All preparations have been made for today’s royal wedding— my own. All decorations are up. Everything is fairy tale perfect.

There’s just one problem. The fake princess is not here. It’s two o’clock and I haven’t heard from her all day. I had the shoes custom-made in the sizes she requested. I have the dress hanging up and ready to go. But she isn’t here to wear it.

“I told you that girl was no good,” says my mom, still thinking I’m supposed to be marrying Julie. “She’s standing you up on your wedding day and making you look bad.”

“Mom, now is not the time for I told you so’s,” I tell her, frustrated.

Now is the time to find my princess, I think to myself.

My mom may have been right about Julie. And I’m sure you would say I should have learned my lesson by now. But I have a completely different feeling about the girl I was with last night. She is genuine. The real thing. Something very rare these days in a world of fake glitter and glamour.

There must be something preventing her from coming. Some reason she can’t. Because I know she had wanted to. I know she wouldn’t do this to me on purpose.

She had mentioned having to get back for an important business matter. I wrack my brain, trying to think if she had said where.

That’s it. She had mentioned an office on Pearl Street. I’m sure I can find it. I just have to hurry.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell my mom.

“Where you going?” she screeches.

I suddenly realize that I don’t even know who I’m looking for. I have no idea what her name is and I might not even recognize her. Sure, we had a great time last night and I’m foolishly thinking she might be the love of my life, but she was in costume. A black mask covered half her face and cinder ashes were all over her skin, as was white face paint.

Like a flash of genius the thought comes to me. I go and grab the shoes that she was so embarrassed about having me have to special order.

“At least take the servants,” my mom says. Oh please, I think. They’re completely useless.

But then I realize I need them to drive. Denver doesn’t exactly have the best public transportation.

“To Pearl Street,” I order Lionel, the driver. He looks at me like I’m crazy.

“Sir, where on Pearl Street does your Royal Highness wish to go?” he asks me.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just going to go up and down Pearl Street knocking on doors until I find the person who fits these shoes.”

“That’s crazy,” Deron says, not even bothering to follow up with the Royal Highness crap. But I can’t blame him because for once he’s right. My idea is ridiculous. But it’s the only one I’ve got.

As we start out on our crazy adventure, I asked myself, why am I really doing this? Just to prove my mother wrong? Is it just to save face?

Am I as bad as she is in that I cannot call off the wedding because I care what people think? But as we continue down the street I have to admit to myself the reason that I’m doing this is that I can’t live with myself if I don’t try to see this girl again. I have no idea what the future holds for us but I at least want to give us a chance to find out.

So as soon as we get to Pearl Street I begin my approach to the first house. When an older lady opens the door I ask, “Hello, ma’am, do you have any daughters?” but she looks at me like I’m crazy and slams the door in my face.

I can’t blame her. I’m acting pretty crazy and nobody can trust a random guy showing up on their doorstep anymore.

But I’m determined and so I go to the next house and ask the same thing. Anyone willing to talk to me, I talk to and I ask if any eligible young women will try on the shoes.

I’m not crazy enough to think that people won’t talk. A prince going up and down Pearl Street asking people to try on shoes is insane. I’m hoping it will help my cause. Maybe someone knows where the stranger from last night lives. Maybe somehow word will get to her.

On the other hand, I bet there are plenty of opportunistic young women out there who will pretend to be the princess I’m looking for. I don’t want to be fooled so no matter who she says she is, I’m going to make sure she fits in the shoes.

Part of me is asking, what if you never find her? But I try to focus on the part of me that is reassuring myself that I will find her. And this fancy glass slipper I had made especially for her odd sized foot will be the perfect fit only for her.