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My esteem for him may go down a notch due to the timing of this proposition. But yet, I cling to the idea that I can change his mind. He may grow to like me.
Oh, get your head on straight, girl. Marriages don’t work like that.
Enjoy the status while you can. Fix Daddy’s business, and move on with your life.
Get over him.
Etienne has no idea I’m in love with him, so I still have my pride. And I’ll be fine, in the end. He may be a drunk, but there are systems in place that will assure that I’m taken care of after all this. My brief time at his side won’t be wasted.
And yet, can I get over this hard-wired, bone-deep need? My body recalls the wicked sweep of his tongue over my lip. He may not care about me, but he likes to play, doesn’t he? The man might like to kiss me again. I won’t resist him. I’ll never resist him.
There’s always the option to play along before he cuts me loose. I can guard my feelings until then. Or bottle them up, at the very least.
My head swirls with thoughts and my stomach is in knots before we arrive at the banquet hall back at the palace. The procession down the main thoroughfares of the capital city is lined with so many happy, celebrating faces that I almost forget this whole thing is a sham.
Hailey and Flora deserve all the credit for getting me through the reception: bustling my dress, freshening my makeup, making sure I sit, eat, and have an extra pair of comfortable shoes to change into. Everyone assumes this is the happiest day of my life, but it feels like a funeral.
It’s not until Etienne and I share a silent drive to the hotel that I realize something. There was no first dance. No speeches. And then the worst part of all hits me.
“I didn’t get any cake,” I say, sitting up straight. Etienne looks over at me, his eyes glazed over from whatever he drank at the reception.
“You what?”
“We never fed each other cake. They just cut it and passed it out to the guests but I didn’t get any cake!”
“Okay,” he says, narrowing his eyes.
“Did you get cake?”
“I think so? Not sure. But I am hungry now that you mention cake.”
I roll my eyes and stare at the passing buildings, pasting on my smile for the cameras.
“Driver, turn around; we forgot the cake!” Etienne shouts, leaning over the front seat.
“Leave it alone. It doesn’t matter,” I say.
“Bullshit. My wife wants cake; we’re getting cake.”
I bite my lip. “Etienne, I was just pointing it out; it’s fine. You don’t have to make a fuss.”
The driver apologizes and says there’s no way to make a U-turn or even drive around the block as all the side streets are closed for security.
“Dammit!” Etienne seems inordinately upset about this, and it’s rather touching. “I bet that beefcake Uther would turn the car around for my bride.”
I can’t help myself: I snort a laugh. Does my husband have a crush on the monarch’s head of security?
I reach over and pat his arm, noticing how natural it feels to touch him. Sigh.
I offer, “It’s really okay.”
He turns to me, fire in his eyes. “Do you want cake or don’t you?”
Blinking at him, I suggest, “There’s a Lidl grocery store around the next corner.”
Etienne scoffs. “Supermarket cake on your wedding day?”
“Why not?”
