Page 58 of Princessa
She let out a jaw-dropped gasp, and it seemed like she didn’t speak for at least thirty seconds. “Hiswife? As in, marry you and then you become this real fucking princess and ride off in a horse-drawn carriage, birds chirping around you every day?” She sucked in a breath. “What the heck did you say, Arabella? And your answer had better started with a hell, and end with a yes.”
I chuckled because sometimes we were the same person. “It’s exactly what I said, Lauren. And I cannot believe it.”
Tears pooled in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare do it, Lauren. Because if you cry, I’m gonna start crying and, believe me, I shed enough happy tears last night.”
She looked to the ceiling, fanning her eyes. “It’s just so perfectly beautiful. You left Savannah, moved to France, then met the love of your life.”
“Sound familiar?” I teased since it’s what happened to her.
“All too, babe.” She pinned her eyes on me, eyes squinted. “You better not get married while I’m sitting here, practically chained to this bed.”
“Oh, our engagement will be a long one, but it will be announced at theCompromísGalaa—”
“Celebration of his promise to wed!” she interrupted, face beaming. “Oh, my God, Arabella. It’s like a grand engagement ball, where bride-and-groom-to-be dress in formal attire—she wears a white gown, he wears a tux, or since yours is a prince, he’ll likely wear his prince shit—and he proposes to his bride-to-be in front ofeveryone, thus making it official.” She ran the back of her hand across her forehead, as though the thought of it made her swoon.
Her rendition of the Gala was almost exactly how Grayson explained it to me last night—minus theprince shitpart, and the fact that the Royal Priest will also attend, giving us his official sacred blessing.
“When and where is yourCompromísGala? Because I need to be there.”
“It will be held at the resort in three weeks.”
She looked down at her large belly. “I’ll make it. I have a feeling Gigi won’t hold out past thirty-seven weeks anyway, which means if she’s born in two weeks, I’ll make it there. Ihaveto make it there.”
Once again tears pooled up in her eyes, and also in mine.
I swiped mine away. “Don’t you worry about that, silly. You rest up and make sure Gigi cooks up good and ready for her debut.”
We chatted about Andorra, my trip to Castle Primo, and how I fell in love with Baby Amelia, the king and queen, and the perfume launch party that was less than a week away.
“Seeing how I’m shackled to the bed, I obviously can’t make that as planned. I’ll be sending Daniella to represent Haute Couture’s presence.”
Daniella Belle-Michaels. She became the gorgeous Special Project Coordinator for Haute Couture after joining Lauren’s team as an assistant. She married the famous lingerie designer, Antonio Michaels, after the two came together—she bumped into him while riding on a train—and fell in love in the sweetest ever, Cinderella-ish fashion. She came to Lauren’s wedding at Royale Resort in Savannah, and I hugged her, hoping her luck in love would rub off on me.
“Oh, wonderful. Daniella is great at that sort of stuff. I’ll be sure to let Emma know. The two of them met at your wedding and hit it off.”
We talked more about my exclusive interview and before we said goodbye, I promised that I’d try to take a trip to see her after the perfume launch party.
Nicola and Mya showed up to pack my suitcases, and were surprised that I’d done it myself. “I told you two yesterday there is no need to fuss over me like that.” I smiled. “But can you tell me where you keep the clean sheets?”
They both snickered, hand over mouth.
“When are you coming back? We loved having you around, and Simone is bummed she had to go to school before she could bid you farewell,” said Nicola.
“I’ll be back soon, I hope. I’ve got a perfume launch party to host in the meantime.”
The three of us hugged and I could feel their warmth and generosity.
“You’re the one, aren’t you?” asked Mya, breaking our group hug. “The one he’s going to present at theCompromísGala?”
“I hope so.” Nicola beamed. “Because that Iris woman is nothing but a walking resting-bitch-face.”
I recalled Emma telling me Iris had an ugly case of fucking bitch syndrome and fought off a chuckle.
“Until the night of the Gala, no one but the King and Queen are aware of who the Prince is going to present,” affirmed Mya.
I fought the proud grin that tried its best to take over my face and only offered a shrug in response. Grayson made it clear that no one could be told of our engagement until the Gala. It was the one piece of the tradition he wanted to honor. I had to make Lauren and Jaxson swear to secrecy.
Grayson walked in with Dom and Charles, surprised to see Nicola and Mya. He gave the ladies each a hug, then the two excused themselves and stepped out of the cottage to tend to their other duties.
“Oliver has the car ready, and Finn and Camille are ready, as well. Dom and Charles are here to collect our bags while you and I head to the palace. The king and queen would like a word with you.” He pressed a kiss to my head and when Dom and Charles were out of the room, he whispered, “Take Diamond. Mom wants to meet her soon-to-be grand-kitty.”
