May 2. Prince Residence - Santorini, Greece. 17:47.
Bruce
"Don't even think about it, Bruce."
Diana stares at me from the corner of her eye, her brow furrowed in an attempt to seem serious, but the faint curl of her lip into that devious smile shows me she is still giddy from talking about the wedding. We've been talking about this, what we want to incorporate, who we want there to celebrate alongside us, where we want to have it, and all are things we can agree on easily or are quick to compromise on, but there is still one thing neither of us can settle on: a date. Since proposing two months ago, Diana and I have constantly gone back and forth, both set on our own timeline for our impending nuptials. Diana would like to wait a while, get everything in order, plan properly and have plenty of time to get things settled with work. Me? Hell, I would marry her this afternoon if I could.
I had waited long enough to be in a relationship with her, waited even longer to tell her how I truly felt. I didn't want to waste anymore time unnecessarily, wanting to start my life as her husband as soon as possible.
"What?" I ask innocently, absentmindedly flipping through one of the open magazines atop the bed we lay on, casually discussing the wedding and other events that will fill the year's calendar, waiting on Hippolyta to come back from the office. "You don't think a nice summer wedding would be wonderful," I ask, tilting my head as I flash that smirk I know she can't ignore.
Diana, who has her own wedding magazine grasped firmly in her own hands, turns her head to glare at me, shaking it profusely at the question. "Not if it's this summer," she comments. "You know how much we have going on in the museum right now. That is not enough time to get everything done."
"You forget who you're marrying," I say, but the look in Diana's eyes as she turns to face me once more tells me she is in no mood to discuss the idea any further. I let out a sigh and fall back onto the bed we have been sharing for the last few days, staring up into the ceiling of the villa Hippolyta owns. This trip had been planned months in advance and I had hoped seeing the beautiful weather back in her hometown would persuade Diana that a summer wedding, with the sunshine and ocean breeze providing the perfect backdrop, would be the picture perfect wedding. She had politely shut down that idea, stating both our work schedules would not allow us to take much time off during the summer.
I had offered to hire a wedding planner, wanting to lighten a bit of stress of the load Diana had been carrying, but she simply refused. She wanted to do this herself, and I wasn't going to deny her that.
"What about March?" she asks, her eyebrow raising as she mentally plans a few details, convinced I will agree, and as much as I would love to, I have prior obligations.
"I'll be in Germany for half the month," I say, reminding her of the business trip that has been in the works for over a year. Her eyes close and she lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as she grows increasingly more frustrated. "I'm still loving the summer wedding," I comment once more, the cocky smirk on my face growing as I reach out to touch her back. Her shoulders tense and she closes the magazine in her hands, placing it on top of the mattress as she swings her feet over the edge of the bed and stands.
"I've already said no," she says, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Why are you so stubborn," I find myself asking, however seeing her shoulders tense even more, I realize the comment should have never left my lips. Diana turns to face me, her face tensing as she becomes angry, huffs, and storms out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her as she stomps down the stairs. "Why, Bruce," I reprimand myself, "why must you push her buttons."
Getting out of bed, I carefully place the magazine I had absentmindedly been browsing through back onto the pile by the foot of the bed, and follow Diana out of the room. Descending the stairs I can hear her talking to someone in Greek. Her tone is angry, and even though I've picked up a few words and phrases since high school, she's speaking too quickly for me to comprehend anything.
Diana finishes and lets out a huff as her companion chuckles before she responds, letting me know it is Donna she has run into and has been complaining to about me; if there was one word I understood throughout that entire rant, it was my name.
I turn the corner, forcing myself from my hiding spot, and step into the family room. Diana and Donna quiet when they see me, the three of us staring at each other, until Diana lets out a huff and walks out the room. When I try to take a step toward my fiance, Donna steps in the way, places a hand on my shoulder, and shakes her head. "Let her cool down," she says calmly, and as much as I want to apologize to Diana, I know Donna is right about her sister.
I give Donna a reluctant nod and throw my head back, letting out a sigh as her hand retreats from my shoulder. She takes a seat on the edge of the couch and waits for me to follow, her blue eyes staring at me until I comply and take a seat on the chair across from her. Her eyes continue to stare at me, watching every breath I take, studying me. Since the moment Diana and I announced we were dating, she has kept a close eye on me, and for good reason. Diana is her sister, and she would never let anything happen to her.
The two have been close, well as close as two people with an age gap as big as theirs can be. Ten years her junior, Donna joined the family when Diana was just heading off to college. After her mother died, and her father had abandoned her, Hippolyta and Diana were the only family Donna had, and after much consideration, and much convincing from Diana, Hippolyta had taken the child in and raised her like her own. At first it had been an adjustment, as Donna had just become an orphan at the age of eight, something I knew much too well, but Diana spent most of the summer before college helping her become acclimated to life with her mother, and again the following summer when Hippolyta had decided they were going to move back to Greece. In fact, our first year of college, I don't think Diana spent an entire weekend on campus, choosing to make the three hour drive each Friday night to spend time with Donna.
Diana knew Donna needed a friend, and after having her own father walk out on her life, Diana knew she could form a connection with her. She gave her advice on how to deal with Hippolyta's constant overbearing nature, even if it was out of love, and the two became inseparable. Donna was part of the reason Diana had returned to Greece for a time, knowing the girl was having a hard time acclimating to the country and her new found family. It was one of the reasons I fell in love with Diana. She was, is, so willing to sacrifice her own personal needs for her family, leaving the country to help the distant relative she didn't know she hadn't known about for years.
But as I continue to watch Donna stare at me, I wonder just how distant the two are. Donna looks just like Diana. The two have the same dark wavy hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same tall, muscular, yet slender build. It's uncanny.
"So, she's pretty angry?" I ask, even though I know the answer. Diana doesn't storm off much, but when she does, it's usually because she has good reasons. I only hope I can apologize before I ruin the rest of the trip for her. It's not very often she gets to see her family and I want her to have nothing but the best of times.
Donna nods and chuckles, leaning back into the couch as her arms fold over her chest. "Understandably so," she comments. She watches my face, watching as I raise an eyebrow in confusion, before she adds, "Bruce, it's not that Diana doesn't want to get married as soon as possible. She does. But did you ever think that maybe this summer isn't the best time for her?"
I nod. I know she has a million and one things to do and maybe I've been a bit selfish about this whole thing. I can move my schedule around much easier than Diana can, and I never took into consideration how preoccupied with work she has been. I suddenly feel like an idiot and a jerk for the comments I've made to Diana.
"When she came to Greece, she gave up a job offer in New York," Donna explains, "and when she got back to Gotham, she had to fight for the job she has now." I never knew she gave up a job offer. I want to ask Diana about it when I see her again, but the look on Donna's face tells me I should think otherwise. She looks guilty. She looks as though she blames herself for Diana giving up that dream job to come and help her through a rough patch, and the look in her eyes tells me she will never stop feeling that way. I suddenly realize it is not something that needs to be brought up again.
"When the two of you started dating, and Diana got into the papers and tabloids, there was talk about her being dismissed from her job."
Her words spark an emotion in me that I can only describe as both anger and sadness. I never wanted Diana to lose her job, lose anything, because of me. I knew when we started dating the press was going to have a field day with printing any and all details about our relationship, no matter how accurate or fabricated they had been. Her life was going to be scrutinized by people who knew nothing about her, and although I tried to keep her name out of the papers, never wanting that for her, I suppose rumors and lies spread elsewhere. Had I known her job had been in jeopardy, I would have been a bit more cautious on how we approached everything.
"She never told me this," I say. My hand clenches into a fist and I take a deep breath, trying to control the anger that is rising within my chest.
Donna shrugs. "I told her to, but Diana is stubborn. You and I both know that." She lets out a chuckle and adds, "Hell, all of Santorini knows this." While Diana in the spotlight is not a new development, after all, her mother is essentially royalty here in Greece, she hasn't been in the papers since she was eight. But even as a child, she was as stubborn and headstrong as she is now, and if Hippolyta's stories are any forewarning, any children we have are going to be nearly impossible to sway away from something they want.
"She convinced them your relationship would not affect her job, and she's made good on that promise for over a year. Diana has worked hard, has put in extra hours, has proved herself time and time again. If she neglects her duties to get married this summer, when there are two galas and another exhibit planning to open in September, who knows how this is going to affect her."
My heart sinks when I realize everything Donna has said is true. I never knew Diana's job had been threatened because of her association with me, but if I had paid attention, I would've seen the signs. I knew Diana worked hard, harder than most, but I never knew it was because she feared losing her job. After all, she had already given up one dream job, I couldn't be the reason behind her losing another. I am suddenly overwhelmed by guilt. I have been selfish, more so than usual, and I owe her so much more. I should be working with Diana, not against her. I should be getting married when we both feel it is right. It isn't right of me to want to rush her for my own selfish wants.
"I'm an idiot," I mumble, dropping my head into my hands and letting out a sigh.
"No," someone says, and my head snaps up to see both Hippolyta and Antiope, her girlfriend, standing behind Donna. Hippolyta offers me a small smile and takes a seat next to Donna, placing her arm around the girl that has become her second daughter, before she leans in and kisses the teen's head. "You're not an idiot, Bruce," she says as she stares at me and I wonder just how much of this conversation she and Antiope have heard. "You two have been best friends for years, so naturally you've both clicked fairly well for a majority of the time. Sure there have been a few spats here and there and as I recall you two didn't talk for nearly a month your Junior year."
I try not to let my face give away anything, as the only reason Diana and I had gotten into that argument resulting in our avoidance of each other in the first place was because we had slept together. Once we started talking again, deciding to forget about the whole thing, Diana had let it slip that she had lied to her mother saying we had argued about a class project, but Hippolyta was smart.
"And don't think I didn't know why you were arguing," she says, narrowing her eyes at me. Guess Diana wasn't as convincing as she thought. "The point is," she begins, "You two need to be flexible and take each others' needs and priorities into account. There are going to be days when you're not readily available for her and there will be days when she's not readily available for you. You work through it, and compromise."
As Hippolyta finishes her lecture, Antiope walks up to the woman and takes a seat beside her, placing a hand on the older woman's knee. "That and you'll have to learn the Prince women are stubborn but they mean well," she teases, turning to Hippolyta who only scowls, offended by her comment.
"How dare you," Hippolyta says, feigning insult as Donna and Antiope share a laugh. Antiope kisses Hippolyta's cheek and offers me a smile, however I am only convinced that everything is going to be okay when Hippolyta joins in and smiles widely as well. "Don't worry, Bruce," she says, "you two will figure it out."
It is dark when the door to Diana and my shared bedroom creaks open and she walks inside, her skin covered in a sheen of sweat and her cheeks are flushed. Her earbuds are still in her ears, blasting the soundtrack to her run, so she doesn't hear that I am still up, but I haven't been able to stop thinking since she left. For the past three hours I have done nothing but think, and now that she's here, I want to run a new idea by her.
She continues to bob her head as the music continues to flow through the wireless devices, her heart rate still elevated from running the all too familiar streets of her childhood home. A part of me wants to reach out and touch her arm, wipe the sweat from her brow, and let her know I'm awake, but I also enjoy watching her as she sits on the edge of the bed, slowly pulling her shirt over her head. She turns to flip on the light by the bed, letting out a small shriek when she sees me sitting up and staring at her.
Her hand instinctively goes to cover her bra clad chest before she realizes it's only me and lets out a sigh of relief. "I didn't realize you were still up," she whispers. She pulls the earbuds from her ears and places them in their charging container, carefully placing them on the desk beside the window along with her phone.
I quietly flip on the bedside lamp, watching as she pulls the tie from her hair, letting it fall out of the ponytail into a pool down her back, before she pulls off her socks and tosses them into the adjoining bathroom. "Couldn't sleep," I confess. It's partially true. I couldn't sleep without Diana here, safe and sound beside me, but I wanted to make sure she knew I was sorry for everything that happened this evening.
I pat the spot on the bed next to where I lay and I watch as she contemplates the offer, lets out a small sigh, and obliges, laying down beside me. I let her get comfortable before I roll onto my side, watching as her eyes widen in surprise, before I lean down and kiss her softly. "I'm all sweaty," she whispers, letting me know she wants to shower soon, before she kisses me back.
I nod. "I know," I start, "but I want to talk to you before you jump into the shower." She gives me a nod and sits up, watching as I copy her pose, sitting in the center of the mattress. I grab her hand and give it a gentle squeeze, before I lift it to my lips and place a kiss on the back of her hand. "I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't realize how selfish I was being about this whole thing."
She says nothing so I continue, "You have given up so much for me. You've been scrutinized by the media, and I know planning this with work hasn't been easy." She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, unable to believe Donna told me what she had confided in her sister about her job. I know she doesn't want me to worry, but I can't help it. I love her so much and her problems, by default, become mine.
"Donna told you?" she asks. I only nod and she lets out another sigh. "Bruce, I never wanted you to feel like I couldn't come to you. I just-"
"I know, Diana," I say. I know she can handle herself. I know she doesn't need me to save her. "I'm sorry."
Diana scoots over to where I sit and places her head on my shoulder, gently kissing the skin of my shoulder, and I wrap my arms around her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. "I do want to ask your opinion on something," I say and she nods against my skin. "We started our relationship on the first," I begin. "Maybe that's when we should get married?"
Diana tenses for a moment, pondering over what I've just said, before she pulls back and looks me in the eye. "A winter wedding?" she asks.
I nod, flash her a smile, and bite my bottom lip as I consider the option I've just given her. "To persuade you a little more," I begin, "Neither of us will be swamped with work during that time. We both are free from other obligations, and we're going to have family around anyway."
She stares at me, contemplating what I've said. I can see her mind is running a million miles a minute, her eyes shifting from my face to the wall behind me as she tries to see if this is a viable option. I watch as she begins to count on her fingers, mentally calculating everything. "Two years ago I started the year as your boyfriend. Next year I'd love to start the year as your husband."
She is still for a moment before she turns to face me and smiles. She leans in and places a kiss on my lips, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling me close. "January 1st," she says, "Did we just agree on a date?"
I am unable to help the smile that forms on my lips as she leans in for another kiss. "Yes," I answer and she gets giddy. The wedding planning is back on and now with a date set in place, we can finally get back to planning for the wedding and our future.
She rises from the bed and walks to the bathroom, discarding her leggings when she steps into the bathroom. She turns to face me and raises an eyebrow, flashing a smirk toward where I sit, the hint obvious. "Is my fiance going to join me?" she asks flirtatiously, disappearing behind the bathroom door. Her bra is discarded onto the floor and it is all the motivation I need as I jump off the bed and rush toward the bathroom where Diana has started the shower, letting the room fill with the steam provided by the hot water.
Diana squeals when I discard my own clothes once I'm inside the bathroom and wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my naked body. January first this woman is going to be my wife, and I cannot wait until I see her walk down that aisle, ready to start the rest of our lives together. Only eight more months to go.
