Page 47 of Fake Fiancée, Real Baby
It was overwhelming, but Claire kept in mind Adrien’s words — none of it mattered, apart from the love they shared.
“Look at all the soldiers and the uniforms, and… oh, the Archbishop in his finery. He’s wearing more lace than you, Claire,” her mom exclaimed.
Claire smiled as the carriage drew up outside the cathedral. A guard of honor stood ready to welcome them, and the Archbishop and the clergy in their bright gold chasubles and copes were waiting on the steps. Claire pictured Adrien waiting for her inside. He’d be wearing his military uniform — the same as he’d shown her during the rehearsal. It hadn’t quite fitted, and his mother had made a comment about Claire’s cooking having gained him a few pounds…
“Are you ready?” her dad asked, and Claire nodded.
“As ready as I can be,” she replied.
As the carriage door was opened, the cheers of the crowds grew louder. Claire stepped out, waving as she’d practiced, and holding up her dress so as not to trip. Page boys and flower girls rushed to assist, and the train stretched back to the carriage as Claire, on her dad’s arm, made her way up the steps to the great doors of the cathedral, turning, just as the queen had told her to, and waving to the crowd.
“Welcome, Miss Bellamy. This way, please,” the Archbishop said, leading Claire and the others into the cathedral, where hundreds of guests and dignitaries were waiting for them.
The organ thundered into play, and Claire could see Adrien on the steps leading to the high altar. The procession down the aisle seemed to take forever, and all eyes were on her. The king and queen were already in their places, and Claire was touched when both Their Majesties acknowledged her with a bow of the head. As they approached the altar, Adrien turned with a smile on his face. It was that smiled she’d first fallen for — the smile on the yacht, and the same smile now. It made her realize just how much she loved him, and was proof of how much he loved her, too.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, as she slipped her arm into his.
“And you look very handsome,” she replied.
The Archbishop now came to stand before them as the organ music came to an end.
“Beloved in Christ…” he began, introducing the words of the marriage service as silence fell around them. In their vows, Claire and Adrien promised love and faithfulness to one another for the rest of their lives, promising to honor and cherish oneanother in good times and bad. As the Archbishop pronounced them husband and wife, Claire felt a sense of peace — despite the crowds, the televisions cameras, the eyes of the world on them. None of that mattered. She was marrying Adrien, the man she loved — that was what mattered. “And may almighty God bless you, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.”
“Amen,” Claire said, smiling at Adrien, who now leaned forward to kiss her.
It was a perfect moment. It wastheirmoment, and its intimacy was like that of the yacht, when they’d truly been alone. As their lips parted, Adrien smiled at her.
“We did it,” he said, as the procession began to form and the heralds sounded their triumphant proclamation of the royal marriage.
“I still can’t quite believe it. But we did, didn’t we,” Claire replied.
“And I meant every word. I love you, Claire. I love you with my whole heart. You mean everything to me. You and the baby.”
Slipping her arm into his, the two of them turned to face the congregation. Claire caught her mom’s eye — she was sobbing uncontrollably — while Adrien’s mother maintained a calm composure. But there was a twinkle in her eye as they passed, and that same nod of acceptance as before. Claire felt relieved — soon, they’d be away from the glare of publicity, and free to be together. Mr. Bellagio had offered them theAurorafor their honeymoon, and they were to leave Flandenne that evening on the royal flight for Monaco.
“This way, Your Highnesses,” one of the ushers said, and Claire and Adrien now came to stand in front of the great west door ofthe cathedral, beyond which Claire could hear the cheers of the crowds.
“Are you ready, Your Highness?” Adrien whispered, winking at her as he spoke.
Claire smiled. “Don’t call me that,” she replied, as the doors were pulled open, revealing the square beyond, with its hordes of well-wishers in a sea of waving flags and applause.
“I never thought I’d be glad to see a crowd like this,” Adrien said, as they stepped out onto the porch of the cathedral.
“I think they’re happy to see us,” Claire replied, and it seemed the wedding had been a triumph, and that the royal couple had proved themselves worthy of the esteem.
The carriage was waiting, but the procession would go, not to the palace, but to the royal theater, where Monsieur Faronne and his brigade of chefs were busy preparing an elaborate banquet to be served in Claire’s very own restaurant. She’d insisted on it, though the queen had put her foot down at the suggestion of Claire donning her chef’s whites for the service.
“There’ll be enough of that to come,” she’d said, and Claire had agreed, though she was already planning her first menu and the opening night.
“You’ve made me the happiest man in all of Flandenne,” Adrien said, as they sat back in the carriage a few moments later.
“And that makes me the happiest woman, too,” Claire replied, waving to the crowds as the carriage drew off across the square.
“I never thought it would happen. I never thought I’d have what I have now,” he said.
“Neither did I. But that’s the point, isn’t it? We never know what’s coming next. And there’s still more to come, I’m sure.”
“Wait until they hear about the baby,” Adrien said.
