Page 27

ONE YEAR LATER: HUGO

T he city of Paris unfolds beneath us like a love letter written in lights and centuries-old stone. I watch Emily lean against the hotel room railing, her profile silhouetted against the evening sky, and I can’t help but marvel at how much has changed in a year.

Over twelve months since she stormed into my life with her matchmaking clipboard and determined smile. A year of learning each other, of building something I never thought possible for someone like me.

“What are you staring at, Your Highness?” she asks, turning to face me with that crooked smile that still makes my stomach flip.

“Just admiring the best view in Paris,” I reply, joining her at the railing.

She rolls her eyes but leans into me, her head finding that perfect spot against my shoulder. “Smooth talker. No wonder you had that reputation.”

“Had,” I emphasize, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Past tense. Very important distinction.”

I’m not the only one who has changed. This last year, she’s been pouring herself into expanding Matchmaking by Emily into new territories.

Just yesterday, before we left for Paris, I watched her training three new matchmakers in her office in Marzieu, her hands animated as she explained her philosophy, her eyes bright with purpose.

Gone is the dating show that she planned on hosting.

Instead, a whole new chapter of her life has begun.

The transition wasn’t easy for her — moving her life to Marzieu six months ago.

She gave up her apartment in Los Angeles, left behind the comfort of daily coffee dates with Nova.

But her best friend visits often enough, bringing her Hollywood stories and infectious laugh that fills the palace halls in a way that makes even the stuffiest royal advisors smile.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?” Emily asks, turning back to the view. “You’ve been mysteriously tight-lipped about our evening itinerary.”

I check my watch. Almost time. “It’s a surprise. But you might want to wear that blue dress. The one that matches your eyes.”

Her smile turns suspicious. “The blue dress is for fancy occasions.”

“And this isn’t a fancy occasion? One year together?” I raise an eyebrow, enjoying the blush that spreads across her cheeks.

“You know what I mean.” She pushes away from the railing. “But fine, I’ll wear the blue dress. For you.”

“For us,” I correct, catching her hand and pulling her back for a kiss.

An hour later, we’re in the back of a car, winding through the evening streets of Paris. Emily keeps trying to guess our destination, each suggestion more outlandish than the last.

“Are we going to break into the Louvre? Midnight hot-air-balloon ride? Wait — are you finally taking me to that cheese shop you’ve been talking about for six months?”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Better.”

The car pulls up to a familiar building, and I watch recognition dawn on her face.

“Hugo,” she breathes. “I didn’t think… Isn’t it closed for renovations?”

“It is,” I confirm, helping her from the car. “But being a prince has its occasional perks.”

The security guard nods respectfully as we approach. “Your Highness,” he says, opening the door. “Mademoiselle. Everything is prepared as requested.”

Emily’s hand tightens around mine as we step inside.

The grand hall is dimly lit, scaffolding visible along the walls, but a clear path leads through to the ballroom.

Unlike the night we attended the gala here, when hundreds of guests filled the space with chatter, and the orchestra played from the corner, tonight it’s silent save for the echo of our footsteps.

“This is… I don’t even know what to say,” Emily whispers, her eyes wide as she takes in the empty grandeur of the space.

I guide her through the ballroom toward the set of French doors that lead to the balcony. “Do you remember?”

Her smile is soft, nostalgic. “How could I forget? You followed me out here. Kissed me…”

The balcony is transformed from how it was a year ago.

Tiny string lights create a canopy overhead, mimicking the stars obscured by Paris’s glow.

A small table holds a bottle of champagne on ice, two flutes next to it.

Rose petals scatter across the stone floor, and the view of the city stretches out before us, just as magical as it was the night we were last here.

That night, I thought I might die from heartbreak. Tonight, I feel as though I have been reborn thanks to love.

Emily’s fingers brush against mine, and I feel that spark — not static from the dry air, but the same jolt of connection I’ve felt for a year.

“You were right.” I turn to face her, taking both her hands in mine. “About everything. About how I was hiding from real relationships because I was afraid of failing at them. Afraid of letting others down.”

The city lights reflect in her eyes, turning them into something magical. “You never failed, Hugo. You just needed to find your balance.”

“And you showed me how.” I squeeze her hands gently. “This past year, watching you live your life has been… inspiring. The way you walked away from that TV show because it didn’t align with your values. How you’re training those new matchmakers, keeping the process personal like you always wanted.”

“I learned that from you, you know,” she says, surprising me. “Watching you lead your country with such care, even when it’s hard. You taught me that compromise doesn’t mean sacrificing what matters most.”

My heart swells at her words. This is only one of the many reasons I love her — her ability to see the best in me, to reflect it back when I need it most.

“When you moved to Marzieu,” I continue, “I felt like our worlds finally aligned. Like the puzzle pieces fell into place.”

“Even though I still can’t pronounce half the street names?” she teases.

“Especially because of that.” I smile, remembering her attempts at local phrases, how the palace staff adore her determined efforts to learn.

“We’re good for each other,” she says, the declaration simple but powerful.

“We’re perfect for each other,” I correct her. “Which is ironic coming from the man who once believed perfect matches do not exist.”

Her smile widens. “I think you said they’re statistically improbable, not impossible.”

“Always the optimist.” I take a deep breath, feeling the importance of the small box in my pocket. “That is one of the countless things I love about you.”

Something in my voice must give me away, because her expression shifts, a flash of realization crossing her features. But I need to do this right, need her to hear everything I’ve been rehearsing for weeks.

“Emily, a year ago we stood on this balcony as two people who somehow recognized something in each other.” I release her hands to reach into my pocket. “I did it wrong that night. I didn’t have my approach planned out. If only I had thought it through, given more care to what I was doing…”

I shake my head, getting choked up. “The past is in the past, and I do not wish to make such a mistake ever again.”

Her breath catches as I lower myself to one knee, the small velvet box now open between us. The ring catches the light from the string lights above — a sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

“You’re the match I never thought to look for,” I continue, my voice shaking from the pounding of my heart. “The partner who challenges me, supports me, and somehow manages to make royal protocol briefings amusing.”

She laughs through the tears that have begun to fall.

“I don’t need a professional matchmaker to tell me that what we have is rare and worth holding on to forever.” I take the ring from its cushion. “Emily Neale, will you marry me? Will you be my wife, my princess, my partner in everything?”

For one breathless moment, the world narrows to just this — her eyes, wide and sparkling with tears; her hands, trembling slightly as they cover her mouth; the significance of the ring between my fingers.

Then she smiles, that beautiful, crooked smile that I fell in love with, and nods.

“Yes,” she says, voice breaking. “Yes, Hugo.”

I slide the ring onto her finger with hands that aren’t quite steady. When I rise to my feet, she throws her arms around my neck, and I lift her, spinning us both in a circle on the balcony where I just took the most important step of my life.

“You know what this means,” I murmur against her hair when I finally set her down. “You’re going to have to learn all those royal protocols you’ve been avoiding.”

She pulls back just enough to fix me with a mock-serious stare. “Does this mean I have to stop calling your great-aunt the ‘Duchess of Disapproving Glances’ behind her back?”

“Absolutely not. It’s the most accurate title she’s ever had.”

Her laughter mingles with the night air, and when we kiss, I taste the salt of happy tears and the promise of all our tomorrows.

In this breathless moment, with the woman I love in my arms and the city of lights spread out below us, I feel the culmination of every step we’ve taken together and the thrilling start of a lifetime ahead.

“I love you,” Emily whispers against my lips.

“I love you too,” I reply, my forehead resting against hers. “Always.”

And as we stand here, wrapped in each other and the Parisian night, I silently thank whatever twist of fate brought the matchmaker who believed in perfect matches into the path of a prince who didn’t believe in forever — until her.

The End

I hope you’ve enjoyed Emily and Hugo’s story!