She raises an eyebrow. “We meet with our peer advisers tomorrow!” To her, our peer advisers might as well be the dean of admissions.
“We can meet with them on Monday, and I promise we’ll be home before classes start.”
She narrows her eyes. “Where do you want to go?”
“Toronto.”
“Why?”
“My dog is in Toronto.”
She scrunches her nose in confusion. “Am I drunk, or did you just tell me that Wally didn’t run away?”
“He didn’t. Wally’s fine. I’m talking about the dog I rescued in Europe.”
She holds her hands up. “Back up. I only drank half a beer, but none of this makes sense. I thought Theo had Comet.”
“He does.”
Her mouth splits into a knowing grin. “Theo’s in Canada?” she squeals.
“And he’s not alone.” I show Naomi the articles and videos I looked at earlier, pausing on a shot of Theo, his seventeen-year-old sister, Victoria, and his eighteen-year-old brother, Henry, strolling through the park with Comet on a leash. My heart pangs at the sight of my bulky yellow Lab, with his floppy ears and goofy face. When I found Comet abandoned at a gas station in France, Theo didn’t evenwantto bring him with us. “He’s mine. End of story.”
“Theo or the dog?”
“The dog, obviously,” I scoff.
She narrows her eyes in disbelief. “You want to take a spontaneous trip to Canada less than four days before college starts and you expect me to believe it has nothing to do with your royal boyfriend?”
“He’s not my boyfriend!”
“Sorry. I meant fake husband.”
When I first got home, I told Naomi about the amazing Greek family who’d rescued Theo and me after we’d jumped off a ferry. They’d believed we were engaged and would only agree to take us to Theo’s family compound in Santorini if we got married first. I’d explained to Naomi how I’d convinced Theo to marry me under the assumption that he’d sign his fake name on the marriage certificate, that the wedding wouldn’t be legal, and (most importantly) that we’d be dead in a few days anyway.
That’s not what happened.
“If I show you something—do you promise to keep it a secret?” I ask.
Her expression turns serious. “Of course.”
“Get up.” I nudge her off my bed and kneel next to it. I lift one corner of the mattress and reach for the piece of paper that’s been haunting me all summer. I’d hoped moving out of this room would help me forget about it, but I couldn’t even make it a full week before it drew me back like a magnet.
“This was mailed to me.” I hand the paper to Naomi and sit on the edge of my bed, chewing my lip while I wait for her reaction.
It’s been weeks since the marriage certificate bearing the namesWren WheelerandTheodore Geoffrey Edward Georgemysteriously showed up in my mailbox with no return address. I’ve studied that paper every day since, as if staring at the messy script will make it make sense.
Theo didn’t even want to marry me at first! Knowing our marriage wasn’t real was the only way he would agree to it. I don’t understand why he would protest so much, nearly leave me at the altar, and then sign his real name.
Naomi looks at me with wide eyes. “Are you—” She cuts herself off and looks back down at the paper. “Does this mean—” She glances at it one more time before collapsing onto the bed, howling with laughter. “Are you married to the literal king of England?” Tears gather at the corners of her eyes.
“I don’t know! But thank you for laughing at my misery.” I moan and pull a Squishmallow over my face.
She yanks the stuffed squirrel out of my hands and hits me in the face with it. “Ah yes, the absolute misery of being married to the hottest, richest, most eligible bachelor on the planet. How will you possibly survive?”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s exactly like that. You’re the queen! Of a whole damn country! Mazel!”
