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“You had a crush on Halverson Cleary and you wrote I love you on your eyelids because of that old movie,” his snickers fuzzed up the line, “but you smudged it into indecipherable black blobs. You started blinking at him, but he didn’t know why.” The snicker grew to full-blown laughter. “Instead of asking you out, he escorted you to the nurse’s office because he thought you were having a seizure.”
For a moment, I was stunned. “I don’t—“
“How about the time Jenny Pierson dared you to go off the high dive and your swimsuit—“
“Oh my gosh!” My heart leaped in my chest. “Fitz! It’s you!”
“About time. I thought I was going to have to tell the story of the purple pumpkin and—“
“Stop!” I pleaded, embarrassment coloring my cheeks. “No one needs to hear that story, ever.”
“But it’s such a good one.” I heard the smile in his voice, but it faded quickly. “While it’s amazing to hear your voice, I’m afraid I didn’t call to reminisce and I don’t have a great deal of time.” His voice took on a serious tone. “I know it’s been ages, but I need your help, Michaela. I’m afraid I’m asking you as the Crown Prince for a personal favor to the Nolcovian throne.”
Shivers ran up my spine. Was he serious?
“Fitz, you know I’ll be your friend no matter what. You don’t have to lie about—“
“You still don’t believe me, do you?” My disbelief amused him. “After all these years. What would prove it to you? Would you like to see the palace? The Hall of Kings? Heavens, Coco, must you meet my parents in the throne room to finally give in?”
“I’m sorry.” I couldn’t hide my skepticism. “You’re the same guy who used to help me choreograph Madonna’s greatest hits and you’re expecting me to believe you’re a Crown Prince somewhere?”
Fitz groaned. “Clearly, we both hold weapons of mutual destruction with these shared stories. No one can ever see those videos.” His voice darkened, but I saw through the charade. “You know that, right?”
“Or you’ll put me in the stocks, Your Highness?”
“We retired the stocks, but I hear the dungeons are cold this time of year and rather lonely.”
“You wouldn’t keep me company?”
“No, I’m afraid my mother convinced me there are goblins down there. I suppose I can sentence a miscreant like you to the tower. It has a sunset view. I could bring dinner.”
I’d missed this with him. I’d never met anyone who could go back-and-forth with me, lost in a world of pretend.
“Can you finally cook more than mac and cheese?”
That got him and his laughter filled the line. “I’m afraid I’m out of practice. With an entire staff here, I cook very little and certainly not at 2:00 a.m. either.”
I smiled at the memory. He’d stayed over after homecoming. Fitz was starving somewhere around 1:00 a.m. and completely helpless to do anything about it. By the time we were done, it was both the worst and the best blue box of mac and cheese I’d ever eaten.
“Coco, I need your help. As you know, my father is ill and there is concern that we will lose him before the end of the year.” The strain increased in his voice. “In order to take the throne, I must be married.”
My eyes widened. We were friends, but I didn’t think we were I’ll-marry-you-to-get-you-out-of-trouble friends.
“After much debate, my mother has come up with a compromise. A tournament of sorts. Fifteen women competing to become the future queen.” He paused like he meant to let me soak in the idea. “And I need you here for it.”
“Wait, what?” He couldn’t be serious. “In Nolcovia? To compete to marry you? Fitz…”
“You wouldn’t be competing. I mean, you would look like you were,” he stumbled over the words as he tried to explain, “but what I need is someone on the inside. I need someone to confirm if what I’m seeing is real or not.”
I almost laughed. “You want me to be your royal wingman?”
“You know how bad I was with women.” He groaned. “Trust me, that has only worsened with age.”
“Fitz, I have a life here. A job. I can’t uproot and fly off to some other country to…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. I couldn’t bring myself to say I thought he was going overboard with his royal prince story.
But then… what if he wasn’t lying?
“All I’m asking is for you to consider it. We start in ten days. I must have a bride selected by the new year.” His pleading voice reminded me of the teen who begged me to help him paint his solar system at midnight because he forgot it was due. “Please, I need you, Michaela.”
