Almost My Prince

by Miranda King

  “Granny!” Divina and I said.

  “You need a real man, Sass,” said Granny. “Not wimpy college boys who didn’t know how to get past second base.”

  Okay, she could’ve left out that detail. Nathan was in the room!

  “Now I can tell this man knows a thing or two in the bedroom. I’ll take him if you don’t,” Granny said. “He’s a walking SOS.”

  Divina choked on her tea.

  “Sex on a Stick,” I added for Nathan. “Sorry, Granny’s generation believed in ‘Free Love’ and all that.”

  He chuckled.

  Despite Granny’s bold words, she was—thankfully, in this case—All Talk, No Action.

  She had been faithful to Grandpa for thirty years, even though Grandpa had been married to another woman the entire time, even though he’d never married Granny, and even though he’d died trying to marry her the day his divorce was finalized.

  Time had stopped for Granny that day. She lived in her memories.

  Mom chased the future, betting away everything, including me, on a man who didn’t love her.

  I was caught somewhere in between them.

  Granny stroked the side of my face. “I don’t mean to push you,” she said. “But sometimes I think if I don’t prod you, you’ll never get married and have a family.” She tapped the top of my nose. “And you deserve that.”

  I leaned my head on her shoulder.

  Divina relocated to the other side of me and held my hand. “You’ll be good for Princeton, if you can get past that messy divorce.” Then she laid her other hand on top of my forearm. “But let him tell you about his divorce in his own time. It’s painful for him and he might push you away, if he hasn’t been already.”

  She tilted her head to the side and studied me. “Maybe he should push you away because his life is a bit complicated after the divorce. But I think you could be the best thing that ever happened to him.”

  “Even though you had your heart set on Michael and me?”

  “Pursue your Mr. Princeton with my blessing,” she said. “He’s as dear to me as anyone in my family, and, darling, that includes you.” She ended with her signature wink that she shared with her brother.

  “But today at the airport,” Granny said. “I thought I’d met—”

  “Her principal,” Divina cut in. “That’s right, Granny.”

  “Why was my principal at the airport picking Granny up?” I asked.

  “Because he sent for her,” Divina said.

  “Mr. Princeton sent for Granny?!” I echoed. “I don’t understand.”

  “Let’s just call it the family support visa,” said Divina. “All he had to do was sign a form.”

  “But why would he bother to do that for me?”

  “Honestly, I didn’t think much about it until now.” She did an ooh-I’ve-just-had-a-revelation scrunch to her lips. “Hmm, I now suspect he’s not immune to your considerable assets.” She smiled.

  Well, I sure as hell was not immune to his assets. But he was so hot-and-cold with me. One moment friendly—and I’d swear flirtatious. Then the next, he’d erect that Berlin Wall between us. Despite whatever had created this barrier, could I break through it?

  Divina prompted me again, “Make a move with your Mr. Princeton.”

  Granny said, “But isn’t he—”

  “Just her boss.” Divina nodded her head as she said it. “Hmm, I would’ve preferred her with Michael, but she has this thing against princes.” She sighed. “I guess her boss will just have to do.”

  Yep, Divina was a little caught up in titles. Maravistan society ran off a pecking order of dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, and barons. And Divina’s family ruled over them all. My cousins, Bella and Lexi, and I were her only non-titled friends.

  No, maybe she considered Mr. Princeton a friend, too. She never talked about him much, but she seemed to know a great deal about him.

  “Does he come from a good family?” I asked Divina.

  “Of course,” she said. “But he’s been somewhat distant since the divorce. His was the first divorce for the family in over two hundred years.” She sighed. “It nearly broke the family apart.”

  “So what happened?”

  She shook her head. “Not my secret to tell, remember?”

  I did, but that didn’t stop me from trying. “So tell me anything you can about them.” I’d take a crumb, whatever I could get to feed my hunger to know more.

  She paused and poised a finger under her chin. “Well, darling, let’s see,” she said. “Hmm, he has a sister who’s very beautiful.”

  Nathan coughed, which turned into a choke, and no one got up to help him, so I took tea to him on the far side of the room.

  When I returned, I found Divina cozied up to Granny, telling her, “I just love your hair this way.” Divina fussed with a few strands at Granny’s shoulders.

  “Isn’t it just wonderful?” Granny commented. “I want to thank you.” She used her hands to brush more shiny new hair forward onto her shoulders. “It’s so clever the way you thought to do this,” she smiled and added, “to my hair.”

  The pair talked about Granny’s hair for a while longer, and anytime I tried to change the conversation with questions about Mr. Princeton, Divina was back to talking about Granny’s hair again.

  Was Divina keeping something from me? As my best friend, Divina was privy to much of Granny’s code words, and she’d know “hair” was one of them. Maybe she wanted to tell me something privately about Mr. Princeton later. Or, maybe she only wanted to be done with the conversation about him. After all, I’d cornered her in a tight spot with my questions about him, each one designed to tempt her into telling me more about his divorce.

  His secrets weren’t hers to tell.

  But that didn’t stop Divina from delivering the opportunity for me to unmask his secrets myself.

  “Sass Meets with Prince Michael’s Sister Every Week—Is It to Plan a Royal Wedding?”

  -Gossip Weekly

  “Sass’ Relatives Flown in from America—Engagement News Imminent”

  -Royal Rumor Report

  Mr. Princeton arrived in my classroom the next day carrying something in the crook of his arm. “Ms. Wellborn….” He drawled the vowels out, the effect like drizzling caramel across my body.

  He was scrumptious. His midnight blue suit spread against the robust curves of his muscles like a forbidden feast for my eyes.

  There was another treat—a twelve-inch doll clung to the bulk of his bicep for dear life. But he cradled her securely.

  “Are you here to tell me that you’ve changed your mind about playing with dolls?” I prompted, and then swept another glance at his biceps before I wetted my lips.

  He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but instead he gazed at my lips and let out a heavy breath.

  He glanced back at the door and, without bothering to finish the conversation, half-turned as if he was about to leave. I didn’t need a cop to point out that this was his typical “MO” with me.

  So be it. I circled away from him and headed towards the tables several yards away where the students were sorting through doll clothes to alter for their design projects. Beyond them, other students were on the sewing machines near the back exit.

  My classroom was the largest in the building, with abundant room to walk away from Princeton’s inability to hold a conversation with me.

  “Wait.” He drew out a rough-sewn breath. “Divina sent me here,” he said in a way that confirmed he wouldn’t have been here otherwise. “She said you’re to help me design a centerpiece for her convention’s charity auction with… um, this.”

  With only two fingers, he barely gripped True Royalty Vanessa by the tip of her shoulder and dropped her on my nearby desk. He must’ve been having flashbacks of Ms. Modesto’s mischief with him and Irresistible Dania.

  I grinned, both for the fact that he’d actually started a conversation with me, and also for the way he’d ma
n-handled True Royalty Vanessa like she was a dirty hanky, despite her eight hundred dollar worth, new-in-box.

  I had one boxed up back home that my father had sent me, probably in a moment of guilt, and I only allowed myself to keep her because she reminded me of how the Contessa might’ve looked if, instead of coming to America to work as a housemaid, she’d chosen to become the first Queen of Maravista.

  But this Vanessa doll on my desk certainly didn’t look like the queenly Contessa I’d pictured in my mind. She laid toppled over with her billowing, slate blue sateen dress exposing her cream petticoat, pointy blue shoes with the cream lace overlay, thigh-high fishnet stockings—and her matching panties.

  Let’s not get started on panties again—I covered up her butt.

  She had no damage. Her auburn hair was still slicked in a high coiffure resembling Marie Antoinette’s Pouf a la Belle Poule, complete with a silver metal replica of the famous ship, with its three masts and twelve waving sails, stuck in her hair.

  He pulled out the ship replica, only about the size of a silver dollar, and held it by its three metal hair prongs at the base. “I don’t get what this is supposed to be.” He shook his head.

  “The ship that launched the French into the American Revolution.” I stared at the replica with seven rhinestones and its intricate detailing of the ship. “Only five hundred of these dolls were ever made, and I’ve never held one of these ships in my hand.” I reached to examine it for myself. “May I?”

  He inclined his head. “Keep it.”

  Our fingers touched, and it was like champagne bubbles shot through my veins. Something glinted within his eyes, and his fingers lingered for a few seconds longer on mine.

  He let his bold blue eyes roam over every inch of my face, as if he were a conquistador exploring virgin territory.

  At once, I was a bit breathless, a little dizzy, and definitely giddy.

  He intoxicated me.

  Did I intoxicate him?

  I thought perhaps…

  But then he stepped back. He huffed, raked a hand through his hair, and leaned against a counter. He scanned the classroom full of boisterous football players and cheerleaders trading doll clothes back and forth across the tables, showing off their different doll ensembles, and rummaging through the accessory tubs for matching shoes.

  “You’ve come a long way with them,” he said.

  “I love these kids.” I watched them in front of us. “They’re so eager to learn new things. I hope my own kids will be just like them.”

  He fixed his eyes on me. “How many?” He asked it the way restaurant servers did when they were taking your order.

  It took me a second to realize he was asking about how many children I wanted, as if he were the stork and could’ve brought whatever number I asked. But I’d long since known that babies came from men, not storks.

  Our eyes locked, and something quivered low in my belly. I clutched my hand against it. He let his eyes follow to where I’d placed my hand, and my belly quivered again.

  What was going on inside my body? I flicked my hand away from my belly and attempted a breezy gesture. “Oh, more than one, for sure.” It was lonely growing up as an only child. “And you?”

  His gaze steadied on my stomach. “As many as I can get.”

  A warmth flooded low inside me. The sensation caused me to bite down on my bottom lip.

  His eyes focused to my lips. Long moments passed between us before he thrust his hands in his pockets and shifted.

  He cleared his throat, but his voice sounded gruff compared to usual. “We’ll talk later about Divina’s doll.” And he was gone faster than a pickpocket.

  I didn’t think I’d see him again that day, yet near the end of class, he was back.

  He walked around the classroom, at the other end from me. He stopped at various worktables and asked the students questions. They showed him their projects. He listened to each of them so eager to share, and sometimes he laughed with them at their comments.

  It made me smile to watch, although I pretended I wasn’t. I was helping a student at my desk, and when she’d left, Mr. Princeton approached me.

  I smiled up at him. “I didn’t think you’d be coming back.”

  “Neither did I.” That was all he offered by way of an explanation. He had his hands in his pockets and took a quick glimpse towards the door, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he stood there, looking at me. No words.

  I pushed out of my chair and walked around to lean on the edge of my desk, near where he stood. He had a puzzled expression, as if he was trying to figure something out. So I titled my head and quizzed my brows at him in return. What was going on in that head of his?

  He stirred from his reverie and finally spoke. “You’re one of a kind, Ms. Wellborn.”

  “What did I do to deserve such a compliment from you?” I asked. He could’ve knocked me over with a mere pencil off my desk.

  “Nothing… everything.” He shrugged his shoulders. He must’ve taken a class at Oxford on how to evade questions—he was an ace at it.

  “So you’re glad I’m here now? I mean, because you’d wanted someone else.” I grinned up at him.

  He answered me with only a smile that lit all the way to his eyes, and he made my belly do that quiver thing again. But I didn’t get to see that smile for long because he turned his attention to the kids in front of us.

  “How did you get the students to buy into this class, especially the football players?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess I just let them take their hands off the handle bars,” I reflected. Since I could tell he didn’t understand, I explained, “Society says men shouldn’t like dolls and that grown women shouldn’t play with dolls because it’s childish, right?”

  He nodded.

  “But what happens when you let go of all those inhibitions”—I inclined my head towards the kids—“you free your mind to create, explore,” I said. “It’s like the freedom you feel when you ride a bike, hands off the handlebars.”

  “You gave them no directions, no rules, and had them figure it out on their own.” He rested a hand under his chin. “Genius.”

  That last word struck a chord within me that vibrated throughout my bones. That was Grandpa’s special word for me. “When you said ‘genius’ just now, you reminded me of my grandpa.”

  “No one’s ever compared me to their ‘grandpa’ before.” He chuckled. “I retract the word.” His smile teased open a hidden door into my heart that I didn’t even know I had.

  I’d yearned for his attention beyond his curt “yes” and “no” responses. And I had it, but I wanted more, a real connection beyond the superficial.

  “I wish I really was my grandpa’s Sassy Little Genius,” I admitted. “That was his nickname for me, but I’ll never be able to do all the things he did.” I dragged in an uneven breath. “I’m struggling to get into Stanvard Law.” I looked away. “Truth is, I’m”—I bit my bottom lip and looked back at him—“worried I’ll get rejected again.”

  Some of my troubles had leaked out of my heart—how much would he care to catch?

  I didn’t give him time to respond—less risky after spilling some of my guts.

  “But maybe they’ll actually read my packet,” I kidded. “Unlike some people.” I flashed him a smile and then diverted my attention to Pierce, with Shake It Up Korrine in his hand, whispering something to Betsy Bump.

  Dear Lord, I hope Pierce wasn’t taunting the girl about her nose job again. But her serene smile reached all the way to her eyes, and I eased my focus back to Mr. Princeton.

  He had his eyes fixed on me. “Stanvard will take you.” When he smiled, he caught my worries and lifted them as easily as he had my bike the first day we’d met. “Tell them about your classroom in that tome you call a packet.”

  “What’s so special about my classroom?”

  He nodded towards all the students hard at work—well, maybe not so much Pierce. “Your Wellborn Collaboration T
echnique works.”

  He knew the exact name…

  Something tingly flooded my bloodstream. His words flowed through me like a champagne toast.

  “You read my packet!” I was drunk on this new revelation. I’m ashamed to admit that my voice pitched as high as a giggly school girl.

  “Don’t get too excited,” he said. “Or I might mistake you for a Margarita Girl.” His lips curled into a self-satisfied smile.

  Oh, wicked, wicked man!

  “I’m sure you’re experienced enough to know,” I said, “that it takes a lot more than reading something to get a Margarita Girl excited.”

  Heaven, help me, did I just say that?

  He let his eyes drift over me and exhaled a deep breath. “Be forewarned, I tire easily of margaritas.”

  Without another word, he bounded towards the door, but he stopped when he caught sight of Smart Sally and stayed to observe her work at a sewing machine.

  I hung back a few minutes to sober my mind. There was something between us, and yet he’d walked away again. Did this explain what happened in the mailroom, too? Was this how he’d be if I let him get too close to me? If I gave him my heart, would he abandon me like my father?

  And while this man was a tempting diversion, I couldn’t afford to let go of all my inhibitions. I wouldn’t run my life unstructured, like I did this doll design class. I had promises to keep. I kissed the ruby of Grandpa’s Stanvard Law ring around my neck.

  If I took Divina’s advice to “make a move,” what exactly would I be getting into?

  Trouble. That’s what.

  The same trouble the Contessa and my ancestors had gotten into with all those men. They’d allowed men to take what they’d wanted and abandon them. I was worth more than a one-night stand, more than empty promises, more than a man walking away from me.

  I rubbed my fingers across True Royalty Vanessa’s miniature metal ship still in my hand. The real ship allegedly brought my ancestor, the Contessa, to America after the Revolution. I slipped the tiny replica in my pocket. I’d best remember not to let this man steer me off course or I’d head back to America broken, like the Contessa.