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Surely being my princess is a step up from miserable.
“If it will keep the king and the country from looking at Linnea as the next queen, then I’m on board,” he says. “The sooner you are on the throne, the sooner Linny and I can come out and be a couple in public without worrying about how the king will react.”
He’s got a point. King Diarmuid might still be pissed when he finds out, but he won’t be able to fire Jonah or banish either of them if I’m king.
“Then we’re all in agreement,” I say.
“We are,” Jonah says. “And if we leave in the next two hours, we can get there just in time.”
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Louisiana. For a wedding.” Jonah grins. He rounds the desk and takes Linnea’s hand, starting for the door.
“Torin’s wedding?” Linnea asks.
Jonah looks back at me. “Maybe. But first…Amelia Landry is getting married this weekend.”
Amelia. Ami. Abigail’s other sister.
Obviously, that means Abigail will be in Autre this weekend.
She rarely is. In all of the times I’ve been back to Louisiana, we’ve never run into each other again.
Which is fine. She’s not interested, so that’s that.
But, if I had ever run into her, I would have asked her why she isn’t interested.
That just doesn’t really happen to me. Women like me. Hell, most people like me.
My grandfather, and Abigail Landry, are truly the only exceptions to that rule I can really think of.
I look down at Abigail’s photo on my computer screen. God, she’s so fucking beautiful. And brilliant. And amazing.
And I’m still thinking about her two years later.
So yes, I’m going to Louisiana for a wedding.
And to get myself a princess.
Chapter 4
Abigail
I’m going to be sick.
Literally.
At my sister’s wedding. In front of my entire family.
I told Ami this was a bad idea.
Actually, it would serve her right if I passed out or puked in the middle of my maid-of-honor speech. She should know better than to make me do any public speaking. Even if the “public” we’re talking about here is mostly my own family.
I was just here, two years ago, in another bridesmaid dress in this bar at another sister’s wedding reception.
Thank God I only have two sisters.
I suck in a deep breath of the humid night air behind my grandmother’s bar. I press a hand against my stomach, willing it to calm down.
