Page 81 of Matched with the Grumpy Secret Prince

Graham groans, rubbing his temple. “We talked about this, Father. Please—don’t scare her off.”

The entire room erupts into laughter, even Isaac, who up until now had been watching me carefully.

And just like that—I feel at home.

Dinner is filled with stories and laughter, the kind that makes you forget you’re sitting in a castle surrounded by royalty.

Eleanor tells childhood stories about Graham, some of which make him groan and shake his head and others that make me grip his knee under the table, breathless from laughter.

“Graham was always so stubborn,” she says, amused, sipping her wine. “Once, when he was seven, he declared he was running away because he didn’t want to wear formal shoes to a royal event. He packed exactly three cookies and a toy sword and made it all the way to the east gardens before the guards found him.”

I choke on my drink, turning to him in shock. “You ran away because of shoes?”

Graham scowls, reaching for his glass. “They were uncomfortable.”

Isaac snorts, leaning back in his chair. “Oh, please. Tell her the best part.”

Eleanor grins. “He threw the shoes into the palace fountain out of pure spite.”

I burst out laughing, my head falling back, and Graham shook his head, muttering, “I should have left you all behind years ago.”

But even as he pretends to sulk, his hand slides under the table, finding mine.

I freeze slightly, my fingers instinctively curling against his warm, steady touch.

Surprised, I look at him, and he’s already watching me.

Then, without saying a word, he mouths?—

I love you.

My heart clenches, my breath catching.

I squeeze his hand, swallowing the warmth rising in my throat, and mouth it back.

I love you, too.

Halfway through dinner, Eleanor sighs dramatically, setting down her silverware. “All right, let’s get to the important part.”

I blink, confused, as everyone at the table suddenly turns to Graham and me.

“When’s the wedding?” Eleanor asks, completely serious.

I nearly choke on my food. I glance at Graham, but he smirks as if he expected his mother to ask this question. He looks genuinely unperturbed.

Graham laughs, shaking his head. “I haven’t even proposed yet.”

His father scoffs, waving a hand. “Then hurry up. Your brother’s getting married in three months. It would be nice to have a double royal wedding.”

A double royal wedding? My breath catches, and I cough, eyes watering as my brain scrambles to keep up.

“Take it easy, Soph,” Graham says, handing me a glass of water, but I don’t miss the knowing smile on his lips. He’s enjoying this.

I gape, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks as everyone laughs like this is just another casual dinner conversation.

Graham chuckles, bringing my hand to his lips for a gentle kiss. “You see what I deal with?”

I fail at trying to suppress my laughter and shake my head.

Because, honestly?

I’ve never felt more at home.