“You did it!” Lucy, wearing a green face mask, hugs me tight enough to collapse my lungs. “I can’t believe it! Look.” She releases me, touches her phone screen a few times, and shoves it in my face. I step back so that I can see appropriately, and it looks like Finley texted her early this morning, letting her know he had a wonderful time last night and would like to go out again.
I smile, then finish gathering my paperwork to bring to the office. Yes, I’m aware it’s Saturday, but I didn’t get the work finished that I wanted to last night because I was shipped off on a date that I had no business going on.
I can’t believe he said he had a wonderful time. Withme.
“Your eye should be healed enough for regular concealer in a few days. Make sure to plan the date then.” I pick up my brown leather briefcase and swing my little black purse over my shoulder. “I’m going to the office. See you later.” I open the door, but turn around. “Oh, and don’t forget to rub more arnica cream around your eye.”
Lucy waves, already reading Finley’s text again, or so I’m assuming. She does that often when it comes to men who show interest in her. But the thing is, I did a horribly awful job at impersonating Lucy. Finley kept encouraging the real me, and I kept releasing her out into the wild.
And he liked it.
He liked me.
I walk down the two flights of stairs, finding I have a little more bounce in my step than usual. The morning sun is bright, the wildflowers in the grassy patch across from the complex are beginning to spring up, the humidity in the air feels revitalizing for once, and the indigo buntings nested in the large oak tree sing a lovely tune.
I pause at the end of the steps and inhale.
My favorite season has officially arrived.
As I hop in my car and drive the short distance to the law office, I recall my conversation with Lucy late last night. Naturally, I didn’t tell her of my abysmal behavior. I simply said that I slipped up a few times and spilled random facts, but overall, it was a normal experience. I absolutely didnottell her that I accidentally flung a chair into his man bits. She’d kill me for that. But in the grand scheme of things, I’m positive Finley will enjoy her as he did me, if not way more.
He enjoyed me.
Why does that thought keep resonating inside my head?
Must be because it was my first experience going on a date, and outside of my awkwardness when trying to act like my love-struck sister, I had a great time. It was fun to chat with him. He’sknowledgeable, enjoys listening to my random facts, and puts me at ease, weirdly enough.
If Finley does marry Lucy, at least I know I’ll like and get along well with my brother-in-law. I have decided that I will co-captain the shipping of their relationship alongside Hadley.
The parking lot is empty, and it’s my favorite sight. Getting to work in the office alone is like waking up to presents on Christmas morning as a child. I haul my belongings inside the small, gray-brick building, ride the elevator to the second floor, and pass by all the floor-to-ceiling frosted windows covering my coworkers’ offices until I reach mine at the end of the hall.
I enter my little nook, which I’ve brought to life with plants. A string of pearls hangs in front of my window, accompanied by a thriving pothos. An English ivy crawls on a bamboo plant ladder in the corner of the room, and I can’t forget about the three little ghost cacti on my L-shaped metal desk. Not to brag, but my office space is the most peaceful in the building with its cream walls, forestry calming light covers over the two obnoxiously bright ceiling lights, and the aromatic diffuser nestled between two African violets on the plant ladder. To top off the cuteness? A picture of my cats nestled inside of their little brown cat bed back at home is displayed in its rightful, prominent position to the immediate left of my two desktops. It’s in the perfect position to view when I need to look out the door or when I’m talking with a client across the desk.
After turning my computers on and filling my diffuser with eucalyptus, lemon, and sandalwood, I sit down and get to work.
At least, I try to. Curiosity gets the best of me, and I want to learn more about Finley’s country and his family. He danced around details about his home life, but I understand it’s because he’s a prince. If I were a princess going on a date with an average non-royal for the first time, I wouldn’t disclose that information either.
Though I have to admit, I’m glad Lucy has obsessive, stalkerish ways and researched Finley before she agreed to a date with him. Especially since I had to be the designated twin to go on the date in her stead. I don’t like to walk into situations without having all the facts if I can help it.
I open a tab on the web to research the country of Korsa, effectively distracting me from annotating client files. I click on the government’s page.
A scan through the website reveals Korsa is a tiny island country north of the United Kingdom and south of Norway and Sweden. It was originally native to Norwegian and Swedish peoples, but through various battles, a Viking subgroup known as Korsans took the land and claimed it as their own in the mid-1500s.
Next, I turn my attention to the ruling family, skipping over the king and queen for now. Finley is second in line to the throne and is one of three siblings—an older brother and a younger sister. Looking over their official pictures, my gut twists. They are all…perfect.Perfect jawlines, perfect noses, perfect hair, perfect eyes. All the siblings sport blue eyes and blond hair of similar shades. Comparing Finley to the crown prince, as they are the closest in age, subtle differences catch my eye. Where Finley’s eyes twinkle with mischief, even in this official photo, his older brother, wholooks to be named after their father, Erik Johan Andersson, is steady and regal. Finley’s hair, though styled, still has a tousled wave to it while his brother’s is slicked back without any evidence of a tousel.
Overall, Finley radiates effervescence; the crown prince commands order and seriousness.
Astrid resembles Finley over the crown prince, though she has a seraphic quality to her sharp but light features. Scrolling back up the page to the king and queen, I realize Finley and Astrid resemble King Erik while the crown prince takes after Queen Sylvia. The queen has long, silvery hair and darkened eyes. She looks like the embodiment of ice. The king sports darker gray hair cut short and, regardless of his aged state, his eyes are bright windows to what I assume would be a shining soul.
I smile while looking over the king’s picture; he doesn’t frighten me like the queen does. In fact, I imagine Finley will age like the king, keeping his twinkling eyes.
I close out of the tab as if that shuts down the nonsensical thoughts of twinkling eyes and reach for my bottle of water. After taking a big gulp, I steady my breathing, open my client files, and focus back on work I desperately need to attend to before Monday rolls around.
A couple of hours later, I stand up to stretch my legs and refill my water bottle. As I’m taking a quick jaunt around the building, I notice my boss’s light is on.
I rap on the door, and within moments, the frosted glass entry opens.
“Hi, Mr. Austen,” I say with a wave, greeting the man who looks like he could be my much older sibling. His hair, which resembles a deep reddish-orange sunset, is combed back with a wave that dips in the front. He has freckles dotting his face like I do, but unlike me, he’s tall and brawny. Perfectly proportioned, if I do say so myself.
