Page 35 of Tempted By the Princess

Genny had been gone for three weeks now. I woke up every day expecting to feel better, to miss her less, but somehow it never worked. Every day I felt like I was walking through mud, unable to find joy in anything, even my painting.

“I don’t understand why I’m so hung up on her,” I told my sister over brunch one Sunday. “I knew her for like a week. Well, I knew a version of her. The version that filled in when I was short-staffed and cooked great eggs and tripped on every single root in a three foot radius when we went hiking. There’s this whole other version of her that wears fancy dresses and crowns and dances with royalty.”

“Have you been cyberstalking her?”

“I may have set up a Google alert on her and the royal family,” I said primly. “There’s been more press than they usually get because of her sister’s coronation.”

I conveniently left out the way I’d spent countless hours scouring the internet for anything I could find about Genny or her family.

“Have you heard from her since she left?”

“Yeah, she texted a couple of times.”

My sister gave me a shrewd look. “Did you respond?”

I shrugged. “Yeah, but I kept it brief.”

Lizzie set down her fork – which told me she was about to get serious – so I did the same. Leaning forward, she pinned me with a hard look.

“Let me get this straight. You’re in love with this woman. She’s in love with you. You’ve both said the words to each other. Out loud. She tells you she’ll be back for you. She texts you to let you know she’s thinking about you. And you’re being what? Coy?”

“It’s like I told her before she left, a clean break is best.”

“Best for who? Not you, that’s for sure.”

“It is best for me,” I huffed. “It was never going to work out between us. It wasn’t real. Grown ass adults don’t fall in love in less than a week.”

“Says who?”

“Says every other adult.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” my sister scoffed.

“No I’m not. How many times have you seen people fall in love on vacation or when they’re working together or whatever and then when they go back to their real lives it all fades away. And I’m too damned old for childhood fantasies about instalove.”

“Or maybe you’re old enough to recognize love when you see it,” she countered.

“I’m infatuated with a woman who wears a tiara and grew up in a castle,” I reminded her.

“How often is she even back in her country doing stuff like that?” Lizzie asked.

“I don’t know. I think she said she goes back for the holidays and occasional events.”

“And the rest of the time she lives a normal life in Seattle?”

“I guess. But don’t forget the age difference. She’s not even thirty.”

“So what?”

“So one day she’ll wake up and realize her life is passing her by while she hangs out with a middle aged caterer with a trick knee and less than two thousand dollars in the bank.”

My sister shook her head, her expression clearly communicating that she thought I was a hopeless case.

“You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to be happy. I’ve been searching my whole life for someone that would make me feel the way Genny makes you feel.”

She picked up her fork and took a bite of her omelet before adding, “Such a waste.”

“I really miss her,” I admitted quietly. “I thought once we weren’t seeing each other, I’d discover that it wasn’t love, it was just infatuation. But I was wrong.”