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.”
“Thank you.” I wonder if she’s talking about more than cosmetics. I was offered the services of the Duchess’s personal makeup artist, but asked Bree to do the honors instead. My sister added a bit more flash for the Dovlano ceremony, with dabs of silver and a touch more rouge, but I still look like me.
The version of me who stood up for herself, informing the Duke and Duchess that I would not be returning to marry Prince Stefano.
I won’t lie and say it went well. Their anger wore down after a few days, but Dovlano media was relentless. Headlines blasted my selfish choice to shirk my duties and marry a man not born of royal blood.
Bradley and I took things in stride, weathering the worst of the media storm from our cozy cabin at Ponderosa Resort. It wasn’t until the Duke himself held a press conference that things calmed down in Europe.
“Listen, you pompous, gormless numpties,” he barked into the mic on the palace lawn. “Piss off and leave Lady Isabella in peace.”
And if those words weren’t enough, Dante drove the message home by lurking behind him with a fierce scowl. At his right hand, Bradley stood at attention in his Army dress uniform. He didn’t need to say a word.
It’s one thing when a woman stands up for herself, making it clear she intends to set the course of her own life.
It's another when the men in her life stand, too, declaring “get it, girl—we’ve got your back.”
Within twenty-four hours of the press conference, the media backed off.
Within forty-eight hours, Dante vanished.
“He’s fine,” the Duke assured me when I expressed concern. “Sometimes, a man just wants a new life for himself.”
It was all I could do not to think of Cort Bracelyn. To wonder if he and Dante bonded over more than just firearms and dead body disposal. It won’t surprise me to see Dante again one day, possibly in some American suburb with a wife and kids; perhaps a pig of his own.
“Here, this is for you.” My mother startles me by slipping a battered scrap of blue fabric into my hand.
I turn it over in my fingers, running my thumb over the silk edge. “What is it?”
Her eyes fill with tears, and instantly, I know.
“From Oliver’s baby blanket.” She takes a shaky breath and meets my eye. “I know there’s an American wedding custom about having something blue, but I wanted to save it for