Page 15 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

As she leaves the room, I sit back against the plush pillows, letting her words sink in.

Home.

It’s a word I haven’t used in years—not since I left Bardstown behind and built a life for myself in Manhattan. But now, sitting here in this beautiful room, surrounded by familiar faces and the hum of small-town life, I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I’ve found my way back to it.

The dining room feels alive with laughter and the clinking of silverware against plates. Mia wasn’t kidding when she called this a “small” family dinner, but small doesn’t quite capture the warmth that fills the room.

The table is a mix of old and new—Aunt Dotty’s vintage floral plates set against Mia’s sleek, modern glassware. A candle burns in the center, its soft glow illuminating the faces around me. Ethan sits at the head of the table, his arm draped casually over the back of Riley’s chair. Across from me, Aunt Dotty holds court with her usual charm, a glass of lemonade in hand. Mia, of course, is mid-story, her gestures animated as she recounts one of her infamous adventures.

“And then,” Mia says, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin, “I told him, ‘Sir, you can’t just borrow a designer handbag for a weekend wedding!’”

The table bursts into laughter, Ethan shaking his head as Riley covers her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“You’ve always been something else, Mia,” Aunt Dotty says, raising her glass in mock admiration. “Only you could turn a scolding into an art form.”

Mia bows her head dramatically. “Thank you, thank you. I’ll be here all week.”

I laugh, shaking my head. Being here, surrounded by the people who know me best, feels good.

“So,” I say, glancing at Ethan and Riley. “Enough about Mia and her escapades. Let’s talk about you two. I’ve heard bits and pieces of your love story from Mia, but I’d like to hear it from the source for once.”

Ethan groans playfully, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been listening to Mia? No wonder you’re confused.”

Riley chuckles, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Oh, Mia’s version is probably more entertaining.”

Ethan groans, rolling his eyes. “Please don’t let her tell it again. It gets more ridiculous every time.”

Mia grins, raising her glass of wine. “Excuse me, but my version is a masterpiece of storytelling.”

Aunt Dotty shakes her head, her lips twitching with amusement. “Go on, Ethan. Tell her the real version.”

Ethan sighed dramatically but sat up straighter, a small smile on his lips. “All right, fine. So, the first time Riley and I met, I was moving into the house next to Aunt Dotty’s. I was trying to unload a truck full of boxes, minding my own business, when Riley pulled up.”

“She didn’t pull up,” Aunt Dotty chimes in, a twinkle in her eye. “She stopped, glared at his truck blocking her, and let him have it.”

Riley laughs, her cheeks turning pink. “Well, someone had to make sure the new neighbor wasn’t completely oblivious to basic parking etiquette.”

“She called me a city boy,” Ethan adds, shooting her a playful look.

“Well, you are a city boy,” Riley retorts, grinning.

Ethan shakes his head, turning back to me. “Anyway, she barely stuck around. Just told me to move my truck, huffed off, and left me standing there wondering what I’d done to tick her off.”

“I was just in a hurry,” Riley says, though the mischievous glint in her eyes suggests otherwise.

“Sure,” Ethan replies with mock seriousness. “Anyway, the second time we met, I was mowing the lawn at six in the morning. And apparently, that was the wrong move.”

“You woke up half the neighborhood!” Riley exclaims, laughing. “I marched over there to give you a piece of my mind, and you acted like I was overreacting.”

“To be fair,” Ethan says, raising a finger, “I thought it was a perfectly reasonable hour.”

“It wasn’t,” Aunt Dotty says firmly, earning a round of laughter from everyone at the table.

“By the end of that conversation,” Ethan continues, “I knew I had royally screwed up any chances of being friends with her, but look at us now.”

Riley nods, her smile softening. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Aunt Dotty claps her hands together. “Well, I think it’s a wonderful story. And proof that good things happen when you’re willing to speak your mind.”

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