AUTHOR'S NOTE-

This is one of my favorite ones I've created in this book! Hope you enjoy!

Twenty Years Later...

"Avery Emerson, will you marry me?" Mason got down on one knee, a two carat diamond ring greeting Avery in a small, black box. This was exactly how she dreamed of being proposed to; at a beach where she felt the most peaceful, standing in rose petals shaped into a heart with tea candles surrounding them. Avery caught her gasp in her hands. She had no words and she couldn't move. Her feet were rooted to the same spot, the foam of the waves tickling her toes. She settled with a nod as her answer. The waterworks were streaming down her cheeks as she watched the man she thought of as her soulmate stand back up and slide the ring back onto her finger. Mason was her dream man. Patient. Something that her father wasn't when she was growing up. Supportive. She had a history of dating someone who didn't approve of her passion for music. Christian. The number one trait she wanted Avery and her siblings to find in a man or woman. It didn't hurt that he was good-looking.

Really good-looking.

They ended the night at their engagement party. The venue was a five-star restaurant that was known for their Italian cuisine. If Avery could marry their breadsticks, she would. Her mom, who planned this whole evening three months ago the day that Mason told her his plans, locked her in a bone-crushing embrace. Mrs. Emerson burst into tears the second her chin touched Avery's shoulder. Her and her mom had the best mother-daughter relationship. They were like best friends. That is, if best friends argue over one telling the other what to do all the time and what's appropriate to wear for a date and what's not. But yeah, best friends nonetheless.

Cousins Avery hadn't seen in years, aunts and uncles that haven't even met Mason during the three years we were dating and friends they've had since the diaper days approached them all throughout the night. Stories were shared - embarrassing ones? Yes. My mother was known for telling baby stories about us all the time - iconic songs from the two thousands were danced to and debates were had about who was better: Justin Bieber or Justin Timberlake.

Spoiler alert: Bieber won.

Avery woke up the next morning, admiring her ring in the morning sunlight before meeting Mason at his apartment to plan the wedding. She took a shower, got dressed and grabbed her wedding binder that she made when she was seven and was marrying a kid she met at a park. He had a crush on her. Avery had a crush on him. So they decided to get married. But now, she was getting married for real. Butterflies in her stomach woke up at the thought. She arrived at his apartment where she found a bouquet of flowers on the island counter and a cracker, cheese and grapes charcuterie board on the living room coffee table.

"A call to let me know when you'd be here would be nice." Mason stood there at the base of the stairs.

In a towel.

His dripping wet hair was falling over his eyebrows, droplets were leaving a wet trail down and a devilish grin was released on his face. Maybe that would've been a better idea. This warmth wouldn't be taking over her face and neck. He knew exactly what he was doing. But Avery decided to play along.

"True. But what's the fun in that?" Her gaze followed his six-pack to the V-line that disappeared behind his blue towel as her teeth clamped over her bottom lip. "Fiancé," she muttered lowly to herself. Calling him her fiancé felt unreal. He scoffed and shook his head.

"Nuh-uh. We are most definitely not gonna be one of those cheesy couples who says that for a week straight after they get engaged."

"Honey, you proposed to me on a beach in the middle of rose petals in the shape of a heart. I think we surpassed cheesy a long time ago." While he migrated back to his room to get changed, I stuffed my face with cheese and crackers and grapes to make up for skipping breakfast.

When he got back, we started with looking for venues. We went through many options of churches, beaches and even googled barns big enough to host over a hundred guests. This was common knowledge, but weddings were expensive.

Avery should've been a CEO of a company who made six figures a year before she got engaged. At least then, paying for a wedding would be a piece of cake. Speaking of cake, that was, yet another thing they had yet to discuss. Desserts. Cake or cupcakes. Donuts or cookies. Should they have a candy selection like her cousin did at their wedding?

Avery dropped her head against the coffee table and banged her head against it. "Why can't we elope?" she asked herself in between banging her head.

"You know my mother would absolutely decapitate me if we drove to Las Vegas and got married without her and her family."

She smiled sweetly and laid her head in his shoulder, looking up at him and fluttering her eyelashes. "But you love me so much, it'd be worth it?"

He shook his head. "Nice try, but I like having my head. It has my eyes, my ears, my nose... my lips." He leaned in to connect our lips in a soft kiss. It was brief, but the same kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach.

They proceeded to start the guest list - she had one hundred people on her side alone - looked for more venues and started brainstorming ideas for food. By the time four o' clock rolled around, Mason and Avery decided to call it a night and order Chinese from Panda Express. She left an hour later and practically skipped with a spring in her step to her mailbox and front door.

She was stoked to finally be getting married. Especially after being the maid of honor for her sisters and friends a total of seven times. And that wasn't even including her other close recently-engaged friends who were guaranteed to ask her. But home had never been sweeter as she unlocked her door, kicked off her heels and plopped herself on her couch.

She rifled through her mail. Bill. Bill. Another bill. Advertisements. Magazine. She furrowed her brows when she reached the last envelope. It was cream-colored, bigger than the others and the address on the top left corner wasn't even in this country. Avery slipped the letter out of the envelope and read the letter.

Avery Rose Emerson,

We hope this letter finds you well. Actually, this might come off as a shock to you, receiving a letter from a foreign country that you probably never even heard of. You might know my son. You met him at the park in the states two decades ago. We would like to cordially invite you to a formal dinner at the Worthington Palace next week. All expenses would be paid, of course. First class tickets and accommodations will be paid for. You are also welcome to bring along a friend. Please take this invitation into consideration. It would be a privilege to have you.

Signed,

Richard Young, King of Alkavia

-

"You married a prince?" Mason questioned incredulously for the fifty seventh time in seven days. Yes, she was counting. Alkavia was a beautiful country. She couldn't believe she'd never heard of it before. Lots of green hills, radiant beaches with crystal clear waters and huge houses built on a cliff with the perfect view of the ocean. A car picked them up from the hotel and wherever it was taking them was, at least, a two hours away. Her butt couldn't take any more sitting. She readjusted herself five times, like that would help.

"For the fifty seventh time, I did not marry a prince. Not for real anyway. We were just kids and it was a fake ceremony. Obviously, we're not really married."

"And his father... the king of a foreign country invited you to a dinner twenty years later?"

Avery shrugged. She wondered the same thing when she read the letter. She hadn't seen Edward since their fake wedding ceremony by the swings so there was no need for his parents to want to meet her. Nonetheless, she accepted the invitation. It would be nice for her to reunite with an old friend. Or, in her case, in old fake husband.

"Holy shit."

Avery furrowed her brows at Mason until she looked out the car window. There stood uphill was a massive palace. Her mouth fell agape at the sight of a spectacular building with stone walls, grand columns and double doors for the front entrance and it was surrounded by a beautifully manicured garden with bushes growing blossoming flowers and a water fountain in the center. It had to be fifty thousand square feet. Maybe even bigger.

She whipped out her phone and took dozens of pictures. Who knew the next time she'd be in front of an astounding palace like this. "I fake married well," Avery mumbled to herself in awe. The driver pulled up to the front and past the gate where two guards were positioned at either side of the double doors, looking like fancy-dressed ice sculptures as they stared straight ahead. "I definitely should've worn something fancier than this sundress. This Target brand dress and a twenty-dollar purse I ordered off Amazon is more worthy of an alleyway than it is of this castle."

Mason clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "I tried to tell you."

"Oh, shut up."

One of the guards moved stiffly to open our doors for them, but he kept his eyes forward. Avery uttered a quiet thank you to him when Mason met her at her side of the car and intertwined their fingers together. She took a deep breath as they entered through the double doors that the guards opened for them.

Her gaze immediately landed on the chandelier in the center of the ceiling, on the large entryway and then, to the grand staircase on their left. A lady approached them, late sixties, navy blue pantsuit, her hair a gray bob and black-rimmed glasses framing her blue eyes. "You must be Avery Emerson. My name is Mary, the King's secretary." She held out her hand for them to shake.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

She waved me off. "No need for that. You can both call me Mary." She wore a bright smile. One that reached her eyes. "We are delighted to have you. Prince Edward would like to see you so if you could follow me please."

Avery and Mason fell in step behind through the long corridor. Along the wall were portraits of former Kings and Queens, dating back to the sixteen hundreds according to Mary when Avery asked about it. Otherwise, it was a quiet walk.

The question of why the Royal family of this beautiful, but small country wanted to see her after all these years was on the tip of her tongue, but nothing would come out. Her throat felt dry, her stomach was in a huge knot and her sweaty hands were trembling.

They were told to wait outside of the room - where the Prince was waiting for us - on the cushion bench. Mason draped in arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, letting her head fall on his shoulder. He knew how nervous she was, but one of the many things she loved about him was how he was able to keep her calm without having to say anything.

Moments passed before the door opened and we were instructed to step inside. Prince Edward in the front of his desk, leaning against it with his arms and ankles crossed. Avery's heart stopped seeing him in a suit and tie, his chocolate hair pulled back with gel, his high cheekbones and strong jawline that could cut your finger if you dared to touch it.

His physique was showing through his white collared button up, he had broad shoulders and a little bit of stubble growing around his jaw. Edward Young was not seven years old anymore. His smile widened at me before he pushed himself away from his desk and wrapped his arms around her. She was taken aback by the physical form of affection after only seeing him for five seconds, but regardless, she reciprocated. "It's so good to see you again, Avery. It's been so long."

"Yes, it has." Avery awkwardly held onto him, eyes open as she waited for him to let go.

"Who's he?"

They pulled apart and she noticed that Prince Edward was referring to Mason who was standing behind her. His gaze was looking at him from the top of his head to the tip of his toes with a frown that appeared on his face and furrowed brows. Poor Mason recoiled under his scrutiny while he scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh, I'm sorry, your highness. This is Mason, my fiancé."

Prince Edward scoffed at Avery. "No need for formalities, Aves. You can call me Edward."

Hearing that nickname for the first time in twenty years elicited a rose red hue to blossom across her face. He was the only person who called her that. Even Mason called her Ry or A, but never Aves. That nickname was only reserved to Edward Young. Edward continued to give Mason his most intimidating scowl. A fearful Mason whispered into Avery's ear saying that he thinks the Prince hates him. Avery couldn't help but think the same thing, but they were only in this room for a minute. He was already looking at Mason like he destroyed one of the priceless vases. "And you're not marrying him."

Avery arched a brow. He couldn't be serious. He may be the Prince of Alkavia, but he wasn't in charge of her life. She could do whatever she wanted. She chuckled dryly. "Excuse me? Who are you to say that I'm not marrying him?"

"Because you're married to me."

She relaxed her face in realization and a smile replaced the frown that was marring her face a few seconds ago. "Edward, we're not really married. We were just kids when we had that ceremony. You didn't think that it was real, did you?"

"It was real. It was... very real."

"Dude, with-"

"That's Your Highness to you."

"Your Highness, she's going to be my wife. That fake wedding ceremony that you had twenty years ago sounds cute and all, but it wasn't real. So you can grow the hell up and accept that you're not really married."

Edward wasn't fazed by his speech. Not even in the slightest. He stepped closer to him, standing at one foot taller. His intense glare could make anyone back down from a fight. Even Avery almost recoiled and she wasn't the one that was on the other side of it. "Unfortunately for you, I am grown up. That wedding that I had with your fiancé was real. Performed by my uncle. Ordained uncle."

Avery's eyes grew as wide as saucers and her bottom lip fell ajar. She wondered if she was hearing this wrong. No, she insisted that she was. Something in the air was negatively affecting her hearing and was causing her to hear things that weren't being said.

"That wedding wasn't fake. I'm her real husband."