I gesture at the sea of folders. “Like planning weddings and honeymoons down to the last minute.”
“Precisely. And as for the music, this is the program.”
Well, he’s shut down that conversation.
I run my eyes down the list once more. The only upbeat piece is a waltz. “Is this the final program?”
“I assumed you would appreciate the efficiency.”
“Efficiency? That’s what you’re calling it? Leaving me out of my own wedding?” I try to keep the hurt from my voice.
Fail.
His tone softens. “This isn’t personal. These decisions are based on historical precedent from both our countries. When you’re royal, your wedding is a state function, as I’m sure you know. Personal preference is a luxury neither of us can afford.”
His tone may be less harsh, but his words land like stones. I feel thoroughly reprimanded, like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I see,” I say quietly. “It’s just—” I cut myself short.
What am I going to say? That I hoped we’d lay eyes on one another and fall in love in an instant? That I hoped we’d discover we’re soulmates, brought together by an arranged marriage but always destined for each other? That I’ve always had a thing for him and hoped it could grow into something more?
I can’t say any of those things. He might laugh in my face, or worse yet, say nothing at all.
“Could we maybe compromise on one song?” I ask instead.
“What would you like?”
“It’s a song I listened to once I knew I was coming here to marry you. It’s by Vanessa Williams, and yes, I know she’s a pop star, but hopefully you’ll like it. It’s calledSave the Best for Last. Do you know it? Somehow the words seemed appropriate for us.”
“I don’t know it,” he replies, which doesn’t surprise me in the least.
“I’ll make you a mixtape,” I tell him. “It’ll be the first song.”
“A mixtape,” he repeats, as though I’ve said I’ll cut him a slice of the sky and serve it up over pasta.
“Yeah, a mixtape. You know, I find a bunch of songs I think you might like and then put them all on a tape for you to listen to.”
“I know what a mixtape is,” he replies, although I doubt he does.
“Okay.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“Well,” he says as he looks at his watch. “I think we’ve covered everything we need to today. Shall we convene tomorrow at the same time to review the guest list in detail? I’m needed elsewhere now.”
I’m certain the guest list is already finalized, too. It would seem all I have to do at my wedding is turn up.
“Of course.”
He pulls out my chair for me, like the gentleman he is. As he opens the door, he surprises me. “Asti?”
I swivel back toward him. “Yes?”
“You did well today. We covered a lot of ground.”
I smile at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
