70.1
Isabel
It’s been two days since everything happened. We made it two days in the hotel room in Budapest before King Leopold had Royal Intelligence round up all of us and escort us directly to the palace.
Kev and I got a royal ass-chewing from his father. His father was more concerned with the fact that we ran off to Budapest accompanied by our bodyguards than with the fact that Kev and I were together. The royal PR team was more concerned with the fact that we basically issued a public statement un-vetted by anyone.
In the past two days, videos of Kev and I at the restaurant have gone viral. One of them was viewed over eight million times.
The cat is officially out of the bag.
We’re supposed to do an interview on a television show tomorrow. And I should be terrified. The old Isabel would be anxious and afraid. Except that I’m not. The way Kev stood in front of everyone that night, holding my hand as he told people how he felt about me – unrehearsed and speaking from the heart – gave me a confidence in us I didn’t know I could have.
And it turns out that the video struck a chord with people. Most of the public response has been positive.
My mother’s response, on the other hand…
She stands in my room now with her arms crossed over her chest, waiting for my explanation.
But I’m not going to give her one.
This time, I’m standing up to her.
“This is going to happen, whether you like it or not,” I say, watching her expression harden. “And the thing is, it’s not that big of a deal after all. Ask your PR team. People just aren’t as scandalized as you think. I’m sorry about the timing. I’m sorry this happened before your wedding. But you brought that part on yourself.”
Her jaw drops. “Isabella Kensington, how dare you suggest that I had anything to do with you and that boy sneaking around –“
Suddenly Kev is that boy.
“You invited Derek to the charity event!” I say, my voice rising. I’ve never dared to yell at her before, but suddenly I’ve found my voice. “You tried to get me to take back my cheating dirtbag ex-fiancé, but you balk at the idea of Kev and I – a man who loves me, completely and entirely – being together?”
“It’s unseemly,” she says.
I shrug, because I don’t care. “I guess you’d better get comfortable with a royal scandal, then,” I say. “Because you can either be okay with it or disown me. It’s really your choice.”
“Isabella Kensington, if your father were alive to see –“
“Don’t,” I say, holding my hand up. Anger surges through my veins. “Don’t you dare tell me my father would be appalled, because that’s not true. He’d want me to be happy. Don’t you want me to be happy? Isn’t there some part of you that wants me to fall in love? I see the way you look at Leo sometimes. I know that as cynical as you’ve become, there’s part of you that still believes in love. I know that you love him. And it’s not fair for you to not want that for me.”
The words pour out of me, more words than I thought I was keeping inside, and I take a deep breath the minute I stop.
My mother looks at me for a long time, standing still, her hands clasped in front of her. “I loved your father,” she says. “Madly. Passionately. And when he died, I thought it would destroy me. And I do see the way you look at Kev. It reminds me of what I had with your father, and that frightens me. I…”
Her voice trails off, and she blinks, standing still, like she’s afraid to move. She’s become so practiced at restraint and decorum that it makes me sad for her.
“I thought you wanted me to be miserable,” I say.
“Isabel,” she says. “Of course I want you to be happy.”
“I’m not afraid,” I say. “I love him.”
She sighs heavily. “I know,” she says. “I do know that.”
“Can you be happy for me?”
“I love you,” she says. "And I can."
It’s not perfect, but it’s enough.
Kev
"It's official," I whisper, her hand in mine as we waltz around the dance floor in the ballroom in sync with the music from the orchestra. "Now we're related."
Isabel glares at me. "Stop saying that."
I affect an exasperated sigh. "I hate when my wife tells me what to do."
"You have to stop calling me that," she says, trying to sound disapproving, but I know she's not. The corners of her mouth turn up. "The marriage was annulled, remember?"
As if I could forget. The royal lawyers went ballistic over our drunken Vegas marriage, immediately initiating the annulment, since we'd both admitted publicly that we were intoxicated.
So we're no longer married.
And now our parents are.
"Maybe I'm a little disappointed that you're no longer my wife," I whisper in her ear. She moves against me with the music, her body suddenly much too close for a waltz, less than appropriate for our parents' wedding. Especially a royal wedding.
It would be a lot more inappropriate to have a huge hard on while dancing with Isabel at the wedding reception.
Isabel just laughs. "I'm sure you'll find a way to manage," she says.
"I can think of a way you might help me manage," I say, my hand sliding up the middle of her back.
