The Truth About Happily Ever After

by Karole Cozzo

  And at the end of the day, I want to be his Lizzie. Claws or no claws.

  When I join the crowds making their way to the Palace, no one looks at me. No one smiles, no one throws compliments. By the time I reach the Palace, I’ve essentially become invisible.

  Tonight, because the weather has held up, the ball will take place in the open courtyard, complete with twisting stone paths, lush gardens, and tall topiaries. A bright moon shines overhead, and spotlights on the castle walls illuminate the party scene that awaits. Purple and yellow fabric banners run from wall to wall, the topiaries are wrapped in purple and yellow lights, and elaborate centerpieces grace each table. A life-size Drako the Dragon ice sculpture dominates the bar. The live band is playing dance remixes of popular songs from the Enchanted Enterprises movies.

  Even though it’s just after midnight, the party is already in full swing, and I realize finding the girls is going to be no easy task. Within minutes, I’ve already spotted three Rose Reds that aren’t Camila and two yellow butterflies that aren’t Chrissi. And while I’d like to find them, they’re not really who I’m looking for, anyway.

  If there is any chance he is here tonight …

  … I have no idea how he’ll feel about seeing me.

  My stomach tingles with nerves, and I make a quick stop at the bar to take a Bad Apple shot, which tastes like a horrid mix of whiskey and apple juice, for liquid courage.

  Then I go about the business of finding the only Drako the Dragon in the bunch that matters.

  As I push my way through the crowd, at one point I do see my friends. Chrissi has found her date, and Rose seems to be approximating a snake with her dance moves. Camila is dancing, albeit stiffly, with the Asian guy I saw that day in the cafeteria, making me wonder if the Enchanted magic and notion of romance has finally, finally gotten to her just a bit. Every few seconds, one of them glances around, clearly looking for me.

  Inside my lizard head, I giggle. It is kind of fun, being in disguise.

  What’s not so much fun is how many damn Drakos are in attendance tonight. Because he’s the central character in the park, there are an abundance of available Drako costumes for the ball, and it’s always a really popular choice.

  After fifteen minutes, I start to wonder if this is all futile. What if I don’t find him? What if he’s not here at all?

  I approach three different Drakos. When I tap the first one’s arm, he lifts his head to reveal a girl inside. When I approach the next one and pull back my head and smile, his girlfriend appears out of nowhere and glares at me. The third Drako I approach is a tall, thin Indian guy.

  I find myself at the base of the grand stairwell leading up to the rear of the Palace. My shoulders fall, and I stare around helplessly.

  Hopeless. This is hopeless. This isn’t turning out anything like I thought.

  Then, at the top of the stairwell, something—someone—catches my attention. A man stands by himself at the top, gazing intently in the direction of the Palace entrance.

  It’s the Swan Prince.

  I ascend the first three steps at once, then pause, tearing up as I assess him standing there.

  His hair is gelled for the first time ever. I think he’s trimmed his beard. He’s even wearing that stupid mask, its long, pointed orange bill coming down over his nose.

  He’s so handsome standing there, too-long pants gathering in folds over his shoes.

  My hand goes to my heart in response to this effort of his.

  Which was entirely unnecessary.

  I swallow back my tears and start waving toward him frantically to join me in the middle of the stairs.

  It takes him a while to realize I’m gesturing toward him. He won’t tear his eyes away from the Palace entrance.

  Finally he looks at me. “Did you … are you waving to me? Sorry … I’m just waiting for somebody.”

  Exasperated, in a sudden motion, I flip my headpiece off, and it falls heavily over the back of my neck. “Yes! I’m waving to you!”

  Miller tears off the swan mask. His eyes pop out of his head. He stumbles down four stairs to meet me. “What are you doing?”

  “I … I…” I throw my hands, well, claws, up into the air. “I’m trying to prove you wrong!”

  Miller stares at me another minute. Then he cracks up. “You look ridiculous! Your hair, those feathers, and your makeup, and that … getup.”

  “Yeah, well…” I glance at him quickly, then glance away. “You look really handsome.”

  He glances down ruefully. “I used an entire roll of hem tape. Damn things still won’t stay up.”

  He’s standing a step above me, and I have to look up at him. “Why?” I demand of him. “If you don’t want to go down that road with me … then why?”

  Miller swallows nervously. “I know you know I want to go down that road with you,” he whispers. “So much, it felt dangerous. Those other girls I told you about”—he waves his hand dismissively—“they hurt me, yeah. But you…” He flashes a small, sad smile. “… you could flat out eviscerate me.”

  “Miller…”

  He shakes his head. “It was so wrong, those things I said. They were mean. And unfair. An attempt at self-preservation, I guess.” He shakes his head again. “But they sure as hell weren’t true.” Finally he meets my eye. “I’m sorry I said them. I’m sorry I hurt you in an attempt to protect myself. And I wanted to make it up to you.”

  I gaze up at him for a long minute.

  “I’m not a princess, Miller.” I look down at my giant clawed feet. “And I’m not a lizard, either.” I join him on his step, so we’re looking eye to eye again. “Somewhere in between the two, there’s Alyssa. And there’s Miller.” I swallow hard. “And personally I think there’s a lot of good stuff there.

  “I know you see me,” I whisper. “I know you do. Underneath the tiaras and behind the gowns.” I find his hand. “And I really like the me you see. I’d like to get to know her better. But most of all I’d like to get to know you better. Please just give it a chance. Please don’t assume this story’s already written.”

  Miller looks at me, long and hard. So long I start fidgeting, shifting from claw to claw, feeling like I might explode.

  “Miller. Say something.”

  He doesn’t. He does one better.

  The next thing I know, he’s tearing the lizard headpiece all the way off, letting it fall to the ground and bounce down the stairwell. Miller grabs my face and kisses me without hesitation.

  Miller lifts me off the ground with the force of his kiss, spinning me around, my heel kicking up behind me. And I get that this is real life and everything, but this kiss … this kiss is definitely the stuff of fairy tales.

  We kiss and kiss, in the middle of the stairwell, on display for the entire party. It’s not long before I realize we’ve gained the attention of the crowd, that hundreds of faces have turned toward us, watching, clapping, cheering.

  It seems like I may have gotten a grand entrance after all. I never expected to make it dressed as a giant lizard, but I guess there’s more than one way to make a grand entrance.

  We pause, pull apart, and turn around to survey the crowd. I giggle in embarrassment, burying my face in Miller’s chest in response. Then I wave, and he offers a low bow.

  As I survey the crowd, from the corner of my eye I see Sleeping Beauty in her wedding dress and her Prince Charming, side by side, smiling and clapping with the crowd. It’s Harper, and Jake, and apparently he was willing to dress up for her in a way he never was for me. And I couldn’t give a hoot.

  I mean, as it turns out, Jake was right, anyway. I do deserve better, better than him, better than an illusion. I deserve someone who loves me with one hundred and ten percent of his heart. The same way I have a feeling I’m going to come to love him.

  It seems like everyone is rooting for us tonight. I nearly do a double take when I see Yael … smiling, actually smiling, as she watches the two of us on the steps. It’s only a small one, a
nd she’s shaking her head all the while, but I catch her. Yael. Smiling.

  But eventually I turn my back on the crowd, because this has never been about them, and I’ve had enough of what everyone else has to think about us.

  Us.

  I grab Miller’s face and plant a final, solid kiss upon his lips. I hear the opening notes of “Cheap Thrills.”

  “Are we going to dance at this ball or what?” I ask him.

  He looks me over, studying me from top to bottom, hesitating. “Did you want to change first?” He grins. “I think Lizzie’s served her purpose here tonight. You don’t need to keep that on on my behalf.”

  “That’s okay,” I tell him, pulling on his hand and leading him down the steps to the party, tail making its way down the steps behind me, in time with the music. Because the party is probably already half over, and I refuse to waste another single minute. “I think I’m good.”

  epilogue

  The kitchen clock reads 4:34 a.m. when we stumble into Miller’s apartment, giggling and feeling punch drunk. I glance at it a second longer, because that can’t possibly be right. I don’t really know why I’m surprised. It was me who insisted on riding the log flume again and again and again. I just didn’t really want the night to end. Miller had to drag me from the park, and the only thing that worked was the promise I could snag his pajamas again and crash at his place. In that fantabulous bed.

  I perch on the counter and smile shyly at his back as he opens his refrigerator and pulls out a carton of eggs. My shy smile turns into a full-blown grin a moment later as he raises an eyebrow at me and makes a big, dramatic point of separating the whites from the yolks into two separate cups. For me.

  “Hey, you don’t have to work tomorrow, do you?” I ask. “Well, technically today, I guess.”

  “God, no.” He dumps my egg whites into a frying pan. “You?”

  “No. I pretty much plan to sleep all day. After breakfast, that is.”

  “Word. I have truly amazing blackout shades.” Then Miller nods toward a side cabinet. “Can you grab me the salt and pepper?”

  I nod, hopping down and heading toward the cabinet he’s pointed to. I retrieve the salt and pepper but stop in my tracks to take the canisters to Miller when I notice a familiar-looking jar sitting in the corner below the cabinets. I grab it at once, fist closing around it, wondering how exactly I might make it disappear.

  But of course Miller sees me … sees it, and calls me out, bemused smile on his face. “Care to fill me in? All Yael said to me when she handed this over was ‘That girl’s officially certifiable.’ I’ve been meaning to ask…”

  “In Yael’s defense, I didn’t give her much of an explanation, either.” I shake my head and wrap the jar in the hem of my T-shirt, putting it out of sight. “And trust me, you probably don’t want to know. Let’s just keep this bad boy tucked away and pretend it never happened, okay?”

  Miller looks like he’s struggling to keep from laughing, but I guess he decides to oblige me. He accepts the salt and pepper without another word.

  But as I stand there another minute, staring down at the jar of ashes in my hand, suddenly I have a burning desire to do one better than just tucking the ashes away. “On second thought…”

  I walk purposely toward his sink and turn on the water. I remove the lid from the jar. Then, with a deliberate motion, I empty the jar’s contents into the basin. I flip the switch, the garbage disposal coming to life with a whirring grind, obliterating my dreams and wishes instantaneously, taking them away forever.

  As it turns out, I’m not bothered in the slightest.

  These days, my life is more than a fairy tale, and I suppose it always was. I just didn’t realize reality is sometimes even more worthy of wishing for. Miller showed me that.

  We don’t get to write our own happily ever afters. Life takes care of that for us. And sometimes, from the very first page, you can tell your next chapter is going to be even better than anything you imagined in your wildest dreams.

  acknowledgments

  FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you thank you thank you to the fabulous Swoon leadership team, including Jean Feiwel, Lauren Scobell, and Holly West. Because of your vision and hard work, I get to do what I love. I remain forever grateful for this opportunity.

  To the honest and thoughtful reading and editing team that showed me some tough love regarding my first go-round with this story, thank you. Holly West, Emily Settle, and Hayley Jozwiak, I appreciate the lessons you taught me regarding constructive feedback … and moving forward toward something better. Without your nudging, Miller wouldn’t even exist. (I can’t … I just can’t.…)

  To the talented, funny, creative, and supportive network of Swoon authors who boost me and make me smile daily, I’m so glad we’re a part of the same team. Kim K., thank you for always being there, to listen, rant, and provide perspective. Beyond a fellow author, I’m lucky to call you my friend.

  Thank you, members of the Macmillan family, for all the thought, energy, and time you give to my work, for all the hundreds of ways you contribute to making it as polished and pretty as possible.

  Jen Raudenbush Sacks—more than twenty years ago, you used to rush off the bus, dial me up, and say, “Okay, go,” as my directive to begin telling you a story. Your support and love for this endeavor, decades later, means the world. Thank you, girl.

  Dad—Miller’s last name isn’t a coincidence; it’s a tribute. I couldn’t help but feel that his character embodied the genuine goodness I see in you. Thank you for this inspiration, in worlds fictional and nonfictional alike. Laine—thank you for being my number one fan, in every single undertaking of mine. Love you both.

  “Jamie from Sig Nu”—thank you so much for all the ways you support and ground me. Thank you for all the things you do, all the ways you work so hard, so that I have the opportunity to pursue my passion.

  Lu Bean and Christian J—I see the way your eyes light up and your attention is rapt, the way that the magic of fairy tales enchants you. Thank you, my loves, for always reminding me of the power of magic and the importance of it in our world.

  And lastly, thanks to you, Walt. You cultivated a world where magic and dreams are right there for us to reach out and grab. But more important, you were a living example of never giving up on one’s passion and vision. “First, think. Second, believe. Third, dream. And finally, dare.” Indeed.

  about the author

  Karole Cozzo, author of How to Say I Love You Out Loud and How to Keep Rolling After a Fall, lives outside of Philadelphia with her loving husband, unendingly exuberant daughter, and eternally pleasant son. She is a school psychologist by day and a lover of all things colorful and creative by night. Karole spends her free time drawing with her young artists-in-residence, making photo books, decorating her home, and of course, writing. You can sign up for email updates here.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Part 1: The End

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Part 2: The Beginning

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

 
; Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2017 by Karole Cozzo

  A Swoon Reads Book

  An Imprint of Feiwel and Friends and Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC

  175 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10010

  swoonreads.com

  All rights reserved.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

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  First trade hardcover edition 2017

  eBook edition May 2017

  eISBN 9781250127983