Page 66 of The Wanted Prince

“I always knew it’d be you two,” said Dom. “Who else would put up with Alessandro?”

Alessandro elbowed him, and Dom elbowed back. Both of them laughed, and I laughed along with them — my new family. My future husband and brothers.

The champagne arrived, and Father went for it. One of Alessandro’s uncles darted in first, and he smirked down at Father as he popped the cork. Mother hoisted an empty glass to claim the first toast.

“To the new couple!”

“Alessandro and Laura!”

“Shouldn’t the king toast first?”

“Oh, those Cardonas…”

I watched them pick and bicker. “You think they’ll ever get along?”

Alessandro laughed. “As well as any big family.”

The king made the next toast, and Father found fault with it, too cheerful by half for such a momentous occasion. Dom picked on Father’s toast, dry as old boards. Alessandro smiled at me.

“Kind of comforting, isn’t it? Some things never change.”

My heart swelled, and I knew he was right. I’d loved Alessandro most of my life, first as my only friend in a strange, hostile world, then as my first crush, and now, my whole world. In some ways, our love had changed: it had grown and bloomed. And it would blossom still further as we grew as a family. But the trust I’d found in him, the warmth, the safety, that would never change. The heart of our love.

EPILOGUE

EIGHTEEN MONTHS LATER: ALESSANDRO

Iwoke up early on the day of our wedding, and my first thought was huh? Where’d he go?

I’d drifted off with my son in my arms, and I’d have sworn I’d barely blinked, but the first light of dawn was pink in the sky, and my arms were empty. Emilio was gone. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked down at myself. Royalty or not, I was every inch the new father, my shirt blotched with spit-up, one button pulled off.

“Emilio?” I called.

“I’ve got him,” said Laura. She came in from the bedroom, bouncing him on one hip. “He was stirring, and I thought we’d let you sleep a little longer. We’ve been having our breakfast, haven’t we? Haven’t we?”

Emilio gurgled and grabbed for her hair. He was a grabber, had been from the start. Anything shiny or fuzzy or there, our grabby boy had to have it for himself.

“Ouch,” Laura said. “Gently, don’t tug.”

Emilio tried to cram her hair into his mouth. She tickled his tiny fist to make him let go, and he squirmed and giggled and kicked his plump legs.

“Let me take him,” I said. “You need to get dressed.”

Laura sat down beside me on the nursery couch, and leaned up against me and let Emilio crawl over. He grabbed my tie right away and tried to eat it. Laura passed me his teething ring.

“Here. Try this.”

I popped the ring in Emilio’s mouth and he gummed down on it. I laughed.

“Is that good?”

Emilio cooed at me.

“He’s definitely teething,” Laura said. “He’s been so drooly lately, and more fussy than usual.” She laid her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. “At least he’s through his night-owl phase. At least for now.”

“Don’t jinx it!’” I groaned at the memory of those long, sleepless nights, Emilio up giggling, wanting to play. Screaming blue murder if no one got up. He’d timed that phase for the end of my paternity leave, so I’d be up all night with my loud, jolly son, then up all day training my replacement.

Our first private moment after Hugo’s confession, and Laura’s announcement, and our engagement, Father had taken me into his study.

---