Epilogue – Carrie
Six months later, Saint Marenne Palace
“Are you sure this looks okay?”
I stared at myself in the full-length mirror, smoothing the non-existent wrinkles in the silk pantsuit I was wearing. It was black and a little shiny, with a white chemise visible through the open buttons of the jacket.
“You look good enough to eat,” Genny assured me.
She was dressed in a dark red dress with a fitted bodice and an A-line skirt that lifted when she swirled in a circle and – best of all – had pockets.
The royal tailor had made both of our outfits based on measurements we’d emailed, and I had to admit that she’d done a great job. I’d never had anything that fit me so well, perfectly fitted to the shape of my body.
It was my first visit to Saint Marenne, and I didn’t hate it so far. The island was stunningly beautiful, just like a postcard. And the palace… well, it was unbelievable.
I thought I’d feel out of place here, but the royal family had gone out of their way to make me feel welcome, especially Queen Evangeline. Genny’s sister and I had bonded almost immediately, both of us sharing the same dry sense of humor as well as a love for giving Princess Genevieve a hard time.
My family was disappointed that Genny and I were spending Christmas here, but this was going to be our reality now.
We’d need to split up holidays between our families with them living so far apart.
We’d arranged to come back to Seattle on December thirtieth so we could celebrate with my family on New Year’s Eve instead.
It was a good compromise, especially given that we’d spent Thanksgiving with my parents. They didn’t quite realize that Thanksgiving wasn’t a holiday in Genny’s country, so we let them think they’d won that holiday fair and square.
A quick knock sounded on the door, then Angie swept in, looking more glamorous than I’d ever seen her in a moss green dress that hugged every curve, three inch heels, and a sparkling crown on her head.
“Are you gals ready for the ‘holiday’ dinner?” she asked, making air quotes with her fingers.
I’d learned that the family celebrated with local dignitaries and extended family at a lavish banquet on Christmas Eve, followed by a night of dancing.
But on Christmas Day it was just the royal family.
All the castle staff were given the day off and the former queen and her daughters cooked a feast of their own for an intimate family dinner.
That sounded like the best part of the holiday, although I had to admit I was curious about how this fancy dinner would go.
I only hoped I wouldn’t use the wrong fork or something and embarrass my girlfriend.
I also hoped that Genny’s mother was a better cook than her daughter was.
My eyes went to my suitcase in the corner where I’d hidden an engagement ring.
I was planning to propose to Genny tomorrow morning when we were alone.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t say no – that would make for an awkward holiday.
But based on how great things had been going since we moved in together, I was pretty sure she’d say yes. I’d never been so happy.
“Before we go downstairs, there’s something I want to ask you,” Genny said.
She looked a little nervous. I glanced over at her sister, but Angie was fiddling with her cell phone, not paying us any attention.
“What?” I asked.
Genny hitched up her dress carefully, then dropped to one knee. She reached into one of the dress pockets she was so excited about and withdrew a small velvet bag.
“Carrie, love of my life, will you marry me?”
I started laughing and Genny got a wounded look on her face. I dropped to my knees next to her, holding her face in my hands so she’d look at me.
“I’m not laughing at you, Genny, honestly. Of course I’ll marry you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
She slid a simple engagement ring on my finger, which was perfect for me, then pulled me in for a kiss. I realized that Angie was recording the proposal when she laughingly said, “Keep this PG rated, kids. Mom and Dad are going to want to see this video.”
We pulled apart, smiling like loons at each other, until Genny asked, “Wait, why were you laughing?”
I pushed to my feet, pulling her after me, and led her to my suitcase, ruffling around in the pocket until I found the tiny velvet box I’d hidden there. Then I dropped back to the floor and said, “Genny, you beat me to the proposal, but I’ll ask you the same way you asked me, will you be my wife?”
Her eyes turned glassy as I opened the box to show her the antique engagement ring I’d found in a little shop in Seattle a couple of months ago. It fit her perfectly.
“I guess we really are meant to be,” Genny said softly.
“Yeah, I’m glad you stowed away in my van.”
“Me too.”
***