I release a sigh, wrapping my arms around Dante. He holds me tight, laying a soft kiss in my short hair.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod. “Yeah. I’m happy for her. I just wasn’t expecting it all to happen so fast, but I guess it makes sense.”
The Prince pulls away, staring into my eyes. They’re bright and clear, but unreadable. He parts his lips, sliding his tongue out to moisten them, but says nothing.
As we stand there, I can’t help but wonder if he wants to be my husband, and if he, too, is wondering how long it’ll take the two of us to reach that point.
If we ever will.
I slide my arms around his neck, and the Prince leans his forehead against mine. Closing my eyes, I soak up the love that shines from him. He makes me stronger.
In that moment, I realize that I need to tell him the truth about the baby’s father and about my illness. I need to tell Ivy, too, and I need to do it soon.
I’m sick of having secrets. Sick of carrying them on my own. Sick of holding myself back from true happiness with Dante.
Most of all, I’m sick of wondering if he’ll still be there for me if he knows the truth about the baby, and about my Huntington’s disease diagnosis.
It’s my illness that worries me. How can I expect a man to accept me like this? How can I expect him to agree to be with me…and how can I ask him to stick by my side? Being with me means agreeing to a life as a caretaker. It means seeing me deteriorate, and watching my personality change. It means watching me die early.
Doesn’t he deserve better?
When the Prince presses his lips to mine, it feels like he hears my thoughts. It’s like he can sense a shift inside me, and he’s telling me opening up to him is the right thing to do.
I have to tell them the truth, and I will—after the wedding.
Today is Ivy’s day.
Tomorrow, I tell Dante the truth.
23
Ivy
Margot, Giselle, and Georgie are staring at me, eyes misty, hands clasped to their chests, smiles splitting their faces open. My heart is overflowing.
“I know,” I smile, glancing in the mirror. Melissa touches up my hair one last time, her eyes full of tears.
I take a deep breath. “Everything has happened so fast, but it feels right.”
Margot takes a step toward me and squeezes her hands on my shoulders. “I’d hug you, but I don’t want to mess up your hair and makeup.” Her bottom lip trembles, and she shakes her head. “I’m going to start crying.”
“Thank you for being here.” I glance at the twins. “All of you.”
“Of course,” Giselle says, slinging her arm around her twin. “We wouldn’t miss it for anything in the world.”
“How’s everything at the bakery? Your brothers will be okay for a few days on their own?” I ask.
“Stop thinking about work,” Georgie replies, laughing. “It’s your wedding day. Everything at the bakery is fine. Irving is there full-time, and you know he’s been managing restaurants his whole life.”
I nod, taking a deep breath. A soft knock on the door makes us turn our heads, and my father pokes his head through the door.
“Dad!” My eyebrows jump up.
Margot stiffens.
“Hi, honey,” he says, stepping through the door.
“I didn’t know if you’d gotten our invitation. I thought you were still at sea.”
“Cut my sailing trip short,” he says. “I couldn’t miss my daughter’s wedding!” My father wraps me in a hug, obviously not worried about my hair and makeup.
He turns to Margot, nodding. “Hello.”
“Hi, Dad.” They hug each other awkwardly, and my heart sinks.
We haven’t spoken to our father very often since he left Farcliff. Once Margot made enough money after Mama died, he took off on his own. I sent an invitation to him for the wedding, but I didn’t even hear a response. I assumed he hadn’t gotten it.
He must have been close to Argyle to make it here on such short notice.
Margot and I haven’t talked about our father very often, but I think she resents him leaving. As Margot and I grew closer to each other through our pregnancies and everything that has happened in the last few months, I’ve realized just how isolated my sister was. I thought her life was a dream, but I’m starting to think she’s