Chapter Twenty-One
Enrique opened his eyes to brilliant morning light pouring through the doors to his bedroom. Contentment was mingled with a sense of elation.
He patted the bed beside him, and then lifted his head.
Gabriela was gone. His initial reaction to her absence was alarm, but then he realized she had probably slipped away in case Marcello’s habit was to come in here in the morning.
It wasn’t, but he thought someday—especially if Gabriela was part of their lives—it would be.
He pictured that for a moment, the three of them, maybe on a Sunday morning, with newspapers and books.
A family, the way she and Marcello and Guido had been that first morning that he had seen her again.
He closed his eyes, and relived that one moment from last night that rose above all the others.
I love you.
He did not know until he heard those words that he had waited his entire life for them, and that a part of him had always known it would be her that would speak them.
Those words had felt like an anointment. They had oozed over him, and moved inside him, as beautiful as warmed oil and honey.
He had not expected last night, which, of course, had made it all the more exquisite, but it had not been what he planned as he had courted her this week, deliberately holding back, intending to treat her only with the complete honor of the woman he hoped to marry.
Of course, there were obstacles. He had known this all along. The biggest one would be his mother, his intention to do the unthinkable, which was to thwart convention, to stand in the face of strict traditions and expectations, and say, No, I will claim this part of my life for myself.
I will have love. I will not sacrifice it again.
In doing so, he was aware he would teach his son the most important lesson of all. While a man had duties and responsibilities, in the end his biggest obligation was to be true to himself and to acknowledge the power of his own heart.
Enrique smiled, the battle he needed to win well worth the future he envisioned. Married to Gabriela. Waking up to her. Sharing life with her. Someday, there would be more babies, brothers or sisters for Marcello.
But first, he needed to make his intentions known to the Queen.
As it turned out, not surprisingly, his mother was unavailable.
He knew from long experience there was no penetrating the fortresses Mabel set up around his mother.
But, what did a small delay matter? He was not asking his mother’s permission, he was telling her how it was going to be.
He would move ahead with his plans, and announce them to her later.
Enrique had been debating all week how to go about the proposal, what to do about the ring.
He had all of the crown jewels at his disposal, of course, but it didn’t feel right, somehow.
Those rings had been worn by others. They were steeped in the history and tradition of the monarchy on this island.
Enrique felt as if he and Gabriela were starting something brand-new, and that the ring should reflect that. In fact, maybe she should help to pick it.
But he dismissed that idea almost as quickly as he had thought of it because there was one more tradition he was eagerly anticipating.
And that was getting down on one knee, and holding a ring box out to her, asking her to be his wife, to walk through life with him.
He wanted to run across the garden and be with her, to lift her in his arms, and experience what it was like to see her through the new eyes of her lover.
But no, he wanted so much more than that.
If he went to her now, he would blow everything. He might just blurt out how he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. No, he wanted this occasion to be special, to be a moment she looked back on for the rest of her life with sweet joy in the memory.
He picked up the phone beside his bed. “Phillipe, cancel my engagements for today. Notify the jet crew that I need to go to Madrid.”
He thought of the jewelry stores there, of the famous Venetian style that both reflected their heritage and was exquisitely beautiful. He held up his hand, and saw the faint tremor in it. That’s how big getting everything just right felt.
He went and checked on Marcello, who was in the nursery, still in his pajamas, already deeply involved in a card game with Darla.
“I have to go away for the day,” he said. “It’s unexpected.”
Marcello barely spared him a glance, and Enrique reflected that for all the changes in his life and for all the extra time he had created trying to be a better father, the improvements between him and his son seemed barely discernible.
Gabriela, he thought, would work her magic. Some things—perhaps the things people longed for the most—took the greatest amount of time.
His trip to Madrid was swift. Phillipe had arranged for private appointments with several extraordinarily exclusive jewelry designers.
His heart stopped when he saw the one. Diamonds and sapphires formed a blue butterfly. For a complex design, the ring was breathtakingly simple. He took it immediately.
He tried to gain an appointment with his mother again on his return, but again he was stonewalled by Mabel. However, it felt as if there was someone’s approval that he needed far more than that of his mother.
As he walked the familiar path between the palace and the cottage, it seemed as if every memory he had ever had of him and Gabriela walked with him, like the ghosts of their younger selves skipped along, delighted.
He was shocked at how nervous he felt.
Of course, he had to take Guido aside first. He had to ask his permission to marry his daughter.
Did Guido think he was man enough for this? Would he approve?
His heart hammering in his throat, a few minutes later he knocked on the cottage door. After a moment, a hoarse voice asked him to enter.
As soon as he walked in, he knew something was wrong. Guido looked white and strained, and Maria had obviously been crying.
“What’s happened?” he asked. At first, he thought maybe it was the cat, but then Geraldo appeared and stalked over to him, winding his way around Enrique’s pant legs.
Maria got up from the table, and picked up the cat. “My apologies, Your Highness,” she said.
Her apologies? What was going on? Why was he catching an overtone of anger? Not like she didn’t want the cat shedding hair on him, but as if she didn’t want her cat touching him.
“Guido,” he asked, desperate, “have you received bad news? About your health?”
“I have received bad news,” he said quietly, “but not about my health.”
Slowly, he pushed a piece of paper to the edge of the table.
Enrique picked it up.
He could feel his heart shattering into a million pieces. Gabriela was gone. He read the note like a man caught in a nightmare.
A new career opportunity.
Her work with Marcello done.
Guido gave Enrique a look that was so sad and so defeated, and right underneath that look was the accusation.
This is your fault.
Guido pointedly turned over the newspaper in front of him. On the front page was a photo of Princess Bettina coming out the door of her private plane on the Hermosa Mariposa runway.
The headline blared “Romance in the Air?”
Their planes must have practically touched wings.
He looked from Guido to Maria, and saw the assumption in their faces. That he had spent the day, as that headline insinuated, with the visiting Princess.
He wanted to tell them the truth. That he hadn’t even known Bettina was coming. He didn’t even know if she was still here.
He wanted to show the Oliveras the ring that felt as if it was burning a hole in the suit pocket next to his heart.
But the sense that had been building in him with Gabriela—of being loved, of having family, of coming home—felt as shattered as his heart.
They knew him. This family knew him.
Gabriela knew him.
Or maybe they didn’t, at all.
Because if they did, how could they believe the absolute worst of him? How could they believe he would woo Gabriela and be open to a romantic visit from another woman at the same time?
Stunned by the level of betrayal he felt, he turned stiffly, left the small kitchen, shut the door with a firm snap behind him.
As soon as he departed, he went to the palace and took the stairs, two at a time, to his mother’s office.
Mabel, of course, was on guard in the outer office.
“The Queen is not receiving.”
He ignored her, went and rapped firmly on his mother’s office door and strode into the room.
His mother was at her desk, Beau at her feet.
“Oh,” she said, “Just who I wanted to see.”
As if she had not been refusing his requests to see her!
“Princess Bettina is here—”
“So I hear,” he said tersely.
“And I was planning an informal dinner tonight for you and—”
“No,” he said quietly.
She arched an eyebrow at him.
“No,” he repeated. “I told you I would no longer brook interference in my personal life, and I meant that. I am in love with Gabriela Olivera and I intended to ask her to marry me.”
She caught the past tense. “Intended?”
“She left the island unexpectedly, I suspect because of Bettina’s arrival.”
“So, she understands what you do not. I admire a woman who is able to make sacrifices.”
His anger at Gabriela crumbled away when he saw her departure in that light. She was trying to do the right thing. For him. The love he felt for her in that moment made him feel stronger than he ever had.
“I’m going after her,” he said.
“Enrique,” his mother said, with elaborate patience, “this is not how things are done. Our world is not one of decisions rooted in passion, rather than reason. Our systems work, and they work for a reason.”
“Do you hear yourself?” he asked softly. “All the world reduced to a system that works? A world devoid of passion? And spontaneity? And love? What kind of world is that?”
“It’s presumptuous to think two people can change the way things have always been.”
“Perhaps it is presumptuous,” he agreed, his voice soft, “but it’s not two people. It’s bigger than that.”
His mother was silent, so he continued.
“It’s the biggest thing of all. It’s the only force that really changes anything, ever. Love.”