Page 32 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
Adrien nodded, drawing his hand back with an apologetic look on his face. “I’m sorry. I know this is all new for you. It’s going to take some getting used to — for us both. I don’t want to pressure you into anything. It’s just… well, the past few weeks have been… wonderful.”
His words brought a lump to Claire’s throat. She felt the same, but she wasn’t ready to admit as much. Not yet, at least.Certainly, meeting Adrien had proved life changing, but until she was certain, a doubt persisted.
“I certainly never thought I’d meet a prince who’d ask me to marry him. Even if itisjust for show.”
Adrien smiled. “But that’s the point. It doesn’t have to be just for show. It can be something more if you want it to be.”
Was he being serious, or was he clutching at straws? Despite her growing feelings for him, Claire still wondered if she could trust what he was saying. The incident with the beer tankard had been amusing, but it had shown just how the prince could still behave — as though nothing else really mattered. Had he given her a second thought as he made an embarrassment of himself?
“There’s still so much to work out,” she said. “And there’s the restaurant, too. That’s why I came to Flandenne, isn’t it? For the restaurant.”
She was repeating herself now, but she wanted Adrien to understand just how important this was to her. It meant everything. She had a dream — a dream she’d previously thought impossible. Meeting Adrien had changed that, and while there was no doubting her growing feelings for him, Claire had to be absolutely certain those feelings weren’t just the result of his promises to her. She didn’t want those dreams to be brushed aside — dismissed for the possibility of something that was, in his eyes, greater.
“I know, and I’m going to make sure it happens. But my mother wants things to move quicker than I’d thought they would. We might not have a choice,” he replied.
Claire sighed. If the choice had already been made, she’d have to think carefully — a life in the spotlight, her every movequestioned. Could a princess really own her own restaurant and work as she’d always been used to working? There were so many questions — so many uncertainties.
“Why can’t it just be about us?Ourwedding,ourfuture,ourhappiness?”
Claire knew she was being naïve. It would never just be about them. That was the point. He looked at her sympathetically.
“I’d understand if you wanted to leave,” he said.
“I don’t want to leave. But I don’t want to be in a straitjacket, either. I can’t live my life in a bubble. I’ve got to do something. That’s why the restaurant means so much to me.”
She wanted to impress the importance of it on him. Adrien was used to having whatever he wanted, when he wanted it. He didn’t have to work for what his heart desired. But for Claire, matters were different. She’d always worked for the things she had. It mattered to her, and she knew an idle life wasn’t for her.
“I know it does. And I promise we’ll make it happen. But please… won’t you think about what I’ve said?
Claire nodded. She’d thought of little else but Adrien and the promise he’d made her on theAurora.Naïvely, she’d thought it would be easy, but with the date of the wedding looming, and the restaurant still seemingly out of reach, she felt as though she’d come to a crossroads, and whichever way she turned would determine the rest of her life.
CHAPTER 17
CLAIRE
“The service will take place in the cathedral, of course. The Archbishop’s going to preside. There’ll be the nuptial Mass, then the carriage procession. After that, the balcony appearance,” the queen said, running her finger down a list on an open ledger in front of her.
Claire nodded. She wasn’t even Catholic, though it seemed Adrien’s mother hadn’t realized that. She’d been summoned to a planning meeting that morning — a meeting at which she was to listen to the plans made for her, rather than have any influence over them.
“Must there be a balcony appearance, Mother?” Adrien asked.
The queen looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “It’s tradition, Adrien. It’s what the public expects. Now, we need to think about the guest list for the cathedral, then for the reception…”
Claire had zoned out. She was thinking about menus. No one had asked her what she might like to eat on her wedding day.
We’re not even getting married.
And yet, the marriage was going ahead. This was far more than the casual arrangement she’d believed it to be. Here she was, sitting with the Queen of Flandenne, listening to the arrangements being made for a wedding — her wedding. It felt like a dream, but it most certainly wasn’t.
“What will your mother be wearing, Claire?”
Claire looked up to see the queen looking at her expectantly.
“Oh… I… I don’t know. Something… flowery. She usually wears flowery dresses,” Claire replied.
Her parents had only just about gotten over the shock of the announcement. As to what they were going to wear…
“I’ll be wearing yellow. We mustn’t clash,” the queen replied.
