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What woke Mia up was her phone going off on the nightstand. Beneath the blankets, she shoved her hands onto her face and groaned. Usually she had everything on Silent. Why wasn't that happening now? Despite the morning blurriness in her brain, her mind started to churn its way towards remembering. Now, that was it -- Michael and one of his Silicon Valley friends had helped her rig it so it only went off if either 1) her grandma had some serious medical emergency.....or 2) the Thermopolis family was trending online.
Clarisse and Joe were currently off beachcombing in the Florida Keys, so it was probably the latter.
Mia shot her eyes open. She blinked against the double vision to focus on the ceiling, which -- definitely didn't have the murals she'd painted in her palace room with her mom five years ago. Instead it was all one flat square of sandy beige. Bumpy. More like a hotel than a Mediterranean palace. Wait. A hotel? She leaned onto her side to think on it. She'd been doing just fine living on the palace grounds, so why would she --
She'd leaned too far forward, and her stomach smushed against hard plastic. She startled, then winced as the room's TV suddenly sprang to life. Without her contacts in, Mia squinted to read the default text on screen: Enjoy your stay at the Da Costa Hotel - San Francisco.
"I'm back in the States?" she quietly hissed to herself. "At home? But why here...I mean, me and Lilly always used to make fun of all the preps and millionaires who stay there."
A deep rumbling came from somewhere behind her. Fists curling, it took everything in her not to scream. But then a familiar voice piped up -- "I think that's exactly why you chose here for us to crash, Highness."
"Nicholas??" Mia exclaimed. She only used his full name when she was pissed at him -- which was often, it seemed. She began to flip around to face the man. "What the hell are you doing in America, in my hotel room, and -- AHH!"
She practically jumped back to her side of the bed, eyes now totally welded shut. Not only was he in her room, he was in her bed. Wearing nothing but his boxers! "Why the HELL are you naked, Devereaux."
She heard him rustle around in the sheets. "Well, judging by the past almost-two-decades, I thought you liked it when that happened."
She opened her eyes, rolling them to the ceiling. "Well of course I do, normally I do, but right now I have no idea why....Um." She smoothed her hands out across the fuzzy green blanket. "Last night, did we --"
Nick dipped his head. "Yes. But it was right before bed, and by then we were both completely sober, so you were also fully ready and enthusiastic for it." She would never expect anything less from him, but it was still a relief to get the confirmation.
Mia sighed. "Good. Okay. Thank God. So I just must've been so exhausted after...all of that...that I have no clue how we wound up here this morning."
Her phone dinged again, and Nick cringed at the sound. "Why don't you go check your phone?" he asked. "Mine's still in my bag."
Bracing herself for the worst, Mia began to open her social media apps. Sure enough, THERMOPOLIS was the #2 Trending word today. (#1 was about some 1970s British rocker dude recovering from hip surgery.) Shakily putting on her spare pair of glasses (it was too early to focus on setting in contacts), she dragged her pale finger across the leading posts of the timeline....
>LOL here we all were thinking princess mia was such a little sweetheart
>i better not see anyone shaming princess mia for her secret wedding!! she deserves the happiness and besides her new husband is wicked hot
>the only thing i hate about mia's san-fran shotgun wedding is that now we won't have a huge official one at the palace with all her hollywood friends attending all dressed up :(((
>> bestie even if they all were invited none of them would dress up cool -- have u seen the met gala red carpet
Mia blinked. Were her Met Gala outfits really that boring? Maybe she really should've taken up Paolo on his offer to design her gown this year. (Nick always wore basic black velvet suits like some normie, but everyone always still gushed over it because of his shiny perfect hair or whatever.)
Nick made a small humming noise. "Did we....get married last night?"
Mia dipped her head. "Apparently so..." Her dark hair flopped down and fanned all across her face. "Oh shit -- my hair's all thick and curly again, my latest keratin treatment wore off!"
"I don't know why you even still do that to your hair," he winced. "All those chemicals over the past 20 years have probably seeped into your brain by now."
She yanked a fistful of locks back behind her head. "And yet with all that chemical damage, I'm still smarter than you."
He made a show of shrugging his shoulders. "Didn't stop you from going curly at the ceremony. Or from wearing your frames."
"What??" She pulled her app timeline back out --
Sure enough, the next post on the feed compared a photo of her at the Met Gala, all straight-haired and contact-wearing and perfect, next to....a photo from last night. It was only from the shoulders up, so the focus was on her clear glasses frames and bushy high ponytail. The caption: When you order something online vs when it arrives.
She shook her head around like it was caught in a windstorm. "Oh God, this is just like high school all over again! Except now there's actual political implications."
"I doubt any prime minister is gonna break their trade deal over some glasses," Nick sighed. "Maybe over some random drunk shotgun wedding, but..." He fell silent.
Mia just kept scrolling, through meme after meme on her wispy hair frizzing out or her glasses fogged up from the nighttime air. Other than that, though, in the photos she and him seemed.....really really happy. As their photo-selves strolled out of that San Francisco courthouse, they looked as proud as if they were stepping out of the Genovian Botanical Gardens (where many celebrity weddings, and Clarisse and Joe's vows renewal, had taken place).
"We're dressed like we just came from some embassy ball, like --" She snapped her fingers. "Of course! I dragged you to that embassy ball in San Fran. And then we must've gotten really drunk and really dumb....and then this happened."
In the meantime, it seems that Nick had been finishing up putting on his clothes for the day. "Really dumb, huh?"
Mia crossed her arms over her thick summer nightgown. "When I said dumb, I didn't mean it like --"
He held up a palm. "No no, I get it. It's just, apparently we got married last night, after almost 20 years of screwing around doing nothing, and all you can say is that it was dumb. Just some mistake."
Was he really that passionate about this? About them together? "But --" She tried a gentler approach. "You were the one who suggested we do the friends-with-benefits thing, since when we met we were both just out of college and trying to build our careers and images. And I agreed with you! Especially since you 'didn't want to get tied down so early.'" She decided not to bring up the time in 2008 when she caught him flirting with the Swedish prime minister's daughter. Or with that British actress in 2011.
Somehow, though, he must've read her mind. "Well you weren't exactly tied down either. Remember when you ran off with that Moscovitz guy for a year?"
She furrowed her brows. "That 'guy' was my high school sweetheart and my best friend's brother. Michael was my first real love!" Her face softened. "Maybe in another life he and I could've had a little house and kids, but....not in this life. I found out I don't feel that way for him anymore." She dared to look him in the eyes, for probably the first time that morning. "Not like I feel about you."
Nick hopped back onto the bed, reached out, and cupped her face with one hand. "Mia." He looked dead at her. "You -- you can't just say something like that lightly. I'm -- I'm happy just being the quiet sexy prince consort in the background, but only if it means that I get to stay in your life."
"What? I'm not telling you to leave..."
"I mean --" He sighed. "I guess what I'm saying is, if you want to divorce and be done with it, I'm cool with it, but one day down the line I do want to marry you. And it's been almost twenty years and I don't think I can take waiting any longer for all these stupid arguments between us to fan out."
A sudden noise came from Mia's phone -- somehow, her app was now autoplaying a video of someone's covert footage from last night.
Video-Nick spoke first. "I mean, we've been on-again-off-again and friends with benefits for like, 18 damn years now."
"Yeah!" Video-Mia added, also noticeably drunk. "I have no clue why we waited this long to get married, neither of us has run off with another date for years now."
"Why would I want to? I have you."
"D'aww...." Silence for a few seconds. "You know, I would've married you tonight even if I wasn't drunk."
The video cut off.
"You...." Present-Mia struggled for the right words. "You married me even without my real face all put on."
"Mia, that's not your real eyes, or real hair! Like I said, I don't get why you do all that stuff, you're gorgeous no matter what style you do."
Oh. That was the first time he'd ever admitted that.
Flustered, Mia returned to her phone for more scrolling....Now, out of nowhere, was a whole flood of posts actually praising her for her more "authentic" look?
> i think this is actually the 1st time i've seen princess mia w/o straight hair. also did anyone else know she wore glasses/contacts this whole time??
>> yeah the curls would've been so much prettier on her last met gala look. also some fancy glasses frames would've been so cute too </3
> okay but who is the head stylist or genovian royal who SHAMED mia into keeping her real look from us for 20 YEARS. what kind of message is that sending to average young women? because they need to get sacked immediately.
Awww, so there were kind people on the internet after all. (Although they were right, she'd have to have a sitdown with Paolo's team about makeovers and self-worth after this was all settled.)
"Also..." he trailed on, "You said you would've married me even if you weren't drunk?"
She smoothed a hand over the blanket again. "Yes. Yes I would've. I mean, like you said, it's been 18 years of this game. We might as well make it official, right?" She leaned over across the bed and kissed him on the hair. "I would be honored to be your wife."
"O-oh...." he stammered. "Does this mean you're proposing to me again?"
"No, not just yet. First we have to tell my grandma about all of this. She would kill us if we got married without an actual traditional royal wedding."