My jaw drops open and I turn around, my eyes finally landing on Eric, who is now standing in the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms casually crossed in front of him and that goddamn beautiful, dimpled smile on his face.
His eyes meet mine, and after not seeing him for a week, this almost brings me to my knees. He shouts back to Belle without taking his eyes off of me.
“Do what you need to do, princess; I’m all in. Let’s wrap this shit up so we can go home.”
Even though he’s answering Belle, I know . . . I know he’s talking to me. I don’t know what is happening or what this is about, but fuzzy memories from the night we got drunk at Charming’s start floating through my head. Something about Cindy and Belle and a drunk Uber ride and being kissed by an angel that sounded like Eric and smelled like Eric.
Belle smiles at Eric and then turns to face me, grabbing my hand and squeezing it hard.
“There. We have his permission. Now you know he is on board with this plan, and he will absolutely not hate you or blame you for putting a wedge between him and his mother. This bitch is going down,” she whispers before turning to face the board again.
I swallow nervously, turning around with her, even though I just want to keep looking at Eric. Belle holds her cell phone up to the microphone and taps a button, and suddenly Cindy’s voice is amplified through the sound system.
“I just puked in Ursula’s bushes! Quick, take a picture!”
“Oops, wrong spot.” Belle laughs, the rest of the room joining her as Cindy drops her head into her hands and sighs.
Belle quickly fast-forwards the recording, holding her phone back up to the microphone. This time, it’s Ursula’s voice that everyone hears.
“What in the hell are you doing on my property?”
“We’re here to talk to you about our lord and savior Jesus Christ!”
The room laughs again, and Belle gives me a sheepish look, still holding her phone up as the recording continues.
“You have five seconds to remove yourself from my front porch, or I will call the police.”
“Fuck the police! I mean, I’m sure they’re lovely people. What I meant to say is, fuck you and the high horse you rode in on! Who the hell do you think you are, trying to blackmail Ariel? Did you seriously think you could force her to break up with your son, the love of her fucking life, telling her she had to choose between him and the Naughty Princess Club?”
“It worked, didn’t it? That piece of trash showed herself out, and my son is finally free of her bad influence. But the joke is on that whore. Do you honestly think I would still allow a disgusting business such as yours to continuing polluting my town? You’re nothing but a bunch of stupid, slutty women.”
Everyone in the room gasps, including me, as I watch Ursula’s face get so red that I’m pretty sure it might explode.
“You lying McLiarson! You told Ariel all she had to do was break up with Eric, then come to the board meeting and plead our case, and you would immediately overturn the denial! Whatever, bitch. We’re still going to that board meeting, and they’ll all side with us because we’re awesome and you’re not! How dare you! How. Dare. You! Christ, I think I’m gonna puke again.”
The room laughs again as I stand watching Ursula sink down farther and farther into her seat as the rest of the board members shoot her angry looks, shaking their heads.
“Do you have any idea who I am? I am the HEAD of that board and own the largest business in this community, which brings in millions of dollars in revenue. Those pathetic people worship me and do whatever I tell them to do. You can go right ahead and show up at that board meeting, but all you’ll do is embarrass yourselves. Now, get off my property, you drunk sluts!”
“Screw you! Maybe if you acted like a drunk slut every once in a while and got laid, you wouldn’t be such an uptight judgmental bitch! PJ, take me home. This drunk slut wants to suck your—”
Cindy quickly reaches around me and smacks her hand against Belle’s phone to shut it off, and it clatters to the lectern.
“I think they’ve heard enough,” she states, nervously clearing her throat.
Everyone in the room immediately goes crazy again, shouting and screaming, demanding that Ursula be kicked off the board. Suddenly, someone in the room starts chanting “Naughty Princesses,” and the entire place joins in, making Cindy, Belle, and I laugh as we turn around in circles to see everyone smiling and cheering for us.
One of the board members bangs the gavel against the table repeatedly, calling for order, and after a few minutes, the room quiets down again.
“I think we’ve heard enough. On behalf of the board, I’d like to apologize to you three for the treatment you’ve received. We will not stand for intimidation or blackmail of our business owners. What you ladies have accomplished with your business in the short amount of time it’s been open is indeed commendable and should be recognized. As the temporary head of the board, since our former one can go ahead and see herself out,” the man says, glaring at Ursula, “I hereby approve your business license and wish you nothing but continued success.”
With that, he smacks the gavel down again and announces that the meeting is adjourned.
The roar of the people in the room is deafening as Cindy, Belle, and I start screaming, hugging each other and jumping up and down.
“I love you drunk, slutty, motherfuckers!” I tell them, not even embarrassed that I’m crying in public as I hug my best friends.
“I can’t believe half the town knows I went home and sucked PJ’s dick,” Cindy complains.
“You cut it off before you said dick. I’m sure they thought you were going to say lollipop,” Belle reassures her.
All of a sudden, I feel a pair of arms wrapping around my waist and smell the cologne that I’ve been dreaming about for a week. Belle and Cindy let go of me with a smile, and I turn around in Eric’s arms to find him smiling down at me.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” he tells me, resting his forehead against mine.
“I’m sorry about your mom. I hate this for you. I hate that you had to see that and hear that,” I tell him, trying really hard not to cry again.
“Don’t you dare apologize for what she did to you. To us. I told you we never had a close relationship, and I’m not sorry at all it had to come to this. I’m just sorry she hurt you. I’m sorry she put you through that. And I’m fucking pissed you didn’t tell me as soon as we left her house that day, but I get it. I get why you didn’t say anything.”
“I can’t believe you’re here. I broke up with you,” I tell him lamely.
He laughs, tightening his arms around me, bringing me flush against his body.
“No you didn’t.”
“Yes, I most certainly did,” I argue. “I left you a note. I packed my things and I left.”
“You just needed space. I get it. Chicks need space sometimes.” He shrugs.
“Did you just call me a chick?” I mutter in bewilderment.
“Wait, you’re not a chick? Well, shit. I mean, I know you’ve had my balls in your purse since the day I met you, but I thought for sure you weren’t a dude.”
He trails his eyes down from my face right to my boobs and licks his lips.
“Stop eye-fucking me in public,” I complain.
“Can we finally go home now so I can fuck you for real then?” he asks with a smirk.
“You’re ridiculous.” I shake my head at him, unable to stop the corner of my mouth from tipping up into a smile.
“And you love me,” he says softly.
“Eh, you’re all right. I guess we can go home now. I do miss Derrick Alfredo and his balls,” I tell him. “So, your boat or mine?”
Eric’s smile suddenly falls from his face, and I have a moment of panic, wondering if he really does hate me for what happened here today. He drops his arms from around my waist and takes a step back, running his hand nervously through his hair.
“Okay, so, I have s
omething to tell you, and you have to promise not to freak out,” he pleads, pausing for entirely too long.
“Jesus Christ, I’m already freaking out! Just say it!” I shout.
He closes his eyes and breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth a few times before opening his eyes and looking at me seriously.
“Ariel. I sold your boat so I could buy back all your antiques. And then I sold my boat when I found out what my mother did to you, because I’ve never really given a shit about the family business, and I honestly don’t want anything to do with her right now. Also, one of the stipulations in the substantial inheritance my father left me was that I had to be thirty and married to a woman my mother approves of before I could touch it. Otherwise, I lose it completely.”
He lets out a deep breath of relief when he finishes and I stare at him in confusion.
“O - k - a - a - a - a - a - y,” I reply, dragging the word out, still wondering why he’s telling me all of this, expecting me to freak out.
“Jesus, Ariel! Don’t you get it? I’m poor!” he wails.
The pitiful look on his face just makes me laugh, which makes Eric glare at me before he bend at the waist and presses his hands against his knees.
“Fuck. I think I’m having a heart attack. Call 9-1-1,” he says, wheezing a little as he speaks.
“Oh, for the love of God.” I roll my eyes, patting him on the back. “You’re not poor. You’re just . . . not a multimillionaire anymore.”
“THAT’S THE VERY DEFINITION OF POOR!” he shouts in a panic, still breathing heavily, until I start to worry that he really will give himself a heart attack.
Grabbing his arm, I pull him back up and slide my arms around his waist.
“Stop being a baby. I just got a big fat check from my piece-of-shit, now I happily say, ex-husband. And now that the Naughty Princess Club is back in business, we’ll be raking in the cash. Don’t worry, boo. I’ll take care of you.” I smile up at him as he presses his hands to either side of my face.
“Excellent. Can I call you my sugar momma?” he asks, slowly lowering his face towards mine.
“Not if you want to wake up tomorrow with your balls still attached to your body.”
“Can I kiss the girl now?” he whispers.
“You’re so cheesy. And no, you can’t kiss me. I’m in charge here. I’ll kiss you.”
Eric laughs and I push up onto my toes, cutting off his laughter with my lips.
Epilogue
Cindy
Three months later . . .
“PJ! I CAN’T FIND MY SHOE!” I shout, digging through the pile of shoes I dumped all over the floor of our walk-in closet. “HAVE YOU SEEN MY SPARKLY SHOE? YOU KNOW, THAT ONE I WORE TO THE BENEFIT THAT NIGHT YOU PUNCHED BRIAN IN THE FACE? THE ONE THAT FELL OFF MY FOOT AND YOU THOUGHT YOU’D BE ALL STUPID AND CUTE AND GET DOWN ON ONE KNEE JUST TO HELP ME PUT IT BACK ON?!”
I let out a huff when I can’t find the damn shoe, standing up and limp-turning around in the doorway of the closet, since I’m currently wearing only one damn sparkly shoe.
“You mean this shoe?”
My hand flies up to my mouth with a gasp when I see PJ kneeling in front of me in the bedroom, holding up the missing sparkly shoe. I take a step towards him and gasp again when I see a gorgeous, princess-cut diamond solitaire sitting inside the shoe.
“Oh, my God,” I mutter, tears filling my eyes as I drop my hand from my mouth.
“Cynthia, I love you. More than I thought I would ever love anyone. I loved you from the moment I caught you when you passed out on your front lawn, and even when you showed up at my strip club in a PTA-mom wool business suit,” he tells me with a smile.
“Shut up. That suit was from Ann Taylor and was very becoming,” I mutter through my tears.
“I have loved every moment of watching you turn into the fierce, sexy, amazing businesswoman you are today, and I love that I get to benefit from your business when you come home to me at night,” he says with a wink.
“Ewwww, too much information,” Anastasia complains.
I glance over PJ’s shoulder to see her sitting on the edge of our bed with her face in her phone. I roll my eyes at her and then look back down at PJ.
“Marry me. Let me spend the rest of my life proving to you that fairy tales really do come true.”
“If I say yes, will you call me Mrs. Prince Charming?” I ask as he pulls the ring out of the shoe and tosses the shoe to the side.
“Whatever you say, dear.” He laughs as he slides the ring on my finger.
“Look at that. You’re already acting like a husband.”
I lean down to kiss him, and he brings his finger up in front of my lips.
“Hold that thought. And that kiss,” he tells me, reaching into his front pocket as he turns around on his knee and shuffles over to Anastasia.
“Anastasia, will you do me the honor of allowing me to be your stepfather?” he asks her, holding a ring up for her to see.
“Dude. Is that a black jewel?” she asks in awe, staring down at the ring as she tosses her phone to the bed.
“It’s a black onyx,” PJ confirms with a nod.
“Like my soul.” She sighs happily.
“Will you promise to let me get a shotgun and threaten any boy who knocks on the door to take you out on a date? Will you promise to talk to me if you ever have a problem that you can’t tell your mom? Will you let me ground you if you ever make stupid choices, as long as your mother is in agreement with the punishment, which I will then go back on roughly two hours after I hand out the punishment because I don’t want you to hate me? Will you let me kick the ass of any boy who breaks your heart? Will you promise not to laugh at me when you leave for college and I cry like a baby? If you promise all of these things, then I promise I will be the best stepdad in the world, and take the best care of you and your mother,” PJ finishes.
Anastasia looks over at me, and I can barely see her with all the damn tears pouring out of my eyes and down my face. But luckily, I’m not the only emotional one. I watch my daughter smile at me and swipe her own tears off her face as she nods at PJ, and he slides the ring on the ring finger of her right hand.
“You’re such a nerd,” she says, rolling her eyes even as she sniffles and wipes more tears off her cheeks.
She stands up, leaning down to kiss PJ on the cheek before walking over to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. I kiss the top of her head.
“You have my permission. I guess you can marry this guy. But if you make me wear a pink bridesmaid dress I will murder both of you in your sleep.”
With that, she pulls out of my arms and walks out of the room.
PJ gets up from the floor and walks over to me, scooping me up in his arms.
“I love you so much, Princeton James Charming,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and holding on to him tightly.
“I love you more, Cindy Ella. What do you think about getting married on New Year’s Eve, at the stroke of midnight?” he asks, setting me back down on my feet.
“I think that sounds exactly like the perfect ending to a fairy tale.”
Belle
Six months later . . .
“When did you and your spouse move in together?” the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services officer asks us.
We’ve been here for over two hours already, answering so many questions I feel like I might forget my own name soon. We’ve answered everything from what each other’s dates of birth are, to when we saw our spouse for the third time, to what kind of cars we each drive and where we do our banking. But this is a big day. An important day. More important than even our wedding was, which was a pretty spectacular day a few months ago, if I do say so myself.
This is the day Vincent hopefully gets his permanent citizenship, and we won’t have to worry about him possibly being sent back to Canada. I mean, I’d go with him if it came to that, but I’m hoping it doesn’t. My business is here, my library
is here, my friends are here, and my dad is here.
“Well, that’s kind of a funny story,” I tell the man, who doesn’t smile and clearly doesn’t find anything funny. “He sort of kidnapped me from the library where I work and forced me to move in with him a few months after we met at the strip club where he works.”
“Christ,” Vincent mutters from the chair next to me, both of us sitting facing the officer on the other side of the desk. “I didn’t kidnap her. I gently coaxed her into coming home with me, since she was living at the library and had no place else to go.”
“Potatoes, po-tah-toes,” I mutter, waving my hand at my husband. “I totally thought you were a serial killer until we got to your house out in the woods. Even then it was touch and go, since I was worried if I screamed, no one would hear me.”
I reach over and grab Vincent’s hand, turning to the officer and smiling.
“It’s a really pretty cottage out in the middle of nowhere with the most gorgeous library you’ve ever seen. Did you know less than twenty percent of the population has a library in their home? Such a travesty.”
The man doesn’t even blink. He just looks down at the paperwork in front of him and quickly scribbles something before moving on to the next question.
“Did you and your spouse go on a honeymoon? If yes, where did you go?” he asks us.
“Florida,” Vincent replies in a clipped voice, and I roll my eyes.
“We went to Key West. Vincent took me to visit Ernest Hemingway’s house. It was built in 1851 and Ernest moved there in 1931. The house still contains the furniture he and his family used. It was fascinating,” I tell the man with a dreamy smile, remembering walking through that house and touching the things that Hemingway would have touched.
And all the touching we did back at our hotel. And on the beach. And in a restaurant bathroom.
“Is that all you did on this honeymoon?” the officer asks in a bored voice.
“Yes,” I reply, at the same time Vincent says “No!”