The Prince's Bride (Part 1) - J.J. McAvoy Page 0,57

to make sure the number was correct. Yes, I heard his voice, but this was odd. “Are you writing a book, Arty? It’s fate. That’s your big advice? That does not help me at all. As I said, the problem here is not me. It is her.”

“I guess you are going to have to figure out how to change that.”

“Goodnight, Arthur, and stop calling me so much.” I yawned, hanging up on him and tossing the phone to the side.

She is the one. I snickered, burying my head into my pillow. Note to self: do not ask Arthur for romantic advice.

Tomorrow, I’d try another date.

And the day after that, and the day after that.

She just needed to get to know me better.

Once she did, I’d win her over. She wouldn’t be Odette, the cold-hearted with me.

Rising back up quickly, I marched to the door and wrenched it open. “Iskandar.”

“Yes, Your Highness?” he said, rising from the couch below.

I stared at the pillow and sheets that were now his makeshift bed, confused. “Wait, why are you sleeping there? There are three bedrooms here, correct?”

“One is for you, the other is the personal one of Ms. Wyntor—and I do not believe she would be comfortable with that—and Wolfgang is using the other.”

Right on cue, I heard the snoring come from the other side of the door beside me. “I said not to lecture him. That did not mean pampering him, either.”

“No pampering, sir. We alternate. I slept there last night,” he answered.

“Just share the room. I do not want you snoring later because you did not get good enough rest.”

“Was that all you needed, sir?”

Oh, right. “I want to send more flowers to Odette in the morning. I want them to be there before she wakes up. I know it is late, but is it possible?”

“We will make it possible.”

Chapter 14

“Well, how was it?” my mother asked me when I got home...well, back to her home.

But I just couldn’t talk right now.

I felt like I was still dancing with him. In my mind, I was going through the whole night.

Walking upstairs, I was glad she didn’t follow me. I still really needed the space. I was glad I had called for a Lyft instead of going back with Wolfgang. He looked so panicked like he could not possibly allow me to go back to my home. We were in my city. He even called over Iskandar as I was calling for another ride to try to talk me out of it. I quickly told them I was going somewhere else before he went back upstairs to call Gale.

And I did go somewhere else. I went to the Great Wheel.

It was my favorite place in Seattle. And I sat there going around and around by myself, looking out at Elliott Bay until they closed, hoping I would have some epiphany. What was I supposed to do with my life? Did I deserve all the great things in my life? What was the meaning of life? I tried to think of anything to avoid the question—did I want to see the Prince of Ersovia again? Did I want to try dating him? We had a date, and it was probably the best one I had been on in years. He said he was going to keep trying, but did I want him to? If I really hated it, I shouldn’t have gone out with him at all. If I really hated this arrangement, why was I so excited to see how far he would go? If I put my foot down and said no, seriously, honestly, and intensely, my mom and even he would have to back off, right?

He even said it.

All the power was in my hands.

And yet, I was unsure.

To date or not to date. That was the question. And I went about asking myself that in the most dramatic of ways, but it worked. I got my answer, and now I was back home.

Falling onto the bed, sighing, tossing, and agonizing like a teenage girl, but the truth of the matter was I wanted to date but not date. I wanted to get to know him more, but I was worried about getting to know him more. I didn’t want to get married, and yet, I didn’t really mind getting married.

“Why am I like this?” I whispered, putting my hands on my face.

Why was I a wishy-washy person? My mother was a decisive person. My father was a decisive person. What