Page 76 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

The moment Sophie and I step into the wedding venue, the stares begin.

It’s subtle at first—just a few turned heads, hushed murmurs—but then, the weight of every single person’s gaze settles on me, like they’re all waiting to see what happens next.

I can’t blame them. For years, I was just Graham, the quiet guy who kept to himself, who worked with his hands, who built things. Now?

Now, I’m Bardstown’s very own royal secret.

Sophie tenses slightly beside me, but before either of us can say a word, Mia—always Mia—does what she does best.

“All right, people,” she calls out, clapping her hands together. “Yes, yes, he’s a prince. Let’s all take a good look—go on, get it out of your systems.”

Laughter ripples through the crowd, and just like that, the tension breaks.

I exhale, shaking my head as Sophie bites back a smile beside me.

And then, before I can fully process it, Dotty marches right up to me.

“Well, I must say, you pulled a fast one on us,” she says, looking me up and down with the kind of scrutiny that makes me feel like I’m being assessed for royal worthiness. “All these years, you’ve been a prince under our noses?”

I open my mouth to respond, but she cuts me off.

“More importantly,” she adds, tilting her head, “how are your parents? After the accident?”

Something in my chest tightens. Of all the things people could ask me, I didn’t expect this—to be met with concern instead of curiosity. This is why Bardstown means so much to me—not as a place to escape but because the people here care… because they truly do make it a home.

“They’re doing better,” I say, my voice softer. “Recovering well. Thank you for asking.”

A few other voices chime in—Mr. Wilson and a couple of Sophie’s aunts—asking about my parents, not as royals but as people.

And then, just as quickly, the teasing begins.

“So, Prince Graham,” one of the older men says, grinning, “should we start bowing when we see you?”

“No need,” I reply, smirking. “But I wouldn’t say no to a free drink.”

Laughter erupts, and just like that, Bardstown does what it always does—it welcomes me back, no matter what title I carry.

The guests settle into their seats, and a hush falls over the crowd as the wedding march begins.

Ethan is already standing under the flowery gazebo, looking just the right amount nervous. The sun filters through the canopy of leaves, casting everything in a soft, golden glow. The entire setup—the candles, the aisle lined with delicate petals, and the fairy lights woven into the gazebo’s arch—is perfect.

And then, Riley steps in.

A collective breath is taken.

She looks stunning in a lace-trimmed gown that fits her like it was made for her and only her. Her hair is styled in soft waves, a few loose strands framing her face, and how she looks at Ethan—like he’s the only person in the world—makes it impossible not to smile.

I glance at Sophie beside me.

And my chest tightens.

She’s crying.

Not dramatic sobbing, but quiet, beautiful tears that she tries, and fails, to wipe away discreetly.

“You’re crying,” I murmur, gently squeezing her hand to comfort her.

She sniffs, dabbing at her cheek. “I can’t help it. I love weddings.”

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