Page 64 of Once Upon a Royal Summer
I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is Fine.
Lacey flew out of her room and pounded on Ava’s door. “Ava, let me in.” Her voice cracked.
Do not cry. You can cry all you want once you find Ava, but you cannot weep in the middle of a gilded hallway.
No amount of mental lecturing could keep her voice from breaking, though. “Please.”
How could this be happening? Of all the things she could’ve left behind in Florida, why did it have to be the pretty lilac gown she was supposed to wear to the ball?
Lacey’s eyes stung with the effort to hold back her tears. She felt her lower lip begin to wobble, so she bit down hard on it while she waited for Ava to open the door and let her inside.
She wasn’t sure what her friend could possibly do to help the situation. What was done was done. She’d already written the letter to Henry explaining she wouldn’t be at the ball. Miss Marie was probably handing it to him right this very second. Lacey knew if she’d waited to write it until after she’d seen Ava, she wouldn’t have had the courage to pick up the pen.
Besides, knowing Ava, she would’ve insisted Lacey wear her flowy red dress with the dainty bow at the waist. She would’ve gladly traded places with Lacey and sat this one out. Well, maybe not gladly…but she would’ve done it. And once Ava got an idea into her head, she never took no for an answer.
Lacey couldn’t let Ava do that, though. Bringing the wrong dress had been her screw-up, and there was no way Lacey was going to let Ava miss out on her one and only chance to attend a royal ball. Plus there was definitely something more than just friendship going on between Ava and Ian. Ava was probably looking forward to tonight as much as Lacey had been.
A rebellious tear slid down Lacey’s cheek as she rested her forehead against the closed door to Ava’s room. Maybe it was best that her friend wasn’t in her suite. Lacey didn’t want to bring her down and ruin her evening. But right at that moment, she could’ve definitely used a hug.
She squeezed her eyes shut tight. What was it Ross from Friends had so deliriously said when everything around him was falling apart?
I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine.
For once, quotes from her favorite television show didn’t make Lacey feel the slightest bit better. Had she really been foolish enough to think she and Henry belonged together?
After another futile tap on the door, she gave up, wiped her face, and headed back to her room. Maybe she could throw her things into a suitcase, summon an Uber, and catch a late-night flight back to the States. She’d simply text Ava from the airport and tell her not to worry. They’d see each other soon, back at home. Or maybe she’d hunker down at the airport in Nice and wait for Ava to show up for her flight in the morning. Lacey didn’t know. Her thoughts were spiraling. She just wasn’t sure she could face Henry after tonight. Saying goodbye to him seemed almost impossible, even if she knew in her heart that it was the right—the proper—thing to do.
Did Bella-Moritz even have Ubers? Or did everyone in the kingdom travel via golden, horse-drawn carriage?
Goodness, she was losing her mind. She needed to get back to her pretend life in her pretend castle, where she knew her place.
Tears spilled over, blurring Lacey’s vision as she flung her door open and returned to her room. She choked on a sob, but all her breath seemed to bottle up tight in her throat when she realized she wasn’t alone.
“Ava, thank goodness.” Lacey blinked back her tears and threw herself toward the blurry figure dressed in a deep red, floor-length gown and standing in front of the antique wardrobe, where Lacey’s Princess Sweet Pea costume was bursting from the garment bag in all of its fluffy, theme-park glory. “I was just looking for you. I—”
Her words died on her tongue. Now that Lacey was closer and she’d wiped a fresh wave of tears from her eyes, she saw the woman dressed in the beautiful red gown with her hands clasped behind her back wasn’t Ava at all.
It was the queen.
“You.” Lacey attempted to swallow around the hard lump in her throat and instead made a humiliating, anguished noise that barely sounded human. She was certain weeping was probably against the royal rules. She’d never once seen Queen Elizabeth break down in tears.
Yet another reason Lacey was way out of her element. Life was messy sometimes. She was messy. It didn’t seem right to have to hold everything inside.
Still, crying in front of Henry’s mother made her feel ill—spinning-teacup-ride-after-swallowing-three-mermaid-tail-ice-cream-bars-in-rapid-succession sick to her stomach.
She sniffed in a horribly un-regal manner, one last desperate attempt to get ahold of herself. “I mean, Your Majesty. Um, what are you doing here?”
It wasn’t the politest greeting in the world, but Lacey was too heartbroken for niceties. She was doing the right thing—she was leaving before she accidentally spilled the beans and told Prince Charming she’d fallen head over heels in love with him. She’d worry about her manners later.
Queen Elloise didn’t seem fazed by the abrupt question, though. As always, she seemed as cool as a cucumber—if cucumbers wore crowns, that is. A dazzling tiara was perched on top of her dark hair, which had been fashioned into a sleek French twist. Every stone in the crown’s platinum, filigree setting glittered like sunlight on a cool, clear ocean. It was so beautiful that Lacey’s head spun for a second. Never had she been so aware of the difference between the real deal and the plastic crown she anchored to her head with thirty-five bobby pins every day for work.
No wonder Mark had always gotten so irritated when she forgot to take it off.
“It seems there’s been a misunderstanding,” the queen said, and then she unclasped her hands from behind her back and held up a familiar sheet of paper.
My letter.
Lacey let out a shaky sigh. Could this situation get any more terrible?
