by Emma Lea
“What do you remember about it?” I asked. He never really spoke about the island nation that was his home.
“I remember the water,” he said, smiling. “The water is this amazing blue, and it sparkles in the sunlight. I remember all the colored buildings built along the coast.”
“Like in Santorini?” I asked, leaning my elbows on the bar and resting my chin on my fists.
He nodded and smiled. “Yeah.” His smile dropped. “But it was getting dangerous just before we left. I remember growing up with this carefree feeling and then suddenly my parents were hustling us off the island and into the U.S.” He blinked up at me. “You’d love it there,” he said.
“It sounds amazing,” I replied. “Maybe we could go over summer? Not to do the king thing, but, you know, just to get away and do some exploring. Just the two of us.”
Lucas nodded, his eyes not leaving mine. “Yeah,” he mumbled.
Lucas
Maybe it was the alcohol muddling my brain, but I was getting an idea. It was a crazy idea and something I would never have even considered if my inhibitions weren’t compromised, but…
I shook my head and sighed. Nah. It would never work.
“What were you just thinking?” Frankie asked, straightening up and narrowing her eyes at me.
“It’s nothing,” I said, reaching for the water again.
“No, you can’t give me a look like that and then withhold,” she said, cocking her hip and crossing her arms. “You have to tell me now. I’m invoking the BFF code of conduct, rule twelve.”
“The BFF code of conduct?” I asked with a wry grin.
Frankie nodded. “Specifically rule twelve which states clearly that a BFF cannot start saying something and then stop abruptly.”
“But it’s stupid,” I said, taking a sip. “Does the rule still apply when I’m drunk and coming up with really idiotic ideas?”
“That’s specifically why the rule was created,” Frankie said. “You know I always want to know any and all of your ideas, especially the idiotic ones you come up with when you’re drunk.”
“Do I do that often?” I asked.
“Stop avoiding the matter at hand and just spill it. What were you thinking just now that you think you can’t tell me?”
“You’d never agree to it.”
She quirked an eyebrow at me and I couldn’t help but grin. Frankie had a way of making everything okay. My life had crashed and burned tonight, but here I was smiling, because of Frankie.
“Just tell me,” she said. “You never know what I might say. I could surprise you, you know. You don’t know everything about me.”
I was pretty sure Frankie and I knew each other better than we knew ourselves, but I shrugged.
“This might be too crazy, even for you.”
It was like waving a red flag at a bull. I had her hooked now, as I knew I would by throwing that comment out. Frankie was my opposite in every way and yet I enjoyed living vicariously through her. Where I was timid and shy, she was confident and loud. Where I was cautious and patient, she was spontaneous and carefree. She was always dragging me out of my comfort zone but doing it in such a way so I always felt safe. I wished I was more like her, and maybe that was why I was even contemplating this brash and out-of-left-field idea.
“Tell me, Lucas,” she said, mock-frowning at me. She was cute when she did that, like a furious kitten. “Let me decide what is too crazy.”
“Well,” I said, hedging. “I was just thinking…it really is crazy, more like a joke actually—”
“Spit it out, Andino,” she growled.
“Well, what if you came with me to Kalopsia?”
“I just suggested that,” she replied with an eye roll.
“Yeah, but you meant as a holiday, I meant as…”
Frankie stilled and blinked at me. “As friends?” she asked quietly. “I mean, would you tell your parents you were taking me as a friend so I could protect you from all the women throwing themselves at you?”
I dropped my eyes, finding the label of the bottle extremely fascinating. “We could pretend to be engaged,” I mumbled.
“Pardon?” Frankie asked. “That sounded a lot like you were asking me to pretend to be your fiancée.”
I groaned and looked up. “See? I told you. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Now hang on a minute,” Frankie said, leaning a hip against the bar, her shirt riding up to expose a sliver of tanned skin that I found ridiculously fascinating.
Frankie on the beach in Kalopsia in a bikini? I was suddenly eager for that to be a thing. It wasn’t like I’d never seen Frankie in a swimsuit before, but I’d never really taken notice. Okay, that was a lie. It was more that Frankie was so far out of my league I didn’t think we were even playing the same game. I’d firmly settled into our friendship and hadn’t once thought about moving beyond that. Okay, that was a lie too, but I’d always known it was pure fantasy and shut it down quick smart.
“Tell me exactly what you had in mind,” she said and my gaze snapped up from that sliver of skin to her dark eyes that were assessing me.
I swallowed. “Um, well, I just thought we could pretend to be engaged, thereby bypassing the whole parental permission thing and then we could go to Kalopsia and I could meet with the king and then we could…stage a break up. Tell people we were better off as friends.”
“Okay. What do I get out of it?” she asked.
“A free trip to Kalopsia? A tour of the palace?”
Frankie pursed her lips and tapped her chin with a finger. Her dark purple nail polish was chipped, and I knew she’d been biting her nails. I wondered why? She only did that when she was worried.
“Oh man,” I said. “You had your dissertation meeting today. How did it go?”
Frankie grimaced. “Badly,” she said. “And stop trying to change the subject.”
A light bulb went off in my head. Maybe I needed to drink scotch more often. The outstanding ideas were coming fast and furious right now.
“You could do your dissertation on Kalopsia,” I proclaimed.
“What?”
“You could write your dissertation on Kalopsia,” I repeated. “They’re a reemerging nation facing lots of social and economic issues after spending a decade under a despot and now trying to establish themselves as a developed and financially stable monarchy.”
Frankie’s eyes glowed as the idea took hold. “I could interview the king,” she said.
“I could make that happen for you,” I agreed. “Especially if you’re there as my fiancée.”
“It would certainly be a unique research paper,” she said thoughtfully.
I reached across the bar and took her hand.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Come around here,” I said, pulling her down the length of the bar so she could walk around to my side of it. I dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring I was still carrying around in my pocket.
“Lucas,” she gasped, looking around the bar.
There were still a few patrons who looked on in interest, not that I cared. I was past caring at this point, and I was desperate.
I flicked open the ring box and Frankie gasped again, her free hand going to her mouth as her eyes widened at the diamond sparkling under the dim bar lights.
“Francesca Davenport, we have been best friends forever and you are literally my favorite person in the world. Please do me the honor of accepting my fake proposal. Please be my fake fiancée.”
“Lucas, I don’t know what to say,” she breathed, looking from me to the ring and back again. “Are you sure about this?”
“More sure than anything else I’ve ever done,” I said, tugging the ring out of the box. “Say yes.”
“Yes,” she said, and I slipped the ring on her finger. It fit perfectly and I blinked at how right it looked on her.
The bar broke out into spontaneous applause and I jumped up, grabbing her and swinging her around before placing a smackin
g kiss on her lips. It was awkward and weird to kiss my best friend and she laughed as she pushed me away.
“Happy?” she asked.
“Ecstatic,” I replied.
Chapter 4
Francesca
I couldn’t stop staring at the sparkling diamond on my finger. I was lying on my back in my bed and holding my hand out in front of me, turning it back and forth and letting the morning sun send refracted rainbows spinning around my room. The solitaire was huge and then there were all those little diamonds set into the platinum band…it was stunning and completely not me…and meant for Clarissa.
I sighed. Yeah. This was the ring Lucas had used to propose to Clarissa. That he turned around and fake proposed to me using it was understandable and completely fiscally responsible, something that Lucas would definitely care about, but not romantic in the least.
Nothing about the situation was romantic. The drunken fake proposal, the second-hand ring, the fact that Lucas had only proposed to me because he needed a fake fiancée so he could escape his parents for a few weeks…or longer.
Huh. Did Lucas’ decision to go to Kalopsia mean he was leaving Boston for good? My gut clenched at the thought of losing him permanently. All these years I’d kept my ridiculous crush on him locked down so I could keep him in my life. Having Lucas as my best friend was better than not having him in my life at all. But now, by agreeing to pose as his fake fiancée, had I inadvertently given him a way to escape not just his family, but me too?
And just what exactly did it mean to be a part of the royal court of Kalopsia? What did it entail? Did he have to live in Kalopsia? Would he have a job? There were so many questions I didn’t have answers to and I was too scared to ask Lucas for the answers. I didn’t want to know if wearing this ring meant I would lose him.
“Frankie? Are you awake?”
“I’m up!” I called back to my mom.
“Breakfast is ready.”
I groaned and pushed myself up to a sitting position and took another look at the ring on my finger. Reluctantly, I pulled it off and crossed to my dresser to stash the very expensive ring in my junk jewelry box.
I pulled on a pair of yoga pants and an over-sized t-shirt and headed downstairs.
Yes, I still lived with my parents, so what? So did pretty much everyone else in their early- to mid-twenties. My parents owned a three-story brownstone in downtown Boston and I had the entire top floor to myself. I even had a kitchenette, but it was just as easy to eat with Mom and Dad. Besides, they had a cleaner come in three days a week and cleaned the place from top to bottom, and a cook who came in twice a week did a whole lot of meal prep for us. Mom and Dad lived busy lives, but when we got the chance to share a meal together, we did. I enjoyed spending time with my parents. They were cool and always gave excellent advice whenever I needed it. As long as I was working and studying in Boston, I didn’t see a reason to move out.
Mom and Dad were in the kitchen together. Mom was flipping pancakes on the grill and Dad was prepping the myriad of toppings.
“Morning, Pumpkin,” Dad said as I pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Late night?”
I groaned. “Yeah. Work was dead, but Lucas came in just before closing.”
“Oh?” Mom asked, turning around and wiggling her eyebrows at me. “You two hung out after work?”
I rolled my eyes. Mom had been trying to get me and Lucas together for years. She loved him, so did Dad, and Lucas loved them in return. It was just one big love-fest whenever he came over.
“Yeah, he needed consoling,” I replied with a sigh as I took some pancakes and smothered them in berries, maple syrup, and whipped cream. “He proposed to Clarissa last night, and she broke up with him.”
I didn’t mention the other bit of news…I wasn’t quite ready to discuss it with them. I would tell them—the truth, not the fake news—I just needed to make sure Lucas didn’t suddenly wake up and retract his offer. It could happen. Lucas was more than likely hyperventilating over it right now.
“I never liked her,” Mom said, turning the grill off and taking the plate Dad handed to her.
“Now, Livvie,” Dad said, and Mom rolled her eyes.
“You can’t tell me you liked her, Adam,” she said.
Dad sighed. “Whether I liked her is not the point. Lucas did, and it is our job to support him.”
Mom grunted as she shoved a mouthful of pancake in her mouth, and I suppressed a smile. My dad was the consummate peacemaker and Mom was the opinionated one. It was where I got it from.
“Oh, and there’s other news too,” I said. “The king has summoned Lucas.”
“The king? Which king?” Dad asked.
“The new king of Kalopsia,” I replied. “The island in the Mediterranean where the Andinos are from.”
“What did the king want?” Mom asked.
“He wants Lucas to be part of his court,” I replied, taking another bite of pancake. “With a title and everything,” I mumbled around my mouthful.
“That’ll be good for Lucas,” Dad said. “He needs a chance to grow into himself.”
“When does he leave?” Mom asked.
“Next month, I think,” I said, putting my fork down. Now would be the perfect time to tell them about the other development, but…I needed to talk to Lucas first and make sure this was still what he wanted. I couldn’t deny being excited about the prospect of jetting off to a Mediterranean island for a few weeks and I was even more excited about the prospect of having finally nailed down a subject for my dissertation, but I would be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that the idea of spending a few weeks with Lucas wasn’t also a big draw card.
Totally as platonic friends, of course. I mean, I missed my buddy. We didn’t get to spend as much time together as we used to, and now that he and Clarissa had broken up, it would be nice for it to be just the two of us again.
Lucas
I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, groping for the remote to close the blinds. The whirring noise as the blinds slid closed made me wince, and I rolled over, burying my face on my pillow and praying for death to come on silent feet and whisk me away into the ever after.
What the heck happened last night?
I’d had my fair share of hangovers, it was a byproduct of being part of a family who distilled hard liquor, but this was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
Why? Why had I gotten so drunk…and more to the point, what the heck had I been drinking?
I groaned again and flopped back onto my back, blinking my eyes open to stare up at the ceiling, thankful the blinds had dimmed the room. Something must have gone terribly wrong for me to be feeling like this today, unless I’d contracted some sort of killer flu…but no, I didn’t feel flu-ish. This was definitely a hangover. So…why?
I rubbed my face, my stubble rasping far-too loudly on my hands, and pushed up to lean against the bedhead. My mouth was bone dry and my tongue felt like sandpaper. I needed about a gallon of water and two-dozen Tylenol…okay, not that many, I wasn’t that reckless.
I wasn’t that reckless.
No, I wasn’t, so what had prompted me to get blackout drunk? I most definitely hadn’t been drinking raïda. I’d had enough raïda hangovers to know this wasn’t the same.
So what did I remember?
I had a date with Clarissa. I was taking her to Menton, and I was going to propose.
I took a breath as my gut clenched with the familiar anxiety I’d felt on the drive to pick her up.
Okay, so I went to her place, and she…didn’t like my tie. Right. And then we fought on the way to the restaurant, although, fought was too strong of a word to describe the disagreement we had about the route I’d chosen. Dinner had been fine even if Clarissa had seemed a little distant and then I proposed and then…
Oh God.
She said no.
The memory of the most embarrassing moment of my life rushed back into my head and I winced. She’d not only refused my proposal, but she’d broken u
p with me in front of the entire restaurant. Thank goodness we were at the swanky Menton where people were too polite to film me crashing and burning and then posting it to social media.
God…I hope no one filmed it and posted it to social media. My mother would kill me.
I sighed and squeezed my eyes closed. Okay. I started drinking after she left me sitting at the table alone with a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of diamond ring mocking me. How could I have misread the situation so badly? I’d thought Clarissa wanted me to propose. I thought she’d been subtly hinting for me to propose.
But no. She’d fallen in love with someone else. Someone who was more exciting than me. Someone who could give her passion and…and…and what? It sounded way too out of control for my liking.
Okay, fine. Clarissa broke up with me. I could live with that. My heart wasn’t broken, despite my night of over indulging in…scotch. That’s what it was. Yeah, I didn’t think I’d ever drink another glass of scotch as long as I lived.
With another hearty groan, I forced myself out of bed and stumbled into the adjoining bathroom. I needed a shower and to brush my teeth and water to slake this ridiculous thirst.
I grabbed the Tylenol out of the bathroom cabinet and filled a glass with water. I gulped the water greedily and swallowed the pills, praying they would work immediately.
I stripped off as the shower heated and then I slid under the water with a groan of relief. I would be forever grateful for running water and hot showers.
I let the water pound on my neck and shoulders and breathed in the steam, hoping it would help clear my head. There was something about the night before I was forgetting…something important. I didn’t know what was more important than my girlfriend of two years breaking up with me at the exact moment I proposed to her, but the feeling remained. It was an irritating itch under my skin.
As the shower slowly made me feel more and more human, my brain kicked into gear and I ran through my to-do list for the day. Saturday meant I didn’t have to go in to the office, but if I still planned to go to Kalopsia, then I needed to make sure all my work was up-to-date and even ahead of schedule. And I’d have to return the ring.
