20. Graham
GRAHAM
T he moment I leave Sophie, the weight in my chest feels heavier than before.
I had thought telling Sophie the truth would ease some of it—maybe even bring me some relief. But all it did was confirm what I already knew.
I might have lost her.
She needs time. She needs space. I get it. For real, I probably deserve it. But that doesn’t make it any easier to walk away.
I drive through Bardstown with my fingers clenched around the steering wheel, my jaw tight, my thoughts circling repeatedly.
I should have told her sooner.
I should have trusted her enough to let her in.
I should have done so many things differently.
My eyes flick to the clock on the dashboard—still early. I barely slept last night after returning from Alveria, and now, with everything happening, my body is running on fumes.
I need coffee.
I turn onto Main Street, pulling into the small parking lot of Bardstown Brew, the only café in town I actually like. The place is quiet most mornings, the kind of spot where no one bothers you, where you can just sit in peace and think.
Which is exactly what I need right now.
But the moment I step inside, I know something is off.
The soft chime of the door barely fades before I feel it—the shift in the air.
The hush.
The weight of too many eyes turning toward me at once.
At first, I think I’m imagining it. But then I catch the way the barista freezes mid-pour, the way the woman by the window stops stirring her tea, the way two older men in the corner whisper to each other while looking directly at me.
And then, it clicks.
No.
No, no, no.
I pull my phone out, and there it is.
The first notification flashes across my screen. Then another. And another.
brEAKING NEWS: PRINCE GRAHAM ALEXANDER MAKES RARE APPEARANCE AT HIS brOTHER’S CORONATION.
ALVERIA’S MISSING PRINCE RETURNS AFTER SEVEN YEARS.
ROYALTY IN AMERICA? REPORTS CONFIRM PRINCE GRAHAM HAS BEEN LIVING A SECRET LIFE IN SMALL-TOWN KENTUCKY.
I swear under my breath. My stomach drops. The one thing I managed to keep hidden for seven years has finally come to light. Everyone knows who I really am now.
The photos are everywhere—Isaac in his coronation robes, my parents seated in the royal box, and right next to them—me.
The same me who has spent years making sure no one in Bardstown ever knew who I truly was.
And now?
They all do.
I shove my phone back in my pocket, trying to keep my expression neutral, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
The whispers grow louder. Someone snaps a picture.
And just like that, my entire world shifts.
I turn on my heel and rush back to my truck to head home. When I pull into my driveway, my pulse is still pounding.
The moment at the café still lingers—the stares, the whispers, the realization that my cover is completely blown.
I step out of the truck, my body tense, running through what this means. I spent seven years making sure no one knew my past, that my life in Bardstown stayed separate from the title I had abandoned. And now—just like that—it’s all out in the open.
I go inside, locking the door behind me and running a hand through my hair. I need a second to think. To breathe. To figure out what I do next.
But I don’t even get the chance.
Because as soon as I turn around, there’s a knock on the door.
My chest tightens when I hear the noise. I wonder who it could be. No one ever comes to my place unannounced. Not unless?—
I pull open the door.
And my breath catches.
Sophie.
She’s standing right there, her face flushed like she ran here, her brows knit together in pure concern.
“Have you seen the news?” she blurts out, slightly breathless.
I swallow hard, nodding once. “Yeah. I have.”
She exhales, shaking her head. “Graham, everyone in Bardstown knows. The café, the bar, the bookstore—everywhere. People are talking and asking questions. The town is buzzing with it.” She looks up at me, searching my face. “Are you… are you going to leave?”
The question makes my chest ache.
Because once upon a time, I would have.
Seven years ago, I ran from the castle when the pressure became too much. A month ago, I ran from Sophie the second I realized my feelings for her were real.
But I’m done running.
I shake my head. “No.” My voice is firm. Certain. “I’m tired of running, Sophie.”
Her brows crease, like she’s trying to read between the lines.
I step forward, exhaling slowly. “Seven years ago, I left the castle because I couldn’t handle what came with my title. And a month ago, I—” I run a hand over my jaw, guilt twisting in my gut. “I did the same thing to you.”
Her lips part slightly, but she doesn’t say anything.
“I kissed you, and then I left. I didn’t explain. I didn’t give you anything but silence, and that’s on me.” My throat tightens. “I thought disappearing would make it easier, but all it did was make me realize how much I—” I pause, shaking my head. “How much I needed to come back.”
She looks away, her arms crossed, her breath uneven. “Graham?—”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in, my voice thick with regret. “I’m sorry for all of it. For not telling you who I was. For making you think you didn’t mean enough to me to stay.” I step closer, my fingers itching to touch her, to prove I’m here now. “Because the truth is, Sophie, I’ve never cared about anything the way I care about you.”
Her breath catches.
For a moment, it’s just us, standing in my doorway, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on us.
Then—she moves.
Before I can process it, she steps forward, gripping the front of my shirt, and pulls me into a kiss.
A kiss that feels like relief and frustration and everything in between.
I groan against her lips, my hands sliding to her waist, holding her tighter like I’m afraid she might disappear.
“Sophie,” I whisper between kisses, apologizing again and again against her skin, against her lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She pulls back slightly, her eyes stormy but softer now. “Ethan and Riley’s wedding is in two days.”
I nod, my forehead still resting against hers. “I know.”
A small smirk plays on her lips. “Think you can handle a Bardstown wedding, Your Highness?”
I let out a breathy laugh, shaking my head. “Not alone.”
She tilts her head slightly, studying me, before she says, softly but with certainty?—
“Then let’s go together.”
I 've stayed indoors for the past two days, letting the chaos settle.
Not that it ever fully does.
Since the news broke, my phone hasn’t stopped buzzing—calls, messages, reporters trying to get a statement. But none of that matters to me. The only people I’ve cared to speak to are my parents and Isaac, who haven’t stopped checking in on me.
I never thought I’d be the son who kept in touch. But here I am, talking to them constantly, hearing my mother’s gentle reassurances, my father’s measured words, and Isaac’s teasing jabs about how I managed to keep my identity a secret for so long.
But today—today is different.
Today, I’m going out.
It’s the morning of Ethan and Riley’s wedding, and as I adjust the cufflinks on my tuxedo, I glance at myself in the mirror. The man staring back at me is still Graham—the same man who’s built a life in Bardstown, loves working with his hands, and finds peace in the simplest things.
But now, the world knows the other part of me, too.
Prince Graham Alexander.
And for the first time, I’m learning how to be both.
I grab my car keys and step outside, the crisp morning air hitting me as I slide into my truck and head toward Mia’s house.
Because today, I have one job—picking up my date.
Pulling up to Mia’s house, I take a steadying breath before stepping onto the porch.
I barely knock before the door swings open.
Mia stands there, arms crossed, her sharp gaze sweeping over me like she’s analyzing every inch. She’s also dressed and ready for the wedding.
This is the first time we’ve seen each other since I got back since my secret got out.
And I can tell she’s been waiting for this moment.
She leans against the doorway, smirking slightly. “Well, well. Look who finally decided to show his face.”
I let out a slow breath. “Mia.”
She tilts her head. “I always knew you weren’t just some average stranger.”
I exhale a quiet laugh. “You were right.”
Her smirk fades into something more serious. “I get why you didn’t tell anyone. Everyone has their reasons for keeping things private.” Her voice drops slightly, her expression firm. “But let me make one thing very clear—if you ever hurt my sister again, I’ll make sure you never step foot in Bardstown without regretting it.”
There’s no hesitation, no bluff in her words.
I hold her gaze, nodding once. “I don’t plan on hurting her.”
Mia searches my face for a second longer before stepping aside and ushering me in.
“Good,” she says.
The moment I step inside, everything else fades.
Because then—I see her.
Sophie stands at the top of the staircase, looking like something straight out of a dream.
She wears a deep navy-blue gown that hugs her waist before flowing in elegant, silken waves. The fabric shimmers subtly under the soft morning light, catching every movement as she descends the stairs.
Her hair is styled in soft curls, cascading over one shoulder, and her makeup is subtle but breathtaking—warm, golden tones highlight the depth of her eyes, the delicate flush of her cheeks, and the soft pink of her lips.
She is, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
And I can’t look away.
She reaches the last step, and we just stand there for a second.
I swallow hard, clearing my throat. “You look…” I shake my head slightly, exhaling. “You look incredible.”
A soft pink flush creeps up her neck, but she holds her chin high, offering a small, knowing smile. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Your Highness.”
I huff a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “That nickname’s not going away anytime soon, is it?”
Mia snorts. “Oh, definitely not.”
Sophie smiles, tilting her head slightly. “Are you ready?”
I offer her my arm. “Always.”
And just like that, we step out together.
T he moment Sophie and I step into the wedding venue, the stares begin.
It’s subtle at first—just a few turned heads, hushed murmurs—but then, the weight of every single person’s gaze settles on me, like they’re all waiting to see what happens next.
I can’t blame them. For years, I was just Graham, the quiet guy who kept to himself, who worked with his hands, who built things. Now?
Now, I’m Bardstown’s very own royal secret.
Sophie tenses slightly beside me, but before either of us can say a word, Mia—always Mia—does what she does best.
“All right, people,” she calls out, clapping her hands together. “Yes, yes, he’s a prince. Let’s all take a good look—go on, get it out of your systems.”
Laughter ripples through the crowd, and just like that, the tension breaks.
I exhale, shaking my head as Sophie bites back a smile beside me.
And then, before I can fully process it, Dotty marches right up to me.
“Well, I must say, you pulled a fast one on us,” she says, looking me up and down with the kind of scrutiny that makes me feel like I’m being assessed for royal worthiness. “All these years, you’ve been a prince under our noses?”
I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.
“More importantly,” she adds, tilting her head, “how are your parents? After the accident?”
Something in my chest tightens. Of all the things people could ask me, I didn’t expect this—to be met with concern instead of curiosity. This is why Bardstown means so much to me—not as a place to escape but because the people here care… because they truly do make it a home.
“They’re doing better,” I say, my voice softer. “Recovering well. Thank you for asking.”
A few other voices chime in—Mr. Wilson and a couple of Sophie’s aunts—asking about my parents, not as royals but as people.
And then, just as quickly, the teasing begins.
“So, Prince Graham,” one of the older men says, grinning, “should we start bowing when we see you?”
“No need,” I reply, smirking. “But I wouldn’t say no to a free drink.”
Laughter erupts, and just like that, Bardstown does what it always does—it welcomes me back, no matter what title I carry.
The guests settle into their seats, and a hush falls over the crowd as the wedding march begins.
Ethan is already standing under the flowery gazebo, looking just the right amount nervous. The sun filters through the canopy of leaves, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. The entire setup—the candles, the aisle lined with delicate petals, and the fairy lights woven into the gazebo’s arch—is perfect.
And then, Riley steps in.
A collective breath is taken.
She looks stunning in a lace-trimmed gown that fits her like it was made for her and only her. Her hair is styled in soft waves, a few loose strands framing her face, and how she looks at Ethan—like he’s the only person in the world—makes it impossible not to smile.
I glance at Sophie beside me.
And my chest tightens.
She’s crying.
Not dramatic sobbing, but quiet, beautiful tears that she tries, and fails, to wipe away discreetly.
“You’re crying,” I murmur, gently squeezing her hand to comfort her.
She sniffs, dabbing at her cheek. “I can’t help it. I love weddings.”
I chuckle, my heart swelling at how much she cares for others.
The ceremony is beautiful—filled with heartfelt vows, soft laughter, and the kind of love that makes forever feel easy.
And for the first time in a long time, I think—maybe I could have this, too.
At the reception, Sophie and I weave through the crowd until we find Ethan and Riley.
The newlyweds are glowing, their hands intertwined, looking like they just stepped out of a storybook romance.
“We just wanted to say congratulations,” Sophie says, smiling.
Ethan shakes his head, looking between the two of us. “No—thank you.” He gestures to the decorated reception area and the setup Sophie worked so hard to perfect. “This wedding wouldn’t have been possible without you.”
Riley nods, squeezing Sophie’s hand. “Everything was perfect.”
Sophie blushes, waving them off. “You’re just saying that because you’re officially married now.”
“I mean it,” Ethan says, serious now. “You did all of this. You made it happen.” He glances at me, a smirk playing on his lips. “And you somehow roped a prince into helping.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “I was just the extra set of hands.”
Ethan grins. “Sure you were, Your Highness.”
Sophie laughs, and the sound settles something in me.
A little while later, as the reception picks up, I turn to Sophie and offer my hand.
“Dance with me?”
She hesitates for only a second before slipping her fingers into mine. “Okay.”
I lead her to the dance floor, pulling her in close, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other laced with hers.
We sway to the music, the laughter and conversation fading into background noise.
Then, quietly, I say, “The King and Queen are dying to meet you.”
She glances up, eyebrows raised. “They are?”
I nod, searching her face. “What do you think about visiting the castle?”
For a moment, she looks at me, her breath hitching. And I feel even more anxious awaiting her response while we dance.
Then—she pulls me in for a kiss.
Soft. Sweet. Right.
When she finally leans back, she smiles.
“I’d love to.”