Text from me to Tessa: How’s your day going?

Her: Up to my eyeballs in proofreading. Other than that, fine.

Me: Come by tonight. I want to help rid you of your stress.

Her: Mmm. Sounds intriguing. Eight, okay?

Me: Follow the trail of Jelly Babies leading from the front door.

I put my phone down on my desk and stare out the window, thinking about Tessa across the river in some stuffy office. I didn’t get to wake up with her in my arms this morning, or steal a kiss from her at breakfast. All we manage most days is just a few flirty texts until late evening, at which time we might see each other. But most of the time, we just increase the frequency of flirty texts followed by speaking on the phone until late into the night, ending the call with a disgustingly sweet, ‘you hang up first,’ ‘no, you hang up first.’

I need to get the ball rolling on our nuptials so I’ll never have to wake up without her again. I glance at the next item on my itinerary. I’ve got twenty-five minutes until I’m due to leave for a luncheon for the Muscular Dystrophy Society. Should be just enough time to plan a wedding…

“Vincent, can you pop in here for a moment?” I say into the intercom.

“Be right there, Your Highness.”

I take one last gulp of fresh air as the door opens and in walks my assistant, Vincent, whose smell rating today is at an all-time high of five on the ‘reeks of blue cheese’ ranking system I’ve devised. (But not to worry—I haven’t told anyone else about it. I would never want to embarrass him.) “Tessa and I had a chat over the weekend and we’d like to have a May wedding.”

Vincent opens his iPad case and nods. “Excellent, Your Highness, a most lovely time of year for such an occasion. The tulips will be in full bloom still, the weather will be warm. We can schedule a meeting…two weeks from tomorrow with the advisory members, as well as the head of programming at ABNC to get started.” He taps on his screen for a moment.

“I’m thinking we just choose a date now and then let everyone else catch up.”

“But, Prince Arthur, that’s not how this is done. There are literally hundreds of stakeholders involved. The two of us can’t simply book the wedding.”

“Why not? We set dates for important events all the time. Nobody complains.”

“We can try, Your Highness, but we may need to be somewhat flexible once everyone’s been consulted.”

“Fine, but only by a few days either way. The sooner, the better.”

“Certainly. May 2019 or May 2020?”

“May 2018.”

He looks up, his eyebrows creasing together. “As in six months from now?”

“Precisely.”

“Can’t be done.”

“Of course it can. We regularly book catering with fewer than three months’ notice for the largest of receptions. This is really no different when you think about it.”

“No different? Sir, we need to invite the heads of state and royal families for over two-hundred nations, not to mention clearing the schedules of your own family two weeks prior to the auspicious occasion. There are the television networks to consider, and we certainly don’t want it to conflict with any major world sporting events. Then there’s the matter of Ms. Sharpe’s dress, as well as that of the bridal party and outfitting her entire family with appropriate attire, which should be…interesting. The top designers will require, at minimum, one year. Can’t be done, Your Highness.” Suddenly, a look of understanding crosses his face. His eyes grow wide and his mouth hangs open for a second before he catches himself. “Oh, dear, are we required to hurry for a certain reason, sir? Because, if that’s the case, I think we’ll find six months too long. She’ll be showing by then.”

“Showing? God, no. We’re not expecting an heir.” I stand and walk to the window, then open it to allow some cool, autumn air into the room, unable to stand the smell of blue cheese any longer.

“Then, if I may, why the rush?”

I sigh heavily. “You must not ever tell anyone what I’m about to say, Vincent.”

“Do you really need to preface anything you tell me with the request to keep it confidential?”

“No, I suppose not.” I pause, wishing I didn’t have to admit it out loud. “It’s just that we miss each other very much now that we’re not under the same roof.” Gluing my eyes to the view of the front lawn, I try not to imagine the incredulous look on the face of my right-hand man.

“Even so, there are still all the other factors to consider. No one can pull off a royal wedding in such a short time.”

“Surely there must be someone who’s capable.”

He sighs and taps his finger on his chin for a moment. “Well, there’s the team that oversaw William and Kate’s wedding. They’re considered the best, although they did screw up royally by missing the chance to pre-approve Pippa’s dress.”

“Good Lord, so people could see her rather nicely-shaped bottom. You’d think she was wearing a set of pasties and a pair of Daisy Dukes. I was there, and I have to say most of the guests rather enjoyed it. The male ones, anyway.”

A slight smile escapes his lips, giving away that he rather enjoyed that dress, too. “Yes, well, I doubt they’ll be available given your somewhat unrealistic time frame.”

“Let’s try anyway, shall we? What’s the use of being a crown prince if you can’t even have your own wedding when you want?”

Vincent nods and stands, closing his iPad case before he walks out the door without another word. This is a sign that he’s very displeased but he’ll do what I’ve asked anyway. I’m not going to lie—it’s good to be almost king.

* * *

“Good morning and welcome to the morning show, Friday Edition. Our top news today comes from Valcourt Palace, where a date has been set for the upcoming nuptials of Prince Arthur to the former Royal Watchdog and so-called Shock Jogger blogger, Tessa Sharpe. Giles Bigley joins us from in front of the palace with more on this story.”

“Veronica, good morning.”

“Good morning, Giles. What can you tell us about the announcement from the palace?”

“I can tell you it’s not what anyone was expecting. It seems as though his Royal Highness Prince Arthur and Ms. Sharpe may be in rather a hurry to make it down the aisle. They’ve set the date for May seventh of next year. Only six months from now.”

“Giles, royal weddings normally take at least two years to plan, so why the rush?”

“That’s what we’re all wondering. The only possible explanation is that, by Avonian law, a baby born out of wedlock cannot be considered an heir to the throne.”

Blanching visibly, Veronica starts, “Certainly, you’re not suggesting…”

“It’s really the only possibility that makes sense. Why else would they want to rush this event?”

* * *

“Sir, I can get Sebastian Yates-Davenport but we have to book him now.” Vincent is standing at the door to my office, his headset in place.

“William and Kate’s?”

“Couldn’t get them. They’re holding out in case Harry and Megan set a date. Mr. Yates-Davenport did Prince Quinton and Princess Charlotte’s wedding, which is quite the miracle given the fact that she…”

“Tried to run away three times?”

“Allegedly.”

“Hire him.

“He’s charging double because of the time frame.”

“Negotiate him down. Tell him I don’t have any secret baby paternity tests pending.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”