Duke, Actually

by Jenny Holiday

She was in charge at this moment. She was always in charge when it came to him, whether or not she realized it.

Kissing Max made Dani realize how much she loved kissing for its own sake. They kissed for what felt like an hour, gradually losing their clothing but in unspoken agreement that they were in no hurry to move things along.

“Oh shut up.” “You know what would be an extremely efficient way of getting me to shut up right at the moment?” He wagged his eyebrows and licked his lips. Well. Who was she to pass up this opportunity? She scooched herself up until she was kneeling over his face. “What if I smother you?” “Ah, what a good way to go.”

“Oh my god, Max!” she cried as an orgasm started to overtake her. Absurdly, it felt like it started in her toes and moved up her legs in a wave, coming to a head at the juncture between her thighs, where his mouth met her, and just kept . . . exploding. She, not historically a screamer, screamed. He chuckled, and the vibrations joined the aftershocks zinging through her core.

“You can have all those things. Marry me, and you can have whatever you want.”

“My point is you seem to be willing to go to great lengths to ensure the happiness of the people you love. Why aren’t you willing to do that for yourself?”

“Aren’t you afraid?” “Of course I’m afraid. I’d be an idiot not to be. But ultimately, you have to ask yourself—and I’m talking about you, not the proverbial you—is that fear worth more to you than what’s potentially on the other side of it?”

“What do you call it when you go on vacation and have a lot of sex and then you come home and you don’t know how to feel?” Aww, crap. That had just come out. “I think you call that a fling,” Sinéad said. Right. “And what do you call it when you have a fling with a friend?” “I think you call that a mistake.” Yep.

“Do you love him?” “Does it matter?” It didn’t matter if she loved Max. He didn’t love her. Max didn’t lie. And Dani would die before she would repeat her past mistakes for another man who didn’t love her. She was never going to quit her job and move to Eldovia. Well, she was never going to move to Eldovia. She was, however, thinking about quitting her job. But not really. Just idly. Because quitting a tenure-track job was insane. Sinéad shrugged. “I personally can’t think of anything that matters more, but okay. You do you.”

“I know I’m supposed to issue a vaguely ‘You go, girl’ cheer, but maybe the answer is you would give that stuff up for something bigger.” “Like what?” “Love? Love that is not quantifiable in list format? Love for someone who doesn’t have the same flexibility in life that you do?” “But I’m post-love. And Max is . . .” Devastated? “Right.” Leo’s voice had lost its edge but had taken on a totally blank tone, which was somehow more upsetting than the exaggerated patience of a moment ago. “I gotta go. It’s one a.m. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up on her.

pied-á-terre.”

“I know how much you care about how everyone in this family behaves. The ironic part is that you’re the embarrassment. And I’m not just talking about your drunken scenes. You are a monster. You’ve spent my entire life hurting me. You’ve spent our entire lives”—he gestured to Seb—“Hurting us.”

Sometimes, when your life was falling apart, you needed a Christmas movie.

“Max.” Seb set down his phone. “What have we learned in the last year?” “What do you mean?” Seb rolled his eyes. “We’ve learned that love is more important than duty, you numbskull.”

“So what about it?” he said when she pulled back. “Will you marry me?” “Not yet.” He clutched his heart and fell back onto the bed. “Max. It’s too soon. Think of all the upheaval we’ve both experienced. Think of all the upheaval that’s to come.” “Yes, yes,” he said, rolling his eyes like he knew she was right but didn’t care. “We should wait a bit.” He turned serious as he stared at her for several moments. “What about now? Will you marry me now?” “Still no.” “I’m not going to stop asking, you know. I’m going to ask you every single day.” She smiled. “I look forward to it.”

She had learned from Max that sometimes you had to let yourself feel what you felt, even if what you felt went against all reason. Sometimes you had to let yourself change course. Sometimes you had to let yourself love people, even if they had the power to hurt you.

“I only caught the tail end of that conversation, but I have to say you sounded remarkably like a person with a job.” “I did, didn’t I?” He grinned against her lips. “You know what people with jobs make?” “No. What do they make?” “They make excellent husbands. Will you marry me?” She laughed and kissed him again. “Not yet.”

“Of course a duke can date. A duke can do whatever he wants, remember? And as for the New Year’s resolutions, yes, we got them a bit jumbled, but why not embrace that fact and, I don’t know . . . marry me? Instead of dating me?” He winked. “Then you can one-up yourself—you can lose one husband and gain another.”

True to his word, and true to his tendency to guilelessly declare his feelings, Max asked her to marry him at least once a day. But at the same time, he kept arranging things so she would be more comfortable with reality as his wife. As a duchess. Dani smiled and said, “Not yet.” She always made sure to say, “Not yet,” instead of no, because she would marry him one day. She just needed to . . . slow down a bit. To let herself grow into the idea of it.

“Will you marry me?” There it was. She turned. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, bending over as he pulled his underwear on. She smiled. “Yes.” He fell off the bed. “Did you just say yes?” He popped up to standing. “I just said yes.” “Shit!” He started scrambling for his pants, even though he only had one leg through his underwear. “I’m not ready!” “You’re not ready? You’ve only asked me a million times.”

(Only in fairy tales do people get tenure-track jobs in the cities of their choice right after grad school, and only in fairy tales does everyone attend departmental parties and do those parties have open bars!)