I knew something was wrong the second I pulled up to Stallings Castle. The scaffolding on the outside of the house, usually bustling with workers and noise, was empty. Opening my door, I was met with silence. There wasn’t a single hammer or drill going.

Furrowing my brow, I checked my watch. I was surprised to see that it was already five o’clock. And was it Friday again? Honestly, the days had begun to blur together. I’d been so busy with work lately I hardly knew my name, much less what day it was.

So busy, and so bummed. Ever since my heart to heart with Aly and Timothy Bardy (we broke ground on his project in three months, by the way), I couldn’t stop thinking about calling Kit. Some nights I would sit in my apartment and stare at my phone. My heart would pound as my thumb hovered over his number. The thought of hearing his voice again made me sick with longing.

I always stopped myself just in time. Kit and I had broken up for a reason. He hadn’t called me since that awful night when everything went to shit. So what if I wanted him back? He clearly didn’t want me, and I didn’t want to embarrass us both by begging.

I’d get over him eventually. At least I hoped I would. The past six months had been hell. And I know you were supposed to keep going when you were going through hell or whatever. But I didn’t know how much longer I could go. I didn’t know how much fight I had left in me. It had been six months, and I missed Kit more than ever. Our relationship had lasted all of a month. According to Cosmopolitan wisdom, that meant I was supposed to be over Kit approximately thirty-six hours after we broke up.

Hooking my bag over my shoulder, I marched up to the front door. I stopped. I heard something inside. I tilted my head, straining to hear. Was that…music?

It sounded like an orchestra almost. Like someone was blasting classical music inside the house.

My stomach clenched. What the hell?

I climbed the front steps and dug my keys out of my bag. But when I went to put the key in the lock, the door moved in. It was already open.

“God damn it,” I hissed. “I told them to keep this thing locked.”

Sending up a silent prayer that a serial killer wasn’t waiting for me inside, I pushed open the door and stepped into the house.

“Hello?” I called. My footsteps echoed off the bare walls as I moved into the front hall. “Anyone here?”

The music started up again, louder this time. As far as I could tell, it was coming from the great hall at the back of the house.

Goosebumps erupted on my arms as I walked slowly through the front hall, into the dining room, and then into the gallery. The place was a mess. We were in the thick of renovations. I had to step over boxes of tile and piles of misshapen plywood as I moved.

The music was getting louder. I listened, trying to pick out a tune. My heart began to pound.

Was that—wait, was this an instrumental version of a Justin Bieber song?

I shook the thought from my head. I was clearly delirious. When was the last time I ate? I couldn’t remember. I hadn’t been hungry in what felt like years.

Still, the thought of Justin Bieber made my stomach clench. I couldn’t listen to him anymore. It just reminded me of dancing with Kit. God, Kit had been such a terrible, terrifically cute dancer. Did he dance with the brunette, I wondered?

I blinked when I nearly tripped over a ladder. Seriously, where was everyone? The guys usually worked until six o’clock at least.

I walked through the drawing room. The great hall was just to the right. The music was much clearer in here.

My stomach clenched again as the notes of the song arranged themselves into a familiar tune.

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

It was a Justin Bieber song. My favorite one, too—“Sorry”. The instrumental version sounded pretty and soft.

I turned the corner into the great hall. My heart was in my throat. And then it exploded when I saw what I did.

Every inch of the soaring room was draped in twinkling white lights. They hung from the walls, and sloped gently high overhead to form a sort of ceiling. Everywhere I looked, there were lights and more lights. When I walked into the middle of the room, I felt like I’d been shot up into the sky and was walking amongst the stars.

The room had been cleared of construction debris. There was indeed a string quartet set up in the corner. They smiled when they saw me, not missing a beat of the song. They sounded incredible in this room. The notes echoed off the high ceiling, filling my ears, my head, my heart.

I was enthralled. But I was also very confused. I didn’t get what this was all about. Had Aly met some British guy she hadn’t told me about? A guy who’d decided to propose to her today or something?

Why the Bieber, then? None of it made sense.

“Emily.”

I looked up at the sound of a familiar voice. My heart dipped.

Kit was standing in a far corner, hands in the pockets of his jeans, one ankle crossed over the other. His eyes shone in the twinkling lights as he met mine. He had this look on his face. He wasn’t smiling, exactly. But there was this softness in his eyes and around his mouth that made me think he was equal parts happy and scared.

My first thought was holy fuck he’s here.

My second thought was why didn’t I shower this morning? I should’ve showered. Even in his jeans and crisp white button down, Kit looked good enough to eat. I was wearing dirty leggings and an oversized sweater. I hadn’t slept, and I definitely hadn’t washed my hair or bothered to put on makeup.

My eyes filmed over. I blinked the tears away.

“Hey,” I said, wiping my nose on the sleeve of my sweater. “What are you doing here?”

Kit pushed off the wall and started walking towards me. My entire being pulsed with longing. The way he moved—the way he looked—the way he was looking at me right now, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even though I looked like hell. It was all too much.

He met me in the middle of the room. I could smell his aftershave. I wavered on my feet.

Kit pulled an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to me. “I’m here because I wanted to give you this.”

“What is it?” I asked, glancing at the envelope.

He held it up a little higher. “Take it. Read it. Please.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. I took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a carefully folded letter, printed on Kit’s official letterhead. My eyes moved over each line, faster and faster, tears welling up all over again the more I read.

To Her Majesty Queen Margaret,

I cannot fulfill my duty to my country and my crown if I cannot be with the woman I love…therefore, I humbly renounce my right to my titles, positions, and place in the succession…I make this decision willingly, with clear eyes and a clear heart…I plan to live a happy life with my wife, with whom I hope to dance with every night. We shall have many, many, many children, and it is my sincerest hope they like Monty Python as much as we do…

I looked up at Kit, too shocked to formulate a single thought, much less a word. He was biting back a grin now. His eyes were wet.

“Kit,” I breathed, letting the hand I held the letter in drop. “What is this?”

“It’s my abdication,” he replied.

I stared at him. “Your abdication?”

“Yes. I put it on the Queen’s desk first thing this morning. I’m removing myself from the line of succession, Em.”

“You can do that?”

He shrugged, a smug, self-satisfied thing. “I’m a prince. Of course I can.”

I looked back down at the letter. “You want to do that?”

Kit took a step forward, touching his thumb to my chin, urging me to look up at him.

“I want to be with you, Em. More than I want anything else,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “If that means giving up my life as a prince, so be it. I am not Luke, Emily. I am not leaving you.”

My throat closed in. “You’d give all that up? For me?”

He nodded. “Without a second thought. Although I hope you make a decent salary at EP Designs, because I’m out of a job.”

“But what about my divorce?”

“What about it? There’s no rule that says I can’t marry you.”

I stared at him again in disbelief. The crown—his family—the foundation—I knew how much it all meant to him. I knew how badly he wanted to use his position and his power to continue his parents’ legacy. The fact that he’d sacrifice all that for me…

It was overwhelming.

I didn’t know humans were capable of that kind of sacrifice. That kind of selflessness.

A tear slipped out of my eye, rolled down my cheek. Kit reached up and caught it easily with his thumb. Just like he did that morning he showed me his baby pictures.

“Why?” I managed, crossing my arms. “Why are you doing all this?”

“Because I want you to be with me,” he replied. “And I don’t want you to have to give up your job to do it. So I figured I’ll give up mine.”

I closed my eyes. Tears fell out of them anyway.

He ran his finger along the edge of my face, moving my hair out of the way. “I’m sorry I asked you to choose. That was shitty of me. Let me make it up to you, Em. Let me show you it doesn’t have to be that way. I’m sorry.”

I opened my eyes. Met his. “Why?”

He held a finger up to the ceiling. “Because Justin Bieber says so. Obviously.”

I laughed, even as new tears spilled out of my eyes.

“But really,” he said, settling his feet on either side of mine. “Emily, I’ve been in love with you since the moment we met. You’re the only person who’s ever gotten a rise out of me. Well, except for my brothers and my sister, but they don’t count. You get under my skin. You open me up. I was so closed off before. So scared of letting people in. But you showed me the risk was worth it—you showed me that I couldn’t get what my parents had by keeping everyone at arm’s length.” Kit rested his forehead against mine. Closed his eyes. “You showed me how much I was missing out on. No one’s ever breached my walls before, Em. But you did. You are ambitious, and smart, and beautiful, and I find that combination so bloody sexy. You’re my person, Emily. You always have been. It’s just taken me a while to figure it out.”

I was really crying now. Big fat tears, swollen throat, runny nose, the works. But I didn’t care.

“You’re so excellent,” I breathed. “So freaking excellent, Kit.”

I knew—in my gut I knew—I couldn’t let someone as excellent as Kit abdicate the freaking throne to marry me. Having someone like him, someone as thoughtful and dedicated and intelligent, inherit a position of power was a once-in-a-millennia event. I’d watched enough Game of Thrones to understand that natural leaders like him didn’t come around all that often.

If I wanted to be with Kit, I had to give up my firm. I didn’t want to. Of course I didn’t want to. But my business was as successful as it had ever been, and I was unhappier than ever. Maybe it was time to move on. Time to try on something new. Like Kit had told me, it wasn’t like I’d be giving up a career altogether by marrying him. I’d just be trading one career for another.

Maybe I really could make a difference at the helm of The Prince’s Foundation.

Maybe I really could let go of everything I thought I should accomplish and just be happy.

There was no guarantee that this would work out. There was no safety net here. Nothing to catch me if I jumped. But my gut was telling me to jump anyway.

“I love you, Em,” Kit breathed.

I tilted my chin forward, kissed his mouth. “My God, Kit, I love you too.”

Before I knew what he was about, Kit was falling to one knee. A familiar box suddenly materialized in his hand.

He met my eyes. I saw that he was crying, too. My heart burst.

“Miss Emily Kilpatrick, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?” Kit popped open the box. His mother’s emerald ring—the same one he’d given me the first time around, the one I’d loved so much—was inside.

I smiled. Laughed. Cried.

“Yes,” I said. “Yes, yes, yes!”

I held out my hand, and Kit slid the ring on my finger for the second time.

The last time.

Then he stood and ducked his head and crushed his lips to mine. I tasted the salt of his tears and the heat of his relief. I tasted him, the sweetest taste I’d ever known.

I pulled away. “But only if you do one thing for me.”

“Anything.” His eyes were wild. “Just name it, and I’ll make it happen.”

“You can’t abdicate. Kit, you’re too damn good at what you do. You can make a difference as King. A real impact. I can’t ask you to give that up.” I took a deep breath. “I’m going to give EP Designs to Aly.”

His eyes widened. “Em—”

“No, I’m serious. We can do a lot more good together if you keep your position.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” I smiled. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life.”

He smiled, too. Gah, that smile never got old. I thought about the Ice Prince. Thought about how far Kit had come since then.

“We could really use someone like you at the foundation,” he said. “And the monarchy—hell! Think of all the things you can teach us. Think of all the things you can do, all the lives you can change.”

“The sky’s the limit, huh?” I teased.

“The sky, the stars, the sun.” He drew his thumb over my lips. “You’re a universe unto itself, love. You’re my universe.”

I was crying again, and so was he. He pulled me to him, our tears mingling as our mouths met.

There was a sudden commotion behind Kit. I drew back to see Rob, Jack, and Jane hurtling into the great hall. Rob had a magnum of champagne in his hands. Jane was carrying champagne flutes. Jack was dancing to the latest classical Bieber interpretation (“Where are Ü Now”).

“She said yes!” Jack said, jamming his fists into the air.

“Thank God,” Rob murmured, carefully pouring champagne into the flutes. “You had us worried there for a moment, Emily.”

I bit my lip, met Kit’s eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, shrugging. “I may or may not have enlisted their help in making all this happen.”

I grinned. “I’m glad they’re here to help us celebrate.”

Jane handed us glasses, and Rob set down the magnum.

“A toast!” Rob said, holding up his glass. “To the newest member of the family. Best of luck to you, my dear, you’re going to need it.”

Kit elbowed his brother none too gently. Then he turned back to me, pressing a kiss onto my lips.

“You make me so fucking happy,” he murmured. My heart soared. “Now let’s live happily every after, shall we?”

“Let’s,” I said, clinking my glass against his.