He moves past us with a chin-jerk at Bradley, closing the door behind him.
And then we’re alone. Well, as alone as we get with my fake-dead father and a real-dead thug somewhere on the premises.
I square my shoulders and meet Bradley’s eye. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
His expression turns wary. “I think I’ve heard that before.”
This poor man. I’ve forever ruined that entrée to conversation, but it’s not too late to start over. At least I hope it isn’t.
I reach for his hand. “I love you.”
He blinks. “What?”
“I love you, Bradley.” I squeeze his fingers tight, willing him to believe me. “That part is an accident. Maybe not an accident. Maybe fate or destiny or something like that. But loving you, then choosing what to do about it—that’s a choice I never thought I had.”
I’m not sure I’m making sense, but he nods at me like he’s following. “Has something changed?”
Everything’s changed, starting with the fact that I just discovered I’m a whole lot stronger than I thought I was.
But this isn’t about me. It’s about Bradley, and the future I hope to have with him.
“There are a lot of things I’m going to need to tell you.” I think of the dead assassin somewhere in this house and decide five minutes before a wedding reception is not the time to go there. “Eventually,” I add. “But right now, I just need you to know how sorry I am.”
His eyes soften, but he’s still guarded. I don’t blame him one bit. “For what, Iz?”
“For not being brave enough to fight for you. For us, for our right to be together. But I’m done listening to anyone else. I’m done making decisions that don’t put you and me at the center of it all because that’s the most important thing in the whole world.”
He tilts his head, fingers flexing in mine. “There’s still a you and me?”
There’s a cockiness in his voice that wasn’t there a second ago. He knows damn well I want him, but he wants to hear me to say it.
Fair enough.
“Dr. Bradley Parker.” I reach for his other hand, binding us together completely. “From the first minute I met you at Bree’s wedding when I was in acute kidney failure, to the moment you gave me a pig, this has been an unconventional courtship.”
He grins and squeezes my hands. “I like unconventional.”
“Good, because I’m through with convention. Screw arranged marriages and royal titles and family expectations. Screw everything except the right to be happy with the person I love.” I bite my lip. “If he’s still willing to give me a chance.”
Bradley’s smile widens. “Are we talking about me in the third person? I got a little confused, but it sounds kinda like you’re into me.”
“So into you.” I slide my arms around his waist, daring to embrace him like I’ve wanted for days. “I never knew loving someone could happen without losing myself. But you made it happen. You give me the strength and the courage to figure out who I am, who I want to be. Then you got the hell out of my way and let me walk on my own two feet to get there.”
His chest vibrates under my cheek, and I realize he’s laughing. “If we get married someday,” he says between gulps of laughter. “That’s going in the wedding vows—‘to love, honor, and get the hell out of my way.’”
I laugh, too, but tears tickle the backs of my eyelids. I’m not sure he realizes how much this means to me. The chance to discover my own personhood, walking beside a man who’s poised to love me no matter what.
Pressing a palm to his chest, I draw back to look in his eyes. “I know it’s customary for American men to do the proposing, but I want you to know I’d marry the hell out of you any day of the week.”
“God, Izzy.” He laughs and touches my cheek. “I don’t doubt we’ll get there. And I’m going to enjoy every minute of the journey.”
“So am I.” There’s more I need to say, but we have time. So much time, stretching out in front of us like a future I never dared to imagine but always wished I could have. “I love you, Bradley.”
“I love you, too.”
Muffled applause sounds from somewhere down the hall, slow and thunderous and joyful. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing this is about to get awkward. Knowing there’s a whole lot of awkwardness to face, starting with my not-dead father clapping, and ending with the fact that I’ll have to tell my parents I’m not coming home.
But right now, in this moment, I know I can face anything with Bradley.
“Come on,” I say, slipping my arm through his and ignoring the baffled look he’s aiming down the hallway. “I’ll explain everything, but right now, we’ve got a reception to get to.”
I wonder if I’ll see Cort Bracelyn there, or if he’ll blend into the crowd. Maybe he’ll vanish into thin air the way he’s done before.
Right now, I feel the presence of family like a comforting hug. It’s the best feeling in the world, and I’m so grateful I could burst.
As Bradley slips an arm around me, I settle into the warmth of his body and the peace I’ve spent my whole life searching for.
“Let’s go,” he says. “We’ve got a future out there waiting for us.”
Epilogue
Isabella
“How do I look?”
I turn to face my mother, smoothing down the skirt of my wedding dress. It’s an off-the-shoulder silk gown with eyelash lace and a zillion seed pearls scattered down the sixteen-foot train.
“Beautiful.” The Duchess dabs her eyes, then leans in to adjust my veil. “I know it’s much more formal than you wanted, but the palace stands on tradition.”
“Not all traditions.” I smile and fasten the heirloom pearl earrings on my lobes. “Your idea to have two weddings was perfect. Hell, let’s have six more.”
The Duchess laughs instead of chastising me for the curse word, which says everything about our new relationship.
“Just between you and me,” she murmurs. “I thought your Oregon wedding was perfect. So…intimate.”
“I thought so, too.” It was exactly what I wanted, with my Bracelyn siblings rounding out the wedding party. Mark and Chelsea’s daughter, Libby, tossed rose petals down the aisle, while Kevin the pig served as ring bearer in a jaunty vest and blue bowtie.
Best of all, the groom just happened to be the man of my dreams. A soldier, a doctor, a gentleman. A man I once imagined might exist, but never dared to hope could be mine.
And now, he is.
“Having a palace wedding is nice, too,” I assure my mother. “Being part of Dovlano tradition, even if it’s not how we pictured it.”
She studies my reflection in the mirror and I study her right back. I might have the Bracelyn family’s green eyes, but there’s plenty I got from my mother. Dainty nose. Dark hair. A fierce love of family, even as my definition of family evolves.
Meeting my eyes in the mirror, she smiles. “Your makeup is perfect. You made the right decision, ignoring me.”