while it was only one state over, I was sure that the girls there wouldn’t hesitate to give him a second glance, should he find someone easier to date.
Even more than that, though, was the question of what happened next.
What if he did decide I was the one? What if he proposed, and we had the big wedding with the cake and the presents and the honeymoon?
I couldn’t marry him and stay here. And he couldn’t just leave the military.
Because while I didn’t know much about the military, I did know that its members were contractually obligated to serve for a number of years.
If he asked, could I follow him? Could I leave my parents’ dream home behind?
Because if I did, I would be leaving every bit of their legacy in Casey’s hands.
And without anyone to fight for the horses and the budget and the home I loved so much, she would bring them all to ruin with her constant spending and lack of love for the animals.
Then she would probably sell it all to the highest bidder and start again, not caring that she’d just sold everything I held dear.
With a sigh, I started to turn off my light, my mood far darker than it had been moments before. But as I reached for my lamp, I realized that Margaret’s book was still sitting on my bedside table.
Magic wasn’t real, of course, which meant that magical books didn’t exist. And yet, a flicker of fear made my heart beat slightly faster as I remembered our talk yesterday and her instructions:
Read it every night.
I hadn’t remembered to read it every night.
In fact, after a few days of witnessing no changes in the story, I’d been so tired I’d started to forget.
In fact, I’d almost convinced myself that it wasn’t adding the story, piece by piece, after all.
I’d just been so tired that I’d missed some because there were extra blank pages.
Still, as I thought back to the days when it had added bits and pieces, it had only ever added them when…
Only when something important happened.
Did this book… Did Margaret think my life was a fairy tale?
The only reason I was willing to even keep the thing in my room was because it was from Margaret.
My father had told me once that Margaret had been watching over me since I’d been born.
And she’d watched even more closely after my mother died, and even more, to the point of being pushy, after my father passed.
If I had anyone left to trust in this world, it was her.
Taking a deep breath, I opened the book once more. If there would be any day to add part of the story…
It would be today.
And sure enough, my heart nearly stopped beating when I found that another two-page spread had been added.
There was an image of a lovely smiling maiden with a basket in one hand on the side of a field. Her dress and apron were dirty, as was the kerchief tying back her hair, and her face was smothered with ashes. And yet, she looked happy. She might have been blushing, even.
And beside her, astride a dark horse, was a prince. At least, I assumed he was a prince. A gold circlet sat on his head, and he was wearing a suit of armor.
Even more amazing, however, was that he was smiling too.
The maiden and the prince.
After staring at it for several minutes, unable to comprehend what it was that I was seeing, I quickly shut the book and put it on the table beside me.
See? I told Margaret in my head. The book is wrong. If Asher is the prince, I’ve already met him.
But today, a voice in my head whispered back, sounding a lot like Margaret’s, you really got to meet him.
Unfortunately, she had me there.
Fear and joy made me tremble slightly as I put the book back and turned off the light. Not so much because I had a potentially magical book by my bedside. To a point, I’d gotten used to that. But I trembled because I wondered if I dared hope… if I dared dream that I had truly met my prince.