Page 92 of Royally Matched
Did I mention the room is small?
“I’ll leave you to it then. You’ve got two keys, one for the front door when it’s locked from ten tonight, and the other for your room. I’ll put them here.” She places the two large keys on one of the nightstands. “Will you be going to the festival? The lanterns are lit at nine-thirty, and there’s a band playing beforehand. My boyfriend’s the drummer.”
“I’m sure we will,” Marco replies.
“Okay, enjoy your stay.” She closes the door, and then it’s just me and Marco in the tiny room—with one rather large elephant in the room with us, akaonly one bed.
Marco must be thinking the exact same thing as me because before I even have the chance to say anything he says, “I’ll get some extra bedding and curl up over there by the fireplace for the night.”
The area in front of the fireplace is currently occupied by two chairs that look like they belong more in a school room than a hotel room.
“Let’s see where the bathroom is, shall we?” Marco strides across the room, which literally takes about three of his long-legged steps, where he slides a door into its pocket to reveal a bathroom about a tenth of the size of my bathroom at the palace.
“Well, that’s tiny,” he says on a laugh, turning to me. “Would you like to freshen up before we go out?”
“Out?”
“To the festival, of course. You know what they say? When in Rome.”
“And in Monteluce that means seeing our receptionist’s boyfriend play the drums in the band.”
“I don’t know about you but I’m very excited for that.”
“Wild horses could not keep me away.”
We share a smile.
“How about you freshen up, and I will give you your privacy,” he offers.
“All right. Then I’ll do the same for you.”
“It’s a deal.” Marco steps out of the room and closes the door behind him.
That's something else he's got going for him. He's respectful. He's giving me my space.
I inspect the bathroom. It’s got a toilet with one of those old fashioned systems high on the wall, from which hangs a chain. There’s a small sink, and a white plastic shower cubicle. Not exactly the palace, but it will do.
A short while later, showered and feeling fresher, I wrap my towel tightly around myself and pull the pocket door open a couple of inches to check if the room is still empty. No sign of Marco. I pad across the floor. It’s then I notice something out of the corner of my eye, something blue in a sea of burgundy. Lying on the bed is the cornflower blue dress I spotted in the window, accompanied by a folded piece of paper with the words “For Hadley” written in ink.
With my chest filling with warmth, I pick the note up and read it.
“You should be allowed to wear whatever color your heart desires. M xx”
My heart begins to hammer.
He bought me the dress? Thebluedress. Not Ledonian red, but blue, and what a beautiful blue it is. I pick the dress up to feel its soft cotton. Lifting it to my face I breathe it in. It smells like newness, and instantly, I’m transported to that summer meadow, enjoying a picnic in the sun with… Marco.
I suck in a breath.
Oh, Marco Revera, you are not playing fair.
Buying me this dress when he knew I liked it and wanted to break out of my endless sea of red is beyond kind, and it makes my heart leap and bounce, like I’m on a trampoline, bouncing as high as I can to reach the clouds.
Quickly, without overthinking this—because I don’t want to overthink this—I slip the dress on and turn to my reflection. I unclip my hair and let it cascade over my shoulders and see a girl looking back at me. I barely recognize myself. My hair falls freely over my shoulders. My formal, expensive clothing is replaced by a pretty summer dress that flows with every movement. As I sway from side to side, enjoying the feel of the dress brushing against my legs, I experience an unfamiliar lightness, a mix of excitement and nervousness and pure elation. For the first time in a long, long time, I’m free to be whoever I want to be, and tonight I’m Marco’s Hadley, wearing the dress he bought for me.
I’m putting on some mascara I bought at the superette when there’s a knock on the door.
“Are you decent?” Marco calls.