“What? You’re my wife. My memories will carry me through my tour. I love that they’ll be mine, all mine. No one knows to ask, ‘Ow’s the missus?’ When I get a goofy grin on my face, they’ll just think I ate too much succotash.”
“My, my, such high praise. I equate with your love of succotash.” Corina popped his shoulder gently, laughing, blushing. “I’ll have my own private memories too. But I’ll take the card. It’s so lovely. And a souvenir from our Hessenberg wedding night.”
“Sorry we can’t do more, love,” Stephen said. “But when I’m back from my tour, we’ll sort our marriage out with Dad and the Parliament. You’ll select a ring from the royal jewels. Then we’ll have a proper party. Fit for a prince and his princess.”
“Stephen, I don’t care. You know that, don’t you? As long as I’m yours.” She kissed him with ardent love. “Is it real? You’re all mine?”
“Very real. You’ve captured my heart, love, and we’ve our whole lives to make memories.” He blessed her temple with a brush of his lips. “But until then, you have this as a reminder.” Stephen held up the card, walking toward the sales counter.
If the shop owner recognized him, he said not a word. Now Corina opened the card, tears pooling in her eyes as she read the simple verse.
To say I love you is more than mere words.
’Tis a truth in my heart.
I love you, my darling, and you’ve married me.
And we will never be apart.
Beneath the rhyme, they each signed the card. Their signatures represented their final pledge to one another.
Corina tossed the card across the bed. What a crock. It was all a lie. Stephen only loved when it was fun, easy, and convenient. When some mysterious obstacle arose?Bam, he was gone.
She reached for the ribbon and roped it around her ring finger. Since they didn’t exchange wedding rings, Archbishop Caldwell offered Stephen the ribbon to tie around Corina’s finger as he repeated his vows.
Stephen was so apologetic he’d not planned more thoroughly for his proposal.“But I promise . . . any jewel you want when I return.”He’d held her face in his hands and kissed her over and over.
Truth was Corina had her own family heirlooms to bring to their union. Her great-grandmother Del Rey’s diamond engagement ring had once been on display at the Smithsonian. But how Corina loved the ribbon and the tender, sweet, romantic moment it represented. She held up her hand and listened . . .
“I pledge to you my love and fidelity, my honor and trust, to cherish you until death parts us.”
The heiress and the prince. They were meant to be. In love. Forever. They were going to make it, defeat the odds of wealth and power pulling a modern couple apart.
Both of their parents had a loving relationship. Well, hers did until Carlos died.
Corina tucked the ribbon back in the envelope. How could she have been so fooled by him?
The third memento rested inside the envelope. A large color photo of them at the Military Ball, the night of Stephen’s proposal. One of Corina’s friends had taken the shot with her iPhone and texted it to her. “Save to show your grandchildren. The night you danced with a prince.”Oh, little did she know . . .
Corina had printed it out and framed it, setting it by their bed in her flat, treasuring all the image represented.
Now, out of its frame and folded into quarters, Corina smoothed the picture on her bed. The image, bent and creased, caught her in Stephen’s arms, in their element, the emotions of their hearts all over their faces. Relaxed, laughing, in love.
She was surprised the press didn’t catch on that night. But Stephen had a clever and keen way to stay out of the media’s eye.
Lying back on her pillow, Corina held up the photo, allowing some of her sentiment to remind her how she felt that night.
Stephen was striking and swoon worthy in his dress uniform. She looked free and happy, wearing the heck out of the white, feathery Luciano Diamatia. Mama had moved heaven and earth to have the gown made for Corina’s society debut when she turned eighteen, using every wily prowess in her vast arsenal to lure the world’s most exclusive and reclusive designer out of hiding to sew her daughter alittle ole dress.
But the designer failed to deliver the gown on time for her debut. Mama was fit to be tied. Corina almost wore it in the Miss Georgia contest, but Mama feared it’d start a riot with the other girls.
But five years later, when Corina moved to Brighton to be with Carlos as he trained for the international peace task force, she packed the dress, obeying the still small voice telling her she might need it.
The rare, precious gown was one of Corina’s most prized possessions. Because the first and only time she’d ever worn it, she wed her true love.
Corina lowered the photo and stared at the ceiling. Maybe theyhadjust been caught up in the moment, swept away in the romance, the drama of being able to marry simply because they wanted.
She sat up. But no, when he proposed atop the Braithwaite Tower, Corina had absolutely no reservations or doubts.
