Definitely Not Mr. Darcy

The cabbie handed the crate to Chloe. “Thank you very much. I’ve got a pickup.” He left her there on the curb, loaded with baggage, meowing crate in hand. And he didn’t even bow.

Alistair turned in his crate and scratched on the door. She lumbered over to a line of cabs. She knocked on every window, but nobody wanted to drive out to the country at this hour. Did these people want to make money or what?

Final y, she gave up. It was time to check in. The overhead announcements, flashing computer screens, ads, and throngs of people dashing around made her queasy. She leaned on the metal stand that marked the end of the long, mazelike check-in line for economy class. Crying children clung to their parents. Some people carried suitcases and cardboard boxes wrapped in duct tape. She glanced over to the business-class checkin. Two men in suits and a woman with a laptop floated to their respective check-in desks.

Her check-in guy didn’t even smile. He just handed the crate back to her. “Al animals need to be brought to the international cargo desk.” He did say this with a charming, posh English accent, though. “Four hours ahead of departure.”

Chloe’s passport shook in her hands. “What? But my flight leaves in an hour!”

He gave her a blank stare. The man behind her bumped into her with his rol ing carry-on and didn’t even apologize—or stop.

“Can the cat go on the next flight, then?”

No response.

“Without me?”

“I do believe that’s possible.”

An hour later she was in the boarding line, half expecting Henry to burst through the crowd and give it one more shot. But he didn’t.

If she weren’t so hungry, she might’ve thought the empty feeling inside was something like regret. She was so hungry she might’ve even eaten a rabbit with head and furry ears stil intact.

“Second row from the back, middle seat,” said the flight attendant on board. She had an American accent.

The person behind Chloe pushed into her. Chloe took her ticket from the flight attendant.

“Um. Just a question. If I’ve changed my mind, can I go back now?”

The flight attendant smiled. “No.” She nudged Chloe along. “Second row from the back, middle seat.”

Chloe wedged herself between a sprawling teenager playing video games on his phone and a pregnant woman breathing heavily and spil ing over two seats. A child behind her kicked her seat incessantly. Nobody taught manners anymore. Mental note: buy iPad with earbuds as soon as possible.

She covered herself up in a blanket up to her chin, and decided to rid herself of al vestiges of her English fantasy world. It was over. So over. Stil , she hoped Alistair was okay. And Abigail. She couldn’t wait to see her!

Chapter 23

T en minutes with Abigail and it was as if Chloe had never left.

They quickly settled back into the strong mother-daughter They quickly settled back into the strong mother-daughter team they’d always been and Chloe served up pasta for nights on end. But it took weeks to deprogram Abigail out of the princess mode that Grandma and Grandpa had gotten her into, despite their current lack of cash. Chloe packed away the pink dress-up trunk ful of shiny gowns, magic wands, and plastic tiaras for good.

She donated the books of fairy tales to Goodwil and put Abigail on a strict diet of nonfiction because she didn’t want to perpetuate the myth of charming princes on horses and happily-ever-after.

“Grandpa stil cal s me his princess,” Abigail said days later as Chloe brushed her long brown hair for school. “And he said he’s the king.”

Chloe looked at the two of them in the bathroom mirror and pointed with the pink brush for emphasis. “Have I taught you nothing? Remember?

They’re not royalty of any kind. And neither are we.”

Abigail frowned and looked down at her new cowboy boots.

“You’re not a princess. You’re a very smart girl who’s going to go to col ege and live in an apartment and work in a big city. It’s so much better than being a princess.”

Abigail looked up with her long lashes. “So—after I work I’l meet the prince?”

Chloe sighed. This could take a while. “You might meet a smart man, and if you love him a lot, you might just ask him to marry you. Now come on, it’s time to go to your sleepover.”

Abigail went to a party that happened to have a princess theme and Chloe was having Emma over to watch the grand finale of what ultimately became How to Date Mr. Darcy on cable. Emma said she was bringing “a friend,” which usual y meant a blind date for Chloe, and they arrived before she could pour the appletinis and mojitos.

“Hi. I’m Dan.” Dan didn’t bow when he met her. He wore a Cubs hat and brought his own nachos with microwavable orange cheese. “It’s so cool to meet a reality star.”

Chloe shot a look at Emma as soon as she could, but Emma just shrugged. “He’s supernice,” she whispered. “Just give him a chance.”

“What’s for dinner?” Dan asked.

“Salad,” Chloe said.