Page 20 of Gotta Have Mistletoe

Glen’s eyes widen, and I hope I’m not making everything worse.

“He went into the wrong room,” I continue. “It was a simple mix-up.”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Glen says eagerly.

We gaze at the businessman.

“You’re out of luck. I’m using my Vegas contractor.” The businessman marches away, and I hate the way Glen’s shoulders slump. They only go down a couple of millimeters, but I notice all the same, and abhor it.

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammer out to Glen.

“Not your fault, Your Majesty,” Glen says. He nods to Anders. “Nice speaking to you, Prince.”

I suspect listening to awkward sexuality revelations don’t precisely count as pleasant conversations, but he’s more of a gentleman than anyone I met at court.

Then he leaves.

Despite what he said, this is my fault.

I remain melancholic when we return to the hotel.

I am not having a nervous breakdown.

I am a king.

But I’ve never felt less royal in my life. Guilt embeds itself into each cell, and I lie on the couch in the suite as Olav paces the room.

“Remember when I kept saying it wasn’t too late?” Olav asks finally.

I straighten. “Yes.”

“At this point, it is too late.”

My shoulders slump, then I glower. “There must be a way. Find it. Execute it.” I wave my hand around. “Do your royal advising thing.”

“I can call Miss Haugeland and tell her that this man misspoke, Your Majesty.”

I nod eagerly. “Do that.”

“But it won’t work. Unless you want me to tell Miss Haugeland you mistook a tree-delivery man for your fiancée.”

I leap from the couch. “He’s a contractor. He runs his own business!”

Olav bites his lower lip. Maybe it’s to keep from smiling. But in the next moment he’s huffing and rolling his eyes again, and I hate it.

Olav is not being helpful.

It doesn’t matter. I can come up with ideas. In fact...

“Fear not,” I assure him, and my shoulders might be expanding slightly. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, no. Not another one of your ideas.”

I scowl at Olav. “Give me a few hours.”

“Don’t contact the cowboy. You’ll just worsen the situation.”

I cross my arms. Olav is not being helpful. Of course, I’m going to contact Glen. I just got him fired. I have a solution that will help us both. “Goodbye, Olav.”