Lacey flew out of her room and pounded on Ava’s door. “Ava, let me in.” Her voice cracked.
Do not cry. You can cry all you want once you find Ava, but you cannot weep in the middle of a gilded hallway.
No amount of mental lecturing could keep her voice from breaking, though. “Please.”
How could this be happening? Of all the things she could’ve left behind in Florida, why did it have to be the pretty lilac gown she was supposed to wear to the ball?
Lacey’s eyes stung with the effort to hold back her tears. She felt her lower lip begin to wobble, so she bit down hard on it while she waited for Ava to open the door and let her inside.
She wasn’t sure what her friend could possibly do to help the situation. What was done was done. She’d already written the letter to Henry explaining she wouldn’t be at the ball. Miss Marie was probably handing it to him right this very second. Lacey knew if she’d waited to write it until after she’d seen Ava, she wouldn’t have had the courage to pick up the pen.
Besides, knowing Ava, she would’ve insisted Lacey wear her flowy red dress with the dainty bow at the waist. She would’ve gladly traded places with Lacey and sat this one out. Well, maybe not gladly…but she would’ve done it. And once Ava got an idea into her head, she never took no for an answer.
Lacey couldn’t let Ava do that, though. Bringing the wrong dress had been her screw-up, and there was no way Lacey was going to let Ava miss out on her one and only chance to attend a royal ball. Plus there was definitely something more than just friendship going on between Ava and Ian. Ava was probably looking forward to tonight as much as Lacey had been.
A rebellious tear slid down Lacey’s cheek as she rested her forehead against the closed door to Ava’s room. Maybe it was best that her friend wasn’t in her suite. Lacey didn’t want to bring her down and ruin her evening. But right at that moment, she could’ve definitely used a hug.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight. What was it Ross from Friends had so deliriously said when everything around him was falling apart?
I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
For once, quotes from her favorite television show didn’t make Lacey feel the slightest bit better. Had she really been foolish enough to think she and Henry belonged together?
After another futile tap on the door, she gave up, wiped her face, and headed back to her room. Maybe she could throw her things into a suitcase, summon an Uber, and catch a late-night flight back to the States. She’d simply text Ava from the airport and tell her not to worry. They’d see each other soon, back at home. Or maybe she’d hunker down at the airport in Nice and wait for Ava to show up for her flight in the morning. Lacey didn’t know. Her thoughts were spiraling. She just wasn’t sure she could face Henry after tonight. Saying goodbye to him seemed almost impossible, even if she knew in her heart that it was the right—the proper—thing to do.
Did Bella-Moritz even have Ubers? Or did everyone in the kingdom travel via golden, horse-drawn carriage?
Goodness, she was losing her mind. She needed to get back to her pretend life in her pretend castle, where she knew her place.
Tears spilled over, blurring Lacey’s vision as she flung her door open and returned to her room. She choked on a sob, but all her breath seemed to bottle up tight in her throat when she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Ava, thank goodness.” Lacey blinked back her tears and threw herself toward the blurry figure dressed in a deep red, floor-length gown and standing in front of the antique wardrobe, where Lacey’s Princess Sweet Pea costume was bursting from the garment bag in all of its fluffy, theme-park glory. “I was just looking for you. I—”
Her words died on her tongue. Now that Lacey was closer and she’d wiped a fresh wave of tears from her eyes, she saw the woman dressed in the beautiful red gown with her hands clasped behind her back wasn’t Ava at all.
It was the queen.
“You.” Lacey attempted to swallow around the hard lump in her throat and instead made a humiliating, anguished noise that barely sounded human. She was certain weeping was probably against the royal rules. She’d never once seen Queen Elizabeth break down in tears.
Yet another reason Lacey was way out of her element. Life was messy sometimes. She was messy. It didn’t seem right to have to hold everything inside.
Still, crying in front of Henry’s mother made her feel ill—spinning-teacup-ride-after-swallowing-three-mermaid-tail-ice-cream-bars-in-rapid-succession sick to her stomach.
She sniffed in a horribly un-regal manner, one last desperate attempt to get ahold of herself. “I mean, Your Majesty. Um, what are you doing here?”
It wasn’t the politest greeting in the world, but Lacey was too heartbroken for niceties. She was doing the right thing—she was leaving before she accidentally spilled the beans and told Prince Charming she’d fallen head over heels in love with him. She’d worry about her manners later.
Queen Elloise didn’t seem fazed by the abrupt question, though. As always, she seemed as cool as a cucumber—if cucumbers wore crowns, that is. A dazzling tiara was perched on top of her dark hair, which had been fashioned into a sleek French twist. Every stone in the crown’s platinum, filigree setting glittered like sunlight on a cool, clear ocean. It was so beautiful that Lacey’s head spun for a second. Never had she been so aware of the difference between the real deal and the plastic crown she anchored to her head with thirty-five bobby pins every day for work.
No wonder Mark had always gotten so irritated when she forgot to take it off.
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” the queen said, and then she unclasped her hands from behind her back and held up a familiar sheet of paper.
My letter.
Lacey let out a shaky sigh. Could this situation get any more terrible?
“I know you’re wondering, so I’ll just come out and tell you. Yes, I’ve read it,” the queen said. Then her voice went bittersweet. “And no, my son has not.”
Lacey’s entire body seemed to exhale. Henry hadn’t read her letter? She’d poured her soul into those words. That letter had been the most difficult and humbling thing she’d ever had to write. As much as she’d loved her time in Bella-Moritz, there’d been moments where it had seemed like a boulder had been sitting square on top of her chest. She hadn’t wanted to let anyone down—not Rose, and especially not Henry. When she’d unzipped her garment bag and found her Sweet Pea costume instead of the lovely organza gown she was supposed to wear to the ball, the boulder had seemed to double in size. Then, as she’d thought more about Mark’s phone call and about how she hadn’t even been proper enough for him, let alone a prince…she’d been crushed beyond repair. As heartbreaking as it had been, writing the letter to Henry had allowed her to finally breathe.
And now here was the queen, telling her he hadn’t even seen it.
Lacey should be crushed all over again. The last thing in the world she should be feeling right now was relief, and yet…
A tiny spark of it glittered inside her, along with something she’d hadn’t let herself feel since she’d landed in Henry’s kingdom…something she’d foolishly let herself lose sight of the night she’d broken up with Mark. Hope.
Lacey glanced down at her handwriting on the thick ivory paper in the queen’s hands. The monarch may as well have been holding Lacey’s heart in her palm.
“Marie came to me because she wanted me to know there was a problem with your ballgown. She said you’d asked her to deliver a note to Henry and she was worried you were going to miss tonight’s festivities. As I said, there seems to have been a misunderstanding,” Henry mother said, folding the paper into a neat square, banishing Lacey’s words from sight.
“A misunderstanding?” Lacey shook her head. “I’m not following.”
“I had my doubts when Henry told me he’d invited you to come visit during the Flower Festival, and I’ll admit I was a bit…confused…by your chosen profession. But please know that was only out of concern for Henry and Rose. Rose suffered a terrible loss when her mother died, as I’m sure you understand.” Queen Elloise reached for Lacey’s hand and gave it a tender squeeze.
The display of affection was so unexpected that a dam broke inside Lacey, and another tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away and gave Henry’s mother a wobbly smile.
“But children are sometimes far more resilient than adults. Rose has always been an open book, just waiting for the right person—the right mother figure—to take notice of her and lovingly tend to her story. Henry, on the other hand…” Queen Elloise took a deep breath, and to Lacey’s complete and total astonishment, she saw the hard glitter of tears in the monarch’s eyes. “He closed himself up. I didn’t think he’d risk losing his heart to anyone ever again, and believe me, I’ve done my share of prodding. What was it you said last night?”
Lacey was at a loss. She’d said a lot of things the night before, but all she could seem to remember was rambling on about cozy mystery novels and other things Queen Elloise probably had zero interest in. She’d also asked the queen to scroll through the picture roll on her phone, as if they were BFFs chatting over whipped frappuccinos at the corner Starbucks. Super-royal behavior.
“You said that seeing their children happy and thriving meant more to a parent than anything else in the world. I think I’d given up on that for Henry.” The queen squeezed Lacey’s hand even harder—so hard that the knuckles of her elegant fingers turned white. “Until you came along.”
Wait. What?
“But Henry is royal,” Lacey said. “He’s going to be a king someday.” She glanced at the queen’s sparkling crown for emphasis. It was a wonder she wasn’t blinded by the luster of so many diamonds. “I’m just a commoner.”
“Lacey, dear. Anyone who’s been paying attention over the past few days can see you’re anything but common.”
Lacey’s mouth dropped open. Ava had told her the very same thing back at their apartment in Fort Lauderdale, but of course her best friend would think so. Things were different here in Bella-Moritz.
Were they, though? Henry and Rose and Queen Elloise were indeed royal, but they were also a family. Perhaps behind the palace doors, family came first too, even before the bonds of king and country.
“I know it was you who helped Rose overcome her fear of riding in the procession, yet you refused to take credit for it. And I know the butterfly feeders at the flower festival were your idea,” the queen said.
Lacey lowered her gaze. Busted.
“‘Always make friends with birds and butterflies.’ How could I forget?” The queen dipped her head to look Lacey in the eye. “Those rules of yours aren’t quite as simple as they appear at first. They come from someplace deep inside you, and take my word for it, dear. Nothing is more royal or proper than authenticity.”
It took every ounce of self-control Lacey possessed to not throw her arms around the queen and hug her. Protocol or not, she probably would have, if she hadn’t been worried about ruining the queen’s gorgeous red gown with her runny mascara and tear-stained cheeks.
“So, it’s all settled, then.” Henry’s mother released Lacey’s hand and gave her one of the commanding looks she was exceptionally adept at wielding about. “You’ll go to the ball as planned.”
Lacey glanced at her Princess Sweet Pea dress hanging beside them and winced. “I can’t. I brought the wrong garment bag by mistake, and the only gown I have is my costume from the theme park.”
“Ah, that’s right. I’d almost forgotten.” The queen’s lip twitched as if she were trying not to laugh.
Authenticity might be regal and all, but that didn’t mean it was always fashionable.
“Come with me. I’m sure we can find you something else to wear. In fact, I have a tiara decorated with tiny seed pearls that would be lovely on you.” The queen winked.
Lacey was so overcome that she couldn’t stop herself anymore. She wrapped her arms around the monarch and gave her the biggest, most effusive bear hug she could muster. Queen Elloise gasped in surprise, but quickly recovered and hugged Lacey back.
The last thing Lacey saw before she squeezed her eyes closed and melted into the hug was her puffy pink princess gown, and she realized she was kind of glad she’d brought it with her by mistake. She wouldn’t have wanted to miss this special moment with Queen Elloise. It was the stuff of fairy tales—pure storybook magic.
In all honesty, it was better. Because Lacey had years of experience with fairy godmothers, but it had been a long, long time since she’d been wrapped up in the warm embrace of motherly love.