CHAPTER 25 #2
"I'm not marrying Prince Archibald of Solmarina today. I'm marrying Peter. The real you, underneath the titles and the seventeen different spoons. And I'm choosing you. Not because I have to. Not because of politics or alliances or dying grandmothers guilting me into it."
"Hey," the Grand Duchess protested weakly.
"Because I love you," I finished. "Even when you're being an arrogant prince who thinks he knows better than everyone else. Maybe especially then."
Archie's hands tightened on mine. When he spoke, his voice had gone rough with emotion.
"The first time I saw you, you were standing in a coffee shop telling off a customer who'd complained about her latte temperature.
You had flour on your apron and attitude in your voice and you looked at me like I was just another inconvenience in your day.
I thought: this is going to be a disaster. "
"Romantic," I muttered.
"I was right. It was a disaster. I lied to you, hurt you, took away your choices because I was too afraid to give you real ones.
I convinced myself it was for the alliance, for my country, for the greater good.
" He released one of my hands to touch my face, his thumb brushing my cheek.
"You chose me anyway. Even after everything.
I still don't understand why, but I'm going to spend the rest of my life being grateful for it.
And being worthy of it." He was smiling now, that real smile I'd first seen in the stables when he was just Peter and I was just Betty and everything was simpler.
"I love you. I love your terrible jokes and your coffee and the way you tell my mother exactly what you think of her suggestions.
I love that you wore jeans to a state dinner and put ketchup on pasta and proposed to me in a horse stable.
I love every single thing about you, even the things that drive me crazy. Especially those things."
"If you two are done," Dad interrupted, "I believe there's a legal question I'm supposed to ask."
I laughed through the tears I'd promised Petra I wouldn't cry. "Go ahead."
"Do you take this prince to be your lawfully wedded husband? For real this time, no take-backs?"
"I do."
"And do you, take my daughter to be your lawfully wedded wife? With full knowledge that if you hurt her again, I know where you live and I'm not afraid of diplomatic immunity?"
"I do," Archie said solemnly. "And I accept the terms of the threat."
"Then by the power vested in me by the internet and the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Again." He grinned. "You may kiss the bride."
Archie kissed me, and it tasted like coffee and champagne and the beginning of something real.
The reception was chaos in the best possible way.
Chef Marcello had sent instructions for the catering that I had promptly ignored, choosing instead to have local food from my favorite restaurants.
The Grand Duchess was eating pizza and pretending not to enjoy it.
Mom was teaching Roberto how to do the electric slide.
Captain Steiner had removed her jacket and was on her third glass of champagne, which was two and a half glasses more than anyone had ever seen her drink.
I stood behind the counter one last time, making my specialty mocha for the people I loved.
I heated milk with Madagascar vanilla and Ceylon cinnamon, added Belgian dark chocolate syrup, and finished each cup with hand-whipped cream dusted with raw cocoa powder.
The same recipe I'd made the day Captain Steiner and Lieutenant Commander Vasseur had walked into my life and turned it upside down.
"You're working at your own wedding," Archie said, appearing beside me.
"I'm making coffee at my own wedding. There's a difference." I handed him his cup. "Besides, this is probably the last time I'll get to do this. Princess duties don't exactly include barista shifts."
"We could build you a coffee bar in the palace."
"You're joking."
"I'm completely serious. If making coffee makes you happy, we'll find a way to make it part of your life." He took a sip and made an appreciative sound. "Though I might request you make this for me every morning. It's unfairly good."
"Unfairly good is my specialty."
"I've noticed."
The party continued around us, this strange collision of worlds that somehow fit together.
Petra was teaching my father a Solmarian drinking song.
The Grand Duchess and my mother had their heads bent together, looking at photos on Mom's phone, probably embarrassing pictures from my childhood.
Mrs. Lawrence was explaining to Roberto that she'd known I was destined for great things ever since I'd started working here, and Roberto was nodding politely while clearly having no idea how to escape the conversation.
"Ready to escape?" Archie asked, his voice dropping lower.
"We can't leave our own reception."
"We can do whatever we want. Royal privilege." His hand moved to the curve of my back. "Besides, I have plans for you that don't involve an audience."
Heat curled through me. "What kind of plans?"
"The kind that require a locked door and significantly fewer clothes." His lips brushed my ear. "I've been thinking about getting you out of that dress since you walked down the aisle."
"It's not even that complicated a dress."
"I know. That's what makes it so tempting. One zipper and you're mine."
I should stay. Mingle with guests, make more coffee, be a good hostess. But Archie's hand was on my back, and his voice was doing things to my composure, and I'd been wanting him since the moment I'd decided to stay.
"One hour," I said. "Then we come back and say goodbye properly."
"An hour might not be enough."
"Then you'd better work fast."
We slipped out the back door, past Roberto's knowing look and Petra's hastily hidden grin. The hotel was three blocks away. We walked fast, Archie's hand tight in mine.
"I can't believe we're sneaking out of our own wedding," I said.
"I can't believe it took us this long to do it."