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“Not the same.”
“No? What makes you say they were different?”
“You saw me in your dreams.”
“You didn’t see me?”
“I didn’t see myself.”
“But we were here.”
I breathed in her scent, wrapped my arms around her, making sure I wasn’t dreaming now. I kissed her cheek and down her neck. “I will be right back, my love. Will you wait for me?”
“I would’ve waited forever, Cortez. I’m so relieved you didn’t make me.”
I slowly ran my fingers down her arm until we no longer touched and hurried into the bedroom. In the corner, there was an old wooden chest that had belonged to my grandmother on my father’s side—also a queen.
I pulled out a small wooden box and a smaller one from inside it. I put it in my pocket and went back out to where Kensington waited.
Rather than sitting beside her, I got down on one knee. She gasped and brought both of her hands to her mouth.
“Francesca Alexandra Kensington Whitby, will you marry me?”
“Oh, yes.”
I opened the box and took out the ring that had been left to me by my grandmother. “No other has worn this ring since Queen Sofia.” I took her hand and slid it on her finger. The platinum setting held five pear-shaped diamonds and eighteen brilliant-cut diamonds. It fit Kensington’s finger as though it was made for her.
Tears fell from her eyes as she studied it. “It’s exactly how it looked in my dream.”
33
Kensington
Cortez and I made love all night and then slept past noon. It was the first time we’d been at the house all by ourselves, and I loved it.
“How long will Marta be away?” I asked when we rode the lift to the lower level in search of food.
“I’m not certain she will be coming back.”
“Because of me?” I gasped.
“No, no,” he answered, cupping my cheek. “She is ready to retire and spend more time with her sister and her sister’s family.”
“Oh.” I tried not to pout as I looked longingly at the homemade pastries she left for us.
“It’s one of many things you and I need to talk about in the coming days.”
“That sounds ominous.” I reached out and snatched a crumble cake. Cortez took a bite of it. “Hey, that was mine.”
“What’s mine is ours, and what’s yours is ours. Except not everything.”
I sat down at the table and took a sip of the tea he set in front of me. “That sounds worse than ominous. We just got engaged last night, and we’re going to talk about a prenuptial agreement this morning?”
“Let me rephrase. What’s mine is ours. Some things that are yours, will remain yours alone.”
“How is that fair?”
“Because some of those things were passed down from your family.”
