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“Good.” He fingered his coat pocket. Maybe it was time to show her exactly how long he wanted to make her happy for. But first, she had to admit she wanted to marry him, at least a little bit. He had to know he wasn’t in this alone. “Then why don’t you want to marry me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to.”

“Then why—?”

“Because it’s not fair.” She set her cup down, and the lights flashed off and on. “We kissed. We had sex. It was fun. That doesn’t mean we need to live happily ever after, like in a fairytale. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life with me when I walked up to you in the coffee shop, and you didn’t plan on forever when we had sex. We even talked about all that beforehand. It’s not what you wanted. What either of us wanted. We were just having fun.”

“Fun,” he echoed. “Just fun.”

She hesitated. “Right?”

So that’s all she viewed him as. Fun. That’s all he’d ever tried to be, really, ever since the war had fucked him up. But still. He’d thought she might see him as something more. The lights flickered for the third time. “Right. That’s all I ever do. All I am.”

She glanced away, a flash of something in her eyes. Disappointment, maybe? “Exactly. You told me that ahead of time, warned me it was only for a night or two. I agreed to your terms. I won’t break them.”

He had said that, yes. But that had been before her.

Now, for some inexplicable reason…he didn’t feel the same. But she did.

He glanced away. “We could be happy, I bet.”

“We probably could be.” She squeezed his knee. “But, like I told you, I should marry someone that would make my country stronger…not someone who makes me happy, no matter how happy he might be making me.”

His chest hollowed out. “So that’s why you’re refusing to marry me? Because I can’t bring enough money to your country.”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” She covered her face. “Maybe we need to g—”

The music started up, and the curtains lifted.

She broke off, clasping her knees tight.

He let out a breath, not sure what she’d been about to say, but not wanting to hear it anyway. He’d been so sure he was doing the right thing, but maybe he wasn’t. Maybe she really didn’t want to marry him—not because she felt bad.

But because she really didn’t want him.

Chapter Thirteen

Isabelle stared at the empty stage, still feeling like a complete and utter fool. Gordon had left to get them more drinks, and she was alone with her thoughts. Those thoughts were not very kind at the moment. He’d kept asking her why she didn’t want to marry him, and she’d kind of…panicked.

Princesses don’t panic.

He’d told her he had a question for her right before he’d ducked out for some drinks. From the way he kept touching his pocket, she had a feeling she knew exactly what he had in there. A ring. He was going to propose. She had no doubt about it. The thought of him going down on one knee and asking her to marry him filled her with so much excitement and joy, she could barely stand it.

But she couldn’t let him do it.

He was only doing it because he felt guilty. Because he thought she needed him to swoop in and rescue her. She didn’t. She’d be fine on her own, without him sacrificing everything for her. Without him giving up his freedom. His country. His life.

How could she let him do all of that?

Princesses don’t let people sacrifice everything for them, but they must be prepared to sacrifice everything for the people.

Right now, he might think he wanted this. He might even think it would make him happy. But it wouldn’t. He didn’t love her. He didn’t need her. And she had to remember that, no matter how much she’d come to care about him. It was best for him to think she didn’t want to marry him because she was a snob.

Then he’d walk away.

A footstep sounded behind her. She took a deep breath, crinkling her dress in her hands, then letting go. “About earlier, we need to talk.”

“You’re right. We do need to talk.”

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