A Princess for Christmas - Jenny Holiday Page 0,122

ordered himself to chill. He wasn’t going to do it until they were off the expressway, just in case things went to shit—so he asked her a question he already knew the answer to. “How’s your father?”

“He’s well! He’s thinking of hiring a management consultant for Morneau, if you can imagine!”

It was in keeping with Emil’s retreat from being a complete and total dick. He was still a snob, but he seemed like he was trying, both when it came to Marie and to Morneau. “Well, hey, if he wants to spend a small fortune to have someone to tell him to sell his goddamned watches online, I guess that’s his prerogative.” He smiled and winked, though, to show he was teasing. To show that he was trying, too.

“And Gabby?” she asked.

“Losing her mind with excitement—both to see you and for the big move.”

“Really?” Marie asked, and he could hear the concern in her voice. He shared it. Gabby assured him she was over the moon at the prospect of moving to Eldovia, but he worried. It was another big life change for her to absorb. But she and Marie had grown close, and, remarkably, she and Emil had taken to writing each other letters. His arrived with a ridiculously elaborate wax seal. Gabby didn’t let Leo read them but assured him they were corresponding about books.

“Really,” he assured Marie. “Your father has apparently informed her that Mr. Benz is going to help her purchase her own horse.” He snorted. “I have informed her that she’s going to have to do a lot of chores to pay for the beast’s upkeep. She’s less happy about that.” He wasn’t trying to be a stick-in-the-mud, but he was determined, as they transplanted themselves into Hallmark-land, that his sister not forget where she’d come from.

“What else?” Marie asked, giving him that look again, the one that made him feel like he was the king of the world in a way that had nothing to do with literal royalty. “Tell me everything.”

They were getting closer to home. He’d gotten off the expressway, and they were inching along in traffic on East Tremont.

He could not put this off any longer. Talking to kids was easier in cars. He remembered thinking that the day he met Marie. Surely the same logic should apply to talking to princesses in cars, but oh Jesus, there went his heart again. He cleared his throat. “Nothing to tell, Princess, but I do have something to ask.”

“All right,” she said. “Or as you Americans say, ‘Shoot.’”

“I tried to think how to do this. Probably you deserve a bigger production. I mean, of course you do. But I couldn’t figure out what that would be. Where that would be. The cabin, obviously, but we’re not in Eldovia. And I didn’t want to wait. And it’s the wrong season for the ice rink at Rockefeller Center. So, then I thought—”

He cut himself off. Listen to him. He sounded like Gabby on one of her babbling streaks. This was not the impression he was going for here, at this moment that was supposed to be . . . everything. All right. Take two. “You remember when we first met? When I was driving you around in this cab?”

“Of course.” He could hear the smile in her voice. He glanced over, and sure enough, the dimples were out.

“This is where it all started,” he said. “And this is probably the last time I’ll ever drive you around in this cab.” He took a deep breath. “So I thought this was the place I should ask you my question, which is: Will you marry me?”

She gasped like he’d announced he was taking her to a special screening of 90210. Which meant it was a good gasp. A happy one.

He grinned. “You can’t be surprised. It’s not like—”

“Yes!” she shrieked. “Yes, of course I’ll marry you, Leo!”

His grin became a laugh. He couldn’t help it. It just . . . bubbled up and out of him. “Open the glove compartment.”

“What is this?”

It tickled him how genuinely shocked she seemed about the proposal and about the tiny box he’d stashed in the glove compartment. People had been doing this for centuries. He hadn’t invented any of this.

“Oh,” she breathed when she opened the box.

“It’s my mom’s engagement ring. So it’s probably, like, negative carats—my parents were broke when they met.” It was a white gold band with a small diamond in the middle surrounded by little chips of