Of all the places I’d hoped Fabiana and I might share our first kiss, a ball pit in a child's indoor play area in a small town in the mountains didn't even make the list.
But you know what? I wouldn't change it for all the horrible tea in Malveaux.
Finally kissing her, feeling her soft, womanly curves pressed against me, understanding what it’s like to hold her in my arms and claim her mouth with mine, is even more mind-blowing than I'd anticipated.
And let me tell you, I'd anticipated nothing short of fireworks.
The feel of her, the scent of her, the way she responds to my touch. It makes everything worthwhile. If it hadn't been for the proprietor telling us that the road south is now open, I bet we'd still be in that ball pit together.
Although that moment was absolute physical perfection, what strikes me most is howrightit felt. How naturally she fit against me, how her laughter had dissolved into something deeper. For over a week, I've been watching her sharp wit and professional armor loosen, and in that ridiculous ball pit, surrounded by plastic spheres in primary colors, I finally saw past all of that to the woman underneath.
Fabiana has quickly become so important to me, morphing from the woman I thought I loathed into someone who has filled my heart and my mind. The transformation hasn't just been in how I see her, it's been in how I see myself. Around her, I'm not performing. I'm not the prince who has to charm his way through every interaction or the disappointment who needs to prove his worth. I'm just me.
It's nothing short of intoxicating.
The woman who once wrote scathing articles about my every misstep now knows the real me, and she kissed me back with a passion that told me none of my imperfections matter to her.
I grip the steering wheel as I turn to look at her in the passenger seat. She fell asleep a handful of kilometers ago, her face serene, beautiful. My heart expands in my chest. This woman has captivated me, mind, body, and soul. For the first time in my life, I'm not just attracted to someone. I'm not just infatuated or temporarily enchanted. This thing between us runs so much deeper than that.
I'm falling in love, completely and irrevocably, in lovewith a woman who sees me exactly as I am, and somehow finds that worthy of her affection.
The irony isn't lost on me that my greatest critic has become my greatest champion. But perhaps that's exactly why this is so real, so solid. She didn't fall for the prince in the tabloids or the charming facade I present at state dinners. She didn’t fall for the life and soul party prince and all his antics.
She fell for the real me.
The roads opened about a couple of hours ago, and eager to see her grandmother, we collected our things from the inn, bid the townsfolk goodbye, and headed south.
We’re now driving along the plains, past fields and small towns, their church spires visible from the road. The gray of the skies has given way to bright sun, and it’s hard not to let it feel like it’s a metaphor for our new, exciting togetherness.
She stirs, her eyes opening before she stretches her arms above her head, her hands reaching toward the ceiling of my car.
“Hello, sleepyhead,” I say, and as she smiles at me, her whole face lights up and my heart expands.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“We’re about an hour from the city. You’ve been asleep for a while.”
“Have I?”
“I think I wore you out in the ball pit.”
She presses her lips together, her iridescent green eyes sparkling. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze. “It’s a date, but maybe we could choose a more romantic spot than a child’s play area next time.”
I’ve already made some plans while she’s been sleeping. A candlelit dinner on the balcony, overlooking the palacegrounds. A horse ride to the lake, where we can picnic and swim together in the warm summer sun.
“Not a ball pit?” she teases.
I laugh. “Not a ball pit.”
We spend the rest of the journey chatting about inconsequential things until we reach the busy streets of Villadorata.
“Where do you and your grandmother live?” I ask as we come to a stop at a set of lights.
“Why don’t you drive to the palace? I can make my way from there.”
“I won’t hear of it.”
