His Royal Highness(85)

All of our kids have grown up inside Fairytale Kingdom. They think it’s totally normal to live inside of a theme-park castle. They do their homework in my office above Castle Drive. They play tag down in Elena’s Village. Annie’s first word was “park”, pronounced with an h instead of an r, like she was a Long Islander. It took her forever to learn how to say it the right way, and I was devastated when she finally got it. Why do they grow so fast?!

After shuffling through a few more photos, Cal finally finds the one he’s looking for.

He holds it up with a shaky hand and the girls immediately snatch it.

I try to see it, but they press their little heads together and hide it from view. It takes a few seconds for them to piece together what exactly they’re looking at—no doubt they’re confused by this ancient form of non-digitized photography—but then then they erupt into giggles. “That’s Mommy! And…Daddy! Look! He’s dressed up as His Royal Highness!”

They whip around, looking at Derek with fresh eyes. Before this moment, he was just Dad, the dude with the terrible jokes. Now, he’s a former royal. They’ve never been so impressed. Their eyes go wide. They keep glancing down at the picture and then back up, as if trying to identify how exactly we’ve changed.

Well, you see, when you carry three children…

I yank the photo out of their hands and take a look for myself. Derek comes up to stand beside me and the two of us immediately bust out laughing. Tears soon burn the edges of my eyes.

“How?” I ask Cal, completely perplexed by the fact that he has photo evidence of this moment in his possession and he’s managed to keep it a secret until now.

He smiles and winks before asking the girls to lug him back to his feet. They do it, because second to Princess Elena, Cal is their favorite person.

“Grandpa, can we look at the other pictures in here?” Katherine asks, picking up the photo album.

He nods, walking back over to the couch. “Bring ’em over. We can look together.”

Derek steps closer and wraps his arm around my waist. “Do you remember this?” he asks, voice low so only I can hear.

How could I forget?

In the photo, Derek and I are dressed for our fictional wedding as Princess Elena and His Royal Highness. We’re standing up on the holiday parade float, and while it’s festooned with roses and garland—a work of art someone took a lot of time to create—Derek and I couldn’t care less. We’re at war.

In front of an out-of-focus crowd, we stand inches from each other. My neck is craned so I can have a clear view of where I need to poke if I want to permanently blind him. His hands are fisted at his sides as if having to restrain himself from pushing me overboard.

In the background, a hazy red arch looms.

The arch.

The exact location where Derek finally kissed me senseless and all my nerve endings threw confetti. FINALLY!

I smile.

I want to blow this photo up and frame it.

I want to send it to the Smithsonian and tell them to archive it.

It’s a national treasure.

“I knew I had you that day,” Derek gloats quietly. “I knew in that moment you were in love with me.”

I roll my eyes as I hand over the photograph. “So spoiled. His Royal Highness always gets what he wants.”

He winks. “You’re right, and I want you.” His gaze drops to my mouth before he gives me a quick chaste kiss. “Always.”





I hope you loved stepping into Derek and Whitney’s fairytale! If you love friends-to-lovers, off-the-charts steam, and witty banter, keep reading for an excerpt from my #1 bestselling romantic comedy

Not So Nice Guy.





SYNOPSIS




“Oh my god. Who is that?”



I get asked this question a lot.



“Oh him?” I reply. “That’s just Ian.”



Just Ian is the biggest understatement of the century. Just the Mona Lisa. Just the Taj Mahal. Just Ian, with his boring ol’ washboard abs and dime-a-dozen dimpled smile.



Just Ian is…just my best friend.



We’re extremely close, stuck so deep inside a Jim-and-Pam-style friendzone everyone at work assumes we’re a couple—that is until one day, word spreads through the teacher’s lounge that he’s single. Fair game. Suddenly, it’s open season on Ian.



He should be reveling in all the newfound attention, but to our mutual surprise, the only attention he seems to want is mine.



He’s turning our formerly innocent nightly chats into X-rated phone calls. Our playful banter sports a new, dangerous edge.



I want to assume he’s playing a prank on me, just pushing my buttons like always—but when Ian lifts me onto the desk in my classroom and slides his hands up my skirt, he doesn’t leave a lot of room for confusion.



I’m a little scared of things going south, of losing my best friend because I can’t keep my hands to myself. So, I’m just going to back away and not return this earth-shattering kiss—oh who am I kidding?!



Goodbye Ian, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal!



Helloooo mister not so nice guy.