Royal Wedding (The Princess Diaries 11)

“Well,” I said, thinking about what the Drs. Moscovitz had said. Is there ever a good time to tell your father that his future son-in-law’s parents think he has an Oedipus complex? No. Some things are better kept to yourself.

“Naturally, I can understand why an independent, free-spirited woman like your mother—or Elizabeth—wouldn’t want to settle down with a man like me, who has as many responsibilities as I do—”

“I know you can’t help that you were born a prince,” I interrupted, “but no one is forcing you to stay on the throne, or run for prime minister year after year.”

He looked a bit startled at this. “But I have to. For the good of the country. And what reasonable woman would want to live with my mother, even in a palace on the Mediterranean, in the most beautiful country in the world?”

“None,” I said, thinking about what my mother had said to me on the phone about Dad when we’d discussed Michael’s proposal. “But Grandmère does have her own place, you know. You could always ask her to actually stay there.”

He looked even more alarmed. “Stay in the summer palace? Year-round?”

“The summer palace isn’t exactly an outhouse, Dad. It has seventeen bedrooms.”

“I don’t think your grandmother would hear of it,” he said.

“Dad!” This just goes to show that you can have all the money in the world—even a castle and a crown—and it still can’t buy you happiness. Or common sense. “Listen to yourself. You sound like someone complaining that your diamond shoes are too tight.”

He looked taken aback. “My what?”

“Your diamond shoes. I know you don’t literally own a pair of diamond shoes, but someone quite wise told me that we need to be more appreciative of the things we have. You have to make sacrifices for love, you know.”

“By wearing overpriced, uncomfortable shoes?”

“No, Dad.” I took a deep breath and tried to find another way to make him understand. “It’s like what Robert Frost said in that poem about the road less traveled. It may not get you to where you were headed, but it will get you somewhere, and that place may be even better than where you thought you were going.”

Dad glared at me. “You know, I prefer following maps, Mia. GPS is even better.”

“I know. But I don’t think maps or GPS are working for you anymore, Dad. Prenups and living with Grandmère and keeping all these secrets and promises you made to people who aren’t around anymore? Olivia’s mom has been dead for ten years now. I think the statute of limitations on your promise to her is up.”

He nervously chewed his lower lip, which was upsetting, because then it looked like he had no lips at all, like a bird. I wanted to tell him to stop, but it’s not really the kind of thing you can say to your parent.

“I . . . I don’t know, Mia. I’ve never been a father before. Not like this. With you, I always had your mother. I knew she’d never do the wrong thing.”

“Dad, being a single parent was never easy for Mom, even if to you she might have made it look that way. Do you think she’s having an easy time with Rocky? She’s not. The school sent him home with a note the other day asking that Mom take him to a psychopharmacologist because of his obsession with farting.”

Dad got the faraway look in his eyes he always has when the subject turns to my mother. “That’s not your mother’s fault. The boy has just suffered the loss of his father. And besides, that school obviously isn’t a very good one if it can’t handle a young boy’s perfectly normal interest in flatulence.”

“Well, be that as it may, parenting isn’t easy for anyone. It’s the hardest job in the world, but I think you’d be good at it. You’ve always done pretty well with me.”

“Your mother did all the heavy lifting with you. I think I could make things much, much worse for that little girl.”

“Worse than not being there at all?” I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t see how.”

I shouldn’t have said it. I should have said something else—pulled out one of my many platitudes, or lies—or simply shut my mouth and said nothing at all.

But I didn’t, and the result was that tears filled my father’s eyes.

It’s pretty horrible to watch your dad cry. I’m not going to say it’s the worst thing in the world, because there are definitely worse things, like that time I went to Africa to oversee the installation of some water wells. Seeing a man driving a hollowed-out Sealy box spring on wheels pulled by a donkey down the highway, his family sitting inside it (because that was the only form of transportation they could afford), was definitely worse than watching my dad cry.

But awkwardly patting my dad’s shoulder and telling him things were going to be okay when, to be honest, I wasn’t sure they were going to be (just like with Africa, even after installing the wells) was up there on my list of worst things ever.

Finally, I got up and grabbed my phone to check out the menus the RGG had provided me from all the restaurants in the area that had been approved to deliver to us.

“I’m going to order some dinner now,” I said. “Is there anything you particularly feel like eating?”

I think this surprised Dad so much that he forgot about crying, which was partly my intention. “I . . . I don’t know,” he said, looking shocked. Food? Who can think about food at a time like this? Uh, Mia Thermopolis can.

“Well, you have to eat something. Hunger and dehydration can lead to impaired decision making, and also mood swings.” At least according to iTriage, and also Ling Su, who always makes sure the kids at the center have plenty of healthy snacks to eat while doing their homework. It’s led to a lot less crying-while-doing-algebra. “Marie Rose left a lot of stuff in the fridge, but I really don’t think I could handle black truffle mac and cheese right now. What about you?”