Chapter 38

Jo

It's time to prepare for the busy season in Mirror Lake.

But the usual excitement for the busy season simply isn't there this time.

I work in the garden alone. Just as I always did between the time Jakob left and I found him again.

I was always content to work in the garden alone, turning over the soil, planting seeds, pulling weeds. Deciding where to put flowers with no rhyme or reason, because flowers don't need rhyme or reason.

The songbirds are returning to my little cottage in the woods. The tulips have bloomed and died back already, and the summer plants are beginning to revive themselves.

I'm happy to do this work alone. I am content. After all, I'm the same person I was before Jakob came back into my life.

I'm the same Jo. The village may look at me a little funny ever since I came back from Arenhammer alone. But eventually, they'll stop asking questions.

I don't know yet how the story ends with me and Jakob. All I know is I have to be here alone to sort out my feelings.

I can't take the crush of people in the capital city. I can't take so many questions from strangers. I can't take media coaches and etiquette coaches and stylists and bodyguards and camera flashes.

Good gods, you would think nobody in Gravenland had anything better to do with their time than obsess about one dysfunctional family, who because of blood or luck ended up with their asses occupying some thrones. Thrones that could be melted down, the gold and precious gems sold to benefit those in need. But nobody asked me.

The sound of tires on stones has me glancing up toward the cottage.

A line of sleek black cars and SUVs has just arrived. The sigh I sigh comes from the depth of my soul.

As I watch, leaning on my garden spade, Uther exits the black SUV in the middle of the line-up. The massive kilted man sees me, nods, and then opens a door.

Jakob steps out of the car, a bouquet of bluebells in one hand and a to-go cup of coffee in the other.

"Really? Is all this protection necessary? It's just me," I say, gesturing to my dirty overalls.

"I'm sorry" is all Jakob says in response.

Does he know what he's sorry for? I wait.

"I'm sorry for not telling you my mother had an affair with the king. I pushed it down and refused to think about it. I'm sorry for lying about the ring. I made the mistake of thinking it would burden you knowing I had it. I thought that all of it would come with unwanted questions and attention, which we both know you don't relish."

I take off my garden gloves and wipe my brow. "That's for certain."

I am a mess of sweat and dirt. My muscles ache. Hell, my bones ache.

In contrast, Jakob is magnificent. Much like the way he looked that day he stepped onto the train platform and took my breath away. But today, he looks different. Regal. He's been buoyed by his newfound family and all the attention and love he's been receiving. In the media. On the Internet.

Oh, trust me. I've seen the thirst posts about him. And no, we're not going to talk about that or my head will explode.

"But you have to believe me, I did not know the king was my father. I never let myself entertain that thought, not even for a moment, until the day of Stasi and Sigurd's wedding."

I blow out a breath. "I believe you." And I do.

But he has more to say, and I know all this talking is a lot for Jakob.

"Additionally, it was insensitive of me to say that our future was taken care of only because I'm a member of the Haart clan now."

Well, now we're getting somewhere. "Keep going."

The still small voice inside nags at me to apologize for leaving. But he seems like he wants to get a lot off his chest.

"I didn't mean financially ‘taken care of.' Although let's face it, this position does afford us a hell of a lot of financial security that we didn't have otherwise. But what I meant was, we have family now. We have brothers and sisters and a very cranky stepmother who is dragging her feet with the palace schedulers on this coronation thing. She's not a fan of the optics with you having disappeared. Or is she a stepmother-in-law? I'm not sure what to call her."

The way Jakob cocks his head like he's unsure of himself makes me laugh. He always knows how to make me laugh.

I huff out, "I don't know what to call her either, except stubborn." I toss my garden gloves into my wheelbarrow.

"But the point is, like it or not, I'm a man. No matter how perfectly matched we are, no matter how perfectly equally we divide household labor or how enlightened I am, at my core, I want to be a provider. And I suppose that having it confirmed who I was put that question to rest. I can provide. And if I can't, we have family," Jakob continues.

Although what he says is true, there are other things to consider. "But we have an entire village who loves us like family," I remind him.

"And look at how much richer that makes us to have so many people on our team," Jakob counters.

Jakob glances over his shoulder at the royal motorcade. A blacked-out window rolls down, and to my surprise, Princess Flora leans out. "We are all Team Jo and Jakob! We love you, Jo! Please come back!"

Dammit, Flora. I hate that she knows how to evoke emotions out of me that I'm not ready for, but I also love her. She's so endearingly the opposite of me, and I adore her like everyone else does.

"You see? I owe our dead king a debt of gratitude."

I rest my hand on my hip. "For what?"

A smile pulls at his lip. "It was because of the king that I met you."

It's not that easy. It can't be. A person can't simply forgive that quickly, can they?

And yet, I'm ready to forgive my husband.

"Jakob," I rasp out around the lump in my throat.

"You're my wife, dammit. If you don't want to come back with me for the coronation, fine. But I am not going back without you."

"I can't go back, Jakob. I can't stand and watch your coronation and pretend to be happy about it. I can't be a queen."

Flora and Jakob exchange a knowing look.

Jakob looks back at me with a wide grin on his face. "Who said anything about my coronation?"

I startle. "What are you talking about? Aren't you here to talk me into standing next to you as your supportive little wifey while someone in a silly robe puts a ostentatious crown on your head and a staff in your hand?" I wince at Flora apologetically. "No offense. Your tiaras are lovely."

Flora snorts. "None taken! But it's a scepter, not a staff."

Jakob eats up the distance between us and takes both my sweaty hands in his. "It's not my coronation. I want you to come back to the palace with me for Flora's coronation."

I look back at Flora. "Is it true?"

Flora beams at me. "You are the first to know, but you can't breathe the word about it until the night beforehand, after we break the news to the dowager queen."

"This is crazy," I say.

Up close, Jakob's eyes are tired and worried. "Love, I don't remember how to breathe without you. Nothing feels right without you. We can come back here just as soon as that crown is on Flora's head and all is settled. That is a promise, princess."

My heart races.

"I accept your apology," I say, placing my hand on his that holds the bouquet. "And I'm sor?—"

Jakob cuts me off with his mouth on mine, our lips coming together a heart-stopping kiss.

The coffee tumbles to the ground as he scoops me up into his arms and begins the march toward the cottage. My heart races. The heated look in his eye tells me exactly what's about to happen next.

"With your family waiting outside?" I laugh.

"I told Uther to take everyone into the village for a pint if things went well."

"Everyone? What do you mean, everyone?"

"I mean everyone. Torben, Haley, Etienne, Kala, Flora, and her fiancé."

I don't remember hearing about Flora getting engaged, but then, I haven't kept up with the news since I decided to hunker down in Mirror Lake. It sounds like the princess is growing up quickly.

Or maybe we're all just believing in our destiny and taking our chances.

Jakob leaves the door swinging open as we enter the cottage, but I don't fuss about it. I'm giddy, tingling with the knowledge that he's back. That we are back.

This may not be perfect. Maybe this isn't how you go about getting past your issues.

But the progression of our lives doesn't have to be linear.

Flowers don't need rhyme or reason.

But we will grow better together.