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“Size isn’t everything,” I said, then held up a finger when Caleb’s smile got wider. “Don’t say it.”
I pulled out my phone and called the pilot.
“Yes, Your Highness,” he answered on the first ring.
“Prepare the jet,” I said. “We’re flying to Nairobi.”
Chapter Three
Princess Veronica
“Do you ever wonder if I’m stark raving mad?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the chatter at Gate 19 as we waited to board our flight to Nairobi.
Daphne turned to me, her expression pensive for a moment before breaking into a grin. “Come on, Ronnie, fleeing the country to avoid your ex is completely normal and acceptable behavior.”
“Ronnie” was the name we’d decided I would go by since my real name would obviously attract too much attention. At least until I was out of the country, since I was certain nobody would know me in Africa.
I felt ridiculous wearing the large leopard-rimmed sunglasses, Kastonia University T-shirt, and the oversized hat with sunflowers printed around on the rim. It was only a matter of time before someone would figure out who I was. Luckily, we could slip through the security checkpoint unnoticed with the help of Daphne’s uncle, who is the director of airport security.
“I still can’t believe you talked me into dressing like this,” I muttered as the first-class passengers boarded our flight.
Daphne leaned closer. “We just look like a couple of fun, enthusiastic travelers with a zeal for life. Besides, going undercover is fun! Now, I see why the Americans celebrate Halloween. The only thing missing is some Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. I hear they are very popular in the US.”
The disguises we’d picked up at a souvenir shop on the way to the airport seemed to draw more snickers than stares, but I couldn’t help but feel my anxiety levels beginning to rise. Each passerby seemed a new threat, their glances like daggers of suspicion.
As I attempted to hide my royal visage behind my Vogue magazine once more, I noticed a man in my periphery lifting his phone to take a photo of us.
“I think our cover has been blown,” I said.
“Relax—he’s just admiring our lovely sense of style,” Daphne said.
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said as the man stood and walked in our direction, his eyes sparkling with the unmistakable eagerness of someone on a mission.
“Excuse me, ladies,” he chirped, notebook in hand. “I’m gathering stories for my blog about everyday people at the airport. Could I steal a moment of your time?”
I offered him a tight-lipped smile and changed my voice, hoping it sounded convincingly deep. “We’re about to board. Time’s tight, but thank you for your interest.”
“No worries …” He tilted his head, a puzzled grin forming on his face. “Love the hat, by the way. Big fan of pepperoni pizzas?”
“They’re sunflowers, actually,” I corrected, keeping my tone light.
“Really?” He squinted at the hat, as if trying to see it in a new light, then shrugged. “Oh, sunflowers then. Neat.” His gaze lingered a moment too long. “You look incredibly familiar.”
Before I could fumble through a cover-up, Daphne stepped in with her characteristic snappy timing. “She’s a doppelgänger for that woman you see on billboards—you know, the one selling luxury yachts and dream vacations.”
The man chuckled, undeterred. “Or like a celebrity going incognito with that hat and sunglasses. Imagine that?”
From the seat across from us, a middle-aged woman in a yellow dress piped up. “She does look like a movie star! Reminds me of a young Jamie Lee Curtis!”
“Yes, exactly!” the blogger exclaimed, snapping his fingers.
An older gentleman, clad in a sleek noir ensemble, joined in. “That would mean she’s related to Tony Curtis. That would be an interesting twist!”
Before I could deflect, the blogger mused aloud, “Then we’d be just a step away from some real Hollywood royalty, wouldn’t we?”
Royalty? This was hitting a little too close to home.
The lady leaned forward, her eyes twinkling. “Oh, Tony was fabulous in Some Like It Hot. And Jack Lemmon? A gem in Grumpy Old Men.”
