“And Edgar asked you to go to England, right,” Abby continued, “and meet his family, which is a good sign, because it means you’re not just a hookup, and right now you’re driving yourself crazy with self-doubt and social anxiety and trying to decide what to do. So please hold up the phone so Edgar and everyone else can see me.”

I did as I was told.

“YES!!!” Abby howled as Dane pumped his fist in the air. Then Abby added, “And I can’t believe we’re talking about any of this when everyone should still be gushing about my dress.”

“Your dress was exquisite,” Edgar told her. “Recalling your dress was the only way Carter and I achieved orgasm.”

Abby yelled “YES!!!” at a volume that made me hold the phone a yard from my ear. Because the crowd, on two continents, had spoken, I closed the comments section and asked Edgar, “When do we leave?”

CHAPTER 16

Cassandra put up a fight over giving me a week off, ranting about her busiest season and the L’Oreal Sizzling Shades of Summer product launch and the Dapplemans’ Frozen II–themed brunch for their daughter’s graduation from preschool, until I played the royalty card and handed Edgar the phone so he could tell Cassandra, “Darling Cassie, it’s Edgar, and I’m so sorry, but I need to borrow our boy for just a spell, which we’ll tell you all about at a very private dinner once we return, thank you so much, and yes, I will make certain my grandmother takes a good long look at your website, including the recently rethought section covering pre-engagement hayrides.”

A few hours later a car picked me up, along with my tired black nylon wheeled duffel, which everyone has, and to which I’d knotted a rainbow ribbon for identification on the luggage carousel, like everyone does. I’d imagined we’d be leaving from JFK, but the car soon pulled into a small private airport and drove directly onto the tarmac, parking beside the royal jet, where James was waiting by the stairs.

There was no malfunctioning electronic check-in with an additional charge for my second bag.

No winding, double-backed line for passport control.

I didn’t have to remove my shoes and belt, or deposit my keys, wallet and loose change in a bacteria-clogged plastic tub.

I wasn’t patted down or wanded or told to put my devices in a separate bin.

I didn’t trudge for miles, while one of the wheels on my luggage broke off, before someone told me I was in the wrong terminal.

I didn’t juggle my backpack, my phone and whatever Starbucks was calling a muffin these days while I searched for my boarding pass.

I didn’t sit in a packed waiting area beside screaming babies and strangers falling asleep on my shoulder, for hours, until the flight was delayed and then canceled.