“This has been going on for decades,” I said, likeTry to catch up. “But that’s not a problem for you.”
“Because?”
“Because you’re in the same category. A cartoon prince ranks just as high.”
“As a dog?”
I gave him a look. “Count your blessings.”
“So. Which prince am I?”
“All of them,” I said.
“Allof them?”
“If I had to pick, I’d say Prince Eric fromThe Little Mermaid.”
This was so clearly not a touchpoint for Cooper.
So I googled it for him. “It’s the hair. Look! It’s kind of the same. And the blue eyes. And the—I don’t know…general dreaminess.”
Cooper looked back and forth between the image on my phone and the mirror, like he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to agree.
“The resemblance really is uncanny,” I said.
“Maybe we’re related.”
I gave him a look. “This is a huge compliment,” I said. “Do you know how they draw those princes?”
Cooper shook his head.
“They do like thirty different versions, and then they invite focus groups of women to come in and choose the most attractive parts of all of them—and then they combine everything into one man.”
Cooper looked baffled. “Huh.”
“See?” I said, pointing at Cooper’s swoopy hair. “Hair shouldn’t look this good in real life. How do you get it to do that?”
“I dated a girl who worked as a barber.”
“And those shoulders,” I went on, like he was being unreasonable. “And those relentless blue eyes. And you have a nose that doesn’t even look real. It’s like an illustrator drew it.”
Cooper listened closely while I gestured at everything.
“I don’t know how I never saw it before,” I said.
“In your defense,” Cooper said, “back in high school… I was more like Shaggy fromScooby-Doo.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“But then you moved across the ocean,” I said, finishing out the story of his life, “and did some push-ups, and dated a barber—andboom! You got handsome.”
“You really think I’m handsome?”
“Haven’t you been listening? I think you could’ve beendesigned by a focus group. That’s the kind of handsome you are. You could have any woman on this ship. Just select one at your leisure.”
“Any woman?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said. But then I had to backtrack: “Though—you don’t actually get to pick. Ashley has preselected a mate for you.”
