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“Oh?” Elle asks. “That sounds ominous.”

“The zipper isn’t the problem. I think there’s an issue with the sizing,” Macy says in soft voice, almost as if she’s afraid to utter those words.

“The sizing?” Elle’s shoulders slump, and I can see her bottom lip tremble. “I’m too fat to be Princess Charlotte?”

I hold my hands in the air. “You’re not fat. You’re gorgeous.”

“You look great. Don’t put yourself down like that,” Macy chimes in.

Elle looks at herself in the mirror, tears pooling in her eyes. “That’s all fine and dandy, but if I didn’t have a muffin top, the dress would fit me. Oh my God, I’m the biggest princess ever.”

I walk over and give her a hug. “You’re the most beautiful princess this park has ever seen, okay? And we’re going to figure this out. Right?” I ask, giving Macy a pleading look over Elle’s head.

“Absolutely. We’ve got an entire hour before the park opens. We’ll make that dress fit.” She rushes over to a table filled with fabric and sewing notions and grabs a kit of sewing supplies.

“I don’t know. I look like a cinnamon bun someone tried to fit into a candy bar wrapper.”

“That would never work,” I say with a frown.

Elle lets out a frustrated sigh. “Exactly! It’s nuts.”

Macy gently leads her away from the mirror. “Calm down. I’ve worked here for a long time and you’ve got to trust me when I say I’ve got this under control.”

No matter how bad I want to stay and console Elle, I think it’s best if I slip out. “I’ll see you at the castle in a bit, okay?”

Elle nods and flashes me a weak smile. “Thank you. I hope I won’t let everyone down.”

“Nonsense. You couldn’t, even if you tried,” I say, and head out.

***

Forty-five minutes later, Elle strides toward me, giving me a vision of what she might look like on our wedding day. I flinch. Why do my thoughts go there? Thank goodness she’s not a mind reader because if she were, and she knew I was thinking about marrying her, she’d scoop up her skirt and run away. I know they say every girl dreams about a fairy-tale wedding, but not with a guy they’ve only been dating for a week. I think. Women’s minds work in mysterious ways so I could be dead wrong about this.

“Hey, you.”

It’s all I manage to say. Our shift starts in ten minutes, and I need to keep my cool.

She performs a curtsy, then twirls around. “What do you think?”

“I think you look amazing. And I love how you’re beaming,” I say as we slip behind the staff door to a small courtyard where I spend most of my breaks.

“I’m so happy Macy was able to fix this dress. You can hardly tell it didn’t fit me an hour ago.” Relief and contentment are plastered all over her face.

“She did a great job,” I say. “Are you ready for your first day as Princess Charlotte?”

“Ready, but also extremely nervous. What if I make a wrong move or say the wrong things? What if people flip through their pictures on their way back home and cringe because I look silly?”

I put a hand around her waist. “You trained days for this, remember? You’ve got this. Plus, I’m here to help should you need it.”

She grins at me, and I’m about to lose myself in the green pools of her eyes. “That’s right. You’re my knight in shining armor. Better yet, my prince on a white horse. Scrap that, my prince on his trusty beast of a motorcycle.”

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” I say with a laugh.

She leans in to kiss me. It’s a good thing guests are prohibited from entering this space, because the urgency in her kiss tells me things are about to get heated.

I answer her kiss with the same dedication she puts forth and gently push her up against the faux-stone wall. Her hands roam through my hair. She’s going to mess up my Prince Charming hairdo, but I don’t care. This is all too good to stop.

I trail kisses from her mouth to her cheek, to her ear, all the way down to her neck. The sounds she’s making only spur me on. I gently bite her skin and I can feel her fingers press against the back of my upper arms. This is the kind of kiss that will sustain me for the next five years. Why would I ever need food or water or air when I’ve got Elle?