A few days ago, after the meeting with his parents, we stumbled back to his quarters and collapsed into bed, fully clothed. At some point, I peeled off the red dress and tossed it into a corner, where it still lies in a wrinkled heap. We slept for sixteen hours straight; we woke up long enough to eat something, have incredible sex, and then slept again. It’s like our bodies were trying to detox from months of stress.
A little over a week ago, I was banned from this country, and now the palace has released a statement, declaring the king’s full support of his son’s choice to be with whomever he wants. The internet is calling LouisThe People’s Princewhile reporters compare us to fairy tales. Our relationship has been accepted on a worldwide scale, and none of it feels real yet.
I roll over to face him. His dark hair is a disaster, sticking up in six different directions, and he has a pillow crease on his cheek. He’s staring at me, but his gaze is unfocused.
“Where are you right now?” I ask.
He blinks and looks at me. “The letter. I keep thinking about it.”
“Isabella’s letter.” I thread my fingers through his under the sheets. “I can’t believe it.”
“If it wasn’t for you, that letter might have been lost to time, along with the hidden Isabellas.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s odd how all the pieces fell into place. It’s almost like this was meant to be.”
“I believe it was. Maybe, in some weird way, your grandparents sent me to you.”
“That’s a nice thought.” Louis grins.
We lie there, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Louis and I have been given the chance they never had.
“I have something planned for today,” Louis says into my neck as he pulls me even closer.
“Oh, really?”
“Yep.” He gives me that smile, the one I fell in love with, the one that promises trouble. “It’s a surprise.”
“Fine,” I say, sliding out of bed. “Can I shower?”
“If you want,” he says. “Be quick.”
“I will,” I tell him.
It takes me all of ten minutes before I’m standing in the closet, looking at the clothes I had Kendall ship from New York.
I find some comfy jeans and a cute shirt and slide them on.
“Is this a sandals type of adventure or actual shoes?” I ask Louis.
He moves to the doorway, wearing jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a prince pretending to be a normal person.
“Never mind. How you’re dressed answers my question,” I say.
“Great. Ready?” he asks.
“Lead the way.”
He takes my hand and does exactly that.
We stroll through the palace, down corridors I recognize and some I don’t. We slip out a side door and into the gardens, then beyond them into the wild part of the grounds, where the manicured hedges give way to tall grass and ancient trees.
The path narrows as we move farther from the palace, while vines twist overhead and block out patches of sunlight. The air grows cooler,and my calves start to burn from the downhill descent. Then I hear the soft rush of water.
My pulse races because this sound can only mean one thing. We walked this path once before, in moonlight, with fireflies drifting around us like scattered stars.
We push through a curtain of hanging vines, and the waterfall appears, pouring down the rock face into that glowing turquoise pool. Smooth stones rest at the bottom, visible through water so clear that it barely looks real, and wildflowers bloom along the edges, where mist settles on the petals. In daylight, the afternoon sun throws diamonds across the surface while tiny rainbows appear in the spray. It’s even more beautiful than the memory I’ve been carrying.
“You brought me back,” I whisper.
“I had to. It’s beautiful in the morning.” He leads me toward the water’s edge, to the rocks where we sat that night, where we stripped naked and jumped in, holding hands. “This is where it really started for us.”
