Forever Princess (The Princess Diaries 10)

Only, of course, Sebastiano still hasn’t grasped the basics of the English language, so he just called it a “porc.”

“G-Grandmère,” I stammered. “What are you saying? Sh-should I give Michael another chance? Should I give J.P. his ring back?”

I swear my heart was slamming so hard inside my chest, I felt like I could hardly breathe as I waited for her reply. Which is weird because it’s not like I particularly VALUE advice from Grandmère, as she is, in fact, a certified lunatic.

“Well,” Grandmère said, looking thoughtful. “It is a terribly large ring. On the other hand, it’s a terribly expensive piece of medical equipment. But you can’t wear a robotic surgical arm.”

See what I mean?

“I know what you should do, Amelia,” Grandmère said, brightening. “Sleep with both of them, and whichever young man performs better in the boudoir, that’s the one you keep. That’s what I did with Baryshnikov and Godunov. Such lovely boys. And so flexible.”

“Grandmère!” I was shocked. I mean, seriously: How evil is she? How could we even be of the same bloodline?

Honestly, I don’t consider myself a prude. But I think you should at least be in love with someone before you do that with them (something I have tried unsuccessfully to impress upon Lana. Oh, and my grandmother).

Anyway, I told her not to be stupid, that I’m not sleeping with anybody. Mia Thermopolis’s Big Fat Lie Number Nine.

But what am I going to do? I’ve gotten a confirmation e-mail back from Tina. (She’s here tonight with Boris. But, of course, we can’t talk about it. Not with J.P. around. Oh, and Boris.)

She thinks Michael’s note meant what Grandmère thinks it did (but who even counts what Grandmère thinks, as she’s clearly unhinged): Michael really did send the CardioArm for me. ME!

Tina says I’ve got to write him back and truly make some kind of arrangement to see him in person. Because, as she just texted from her seat:

You can’t leave Michael hanging. He could just be flirting with you…but I doubt it. He went to a lot of trouble to send that CardioArm…not to mention Micromini Midori along with it.

And the only way to find out what’s really going on with him is to see him in person. You’ll know when you look him in the eye whether he’s playing or for real.

This is serious, Mia: You could find yourself TORN BETWEEN TWO LOVERS!!!!

I know you’re probably really upset about this, but is it wrong that I for one find it VERY VERY EXCITING????? Okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop bouncing up and down in my seat. Someone in the next row just shot me a very annoyed look, and Boris wants me to pay attention to the play now.

I’m glad someone’s happy about it, but I personally am not. I honestly don’t know how it happened. How could I, Mia Thermopolis, go from being the most boring person on the planet (except for the princess thing), who has basically never left her house for the past year and a half because she was always working on her senior project, a history on Genovian olive oil pressing, circa 1254–1650 (and, okay, it was really a historical romance novel, but so what?), to a girl who is being sought after by two highly desirable men?

Really, how????

And, according to my best friend, what I’m supposed to do about it is arrange to meet the one to whom I am not engaged-to-be-engaged….

But how can I arrange to meet Michael now, knowing my weakness for him—especially the smell of his neck—when he might possibly like me—enough to send my country a CardioArm (and someone to teach our surgeons how to use it)?

I can’t do that to J.P. J.P. has his faults (I still can’t believe he hasn’t read my book), but he’s never met his exes behind my back (not that he has any exes, besides Lilly). He’s never lied to me.

And admittedly, I don’t think that whole Judith Gershner thing is as big a deal now as I used to, considering it all happened before Michael and I ever went out. I never did flat out ask Michael if he’d ever been with anybody else before me, so, technically, it’s not like he actually lied.

But there is no denying the fact that that was an important piece of information that he really ought to have shared with me. People in romantic relationships really are supposed to share their sexual history with each other. Their complete sexual history.

Although I guess he did share it with me. Eventually.

And I behaved with about as much maturity as a five-year-old. Just like he knew I would.

Oh, God! I’m so confused. I don’t know what to do! I need to talk this all out with someone sane—someone who is not related to me (see previous statement re: someone sane) or who I go to school with.

Which just leaves Dr. Knutz, I think, unfortunately.

But I’m not seeing him until Friday for what will be our last appointment ever. So.

LUCKY ME!!!! I get to sit around and try to figure out what the right thing to do is on my own until then.

I guess this is how people who are eighteen and soon-to-be high school graduates deal with things.