How The Italian broke my heart (part 3)
The princess and prince still worked for the same government department, but they worked at different sites, so they did not see each other in passing, ever. But the princess knew that somehow, they would be brought together by work.
A month before her 40th birthday, she was invited to the farewell party for a workmate. She accepted and had a niggling feeling that the prince would be there. And he was. She could feel his presence before he even entered the room; she had butterflies in her stomach and a surge of blood warmed her body. The prince saw the princess as soon as he entered the room and he made his way toward her and asked if he could sit with her. The princess replied, yes, and in the same breath asked him if he was still passing himself off as single. The prince replied that he was indeed now single, and would love to have a cup of coffee with the princess if she would be willing.
The princess, of course, agreed and the prince said he would be in touch. She wanted to believe that the prince was genuine, so she waited for him to contact her (after all she had more or less done most of the chasing for Their First Real Date). And he did. A few days after they met again, the prince called the princess and arranged to meet for coffee.
The princess was consumed with anticipation. She knew this was going to be the start of something. What it was exactly, she wasn’t quite sure. When she met the prince for coffee, he was a changed man. He was open and warm: none of the caginess from their meetings nearly a year ago was apparent. From go to woe, it was an easy encounter.
(And it was still there. Even after a year. That intoxicating feeling of a deeply primal attraction that had a life of its own. That would not be controlled. That had to be realised.)
What’s more, the prince remembered that it was almost her birthday and asked the princess if she was doing anything special. The princess hadn’t planned anything, but quickly her mind ticked over. Why, yes, she replied. She had organised drinks with a few friends at a city hotel. Would he like to come along too? The prince replied that he was playing that night (he was a drummer in a band), but would Pop Past after, if she was still there. He would call her, he promised.
The night that the prince was to Pop Past went so slowly, it was like a thousand nights. But he called her, as promised. He stayed for a drink, and then took her back to her castle. The chemistry between them was so strong, it was like a lit fuse, an exploding bomb. Just being near him made her feel like molten chocolate. They didn’t talk much, but there were no words that could describe the feeling of being back together, with nothing standing in their way. They were free. Free just to be.
(And the prince and the princess shared a night of passion that would be written in the stars for a lifetime, and the gods themselves were jealous.)
When the prince left the next morning, the princess was unsure of what was to come. But she should not have been afraid; the prince called her on her actual birthday to wish her good tidings. And the next week he called her, and they arranged to go on Their Next Real Date. That too, was magical.
After Their Next Real Date, the prince and princess spent more and more time together. The princess could not have been happier. She fell deeply and utterly in love with the prince. She loved him more than she could ever imagine loving any man. She adored him. She would have walked over hot coals for him. She yearned to be with him, and was miserable when she was not. She could not imagine living her life without him. She thought about growing old with the prince, that they would have many children and grandchildren. Images of the two of them with snowy white hair, surrounded by their scampering grandchildren who vied for their attention flashed frequently across the princess’s mind’s eye. It was a beautiful, peaceful, satisfying vision of the future.
Unfortunately, though, it was not to be. There was trouble brewing on the horizon.