The Shippers(51)

“Not a cartoon like SpongeBob. A sexy cartoon.”

“Pretty sure there’s no such thing.”

“Of course there is. It’s like when you watch Lady and the Tramp, and you’re kind of attracted to the Tramp—”

Cooper squinted at me, like Please be kidding.

“—and you’re like, ‘Nothing about this is right, but the heart wants what it wants’?” I pushed on. “You’re that kind of cartoon.”

“I didn’t know you were attracted to cartoon dogs.”

His eyes were mocking, so I dug in harder. “Cartoon foxes, too. Remember Robin Hood?”

“That’s why you had that poster in your room?”

“Yep.”

“Of all the Robin Hoods, that’s your choice? Not Sean Connery, or Kevin Costner, or Russell Crowe?”

“I think I’m in the majority on this.”

He frowned doubtfully. “Live human men are losing out to cartoon dogs and foxes?”

“This has been going on for decades,” I said, like Try 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.

“All of them?”

“If I had to pick, I’d say Prince Eric from The 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 from Scooby-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—and boom! You got handsome.”

“You really think I’m handsome?”

“Haven’t you been listening? I think you could’ve been designed 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.”

Cooper frowned. “Can Ashley be overruled?”

“Not usually,” I said. “Why? Did you have someone else in mind?”

“No.”

“Because I support you,” I went on. “Fight back! Bridesmaid Two is the worst.”

Then I turned him back toward the mirror and gestured at his—everything. “All this,” I said, “should not be wasted on a basic bridesmaid.”

Cooper considered his new cartoon-based handsomeness.

I considered it, too. “You need to know this about yourself, Cooper,” I said. “Time has been good to you.”

“You really think I look like a Disney prince?”

“I don’t think it. It’s just a fact.”

“Except I’m better than a Disney prince,” Cooper said then.

“Wow. Bold statement. Okay. Why is that?”

Cooper shrugged. “Because I’m real.”



* * *



ON THE WALK to dinner, we ran into Finn, of all people, in the hallway.

Finn greeted Cooper with “Coooop!” and a loud slap on the shoulder. Then he turned to me and said, “Josephine, right?”

“JoJo,” I corrected while nodding, like Exactly right.

Then Finn went on like he was practicing for a quiz. “Maid of honor. Math genius. The girl who fell out of our oak tree.”

“Yes!” I said, raising my hand for a high five. “Nice job!”

May I just point out that we had lived across the street from each other since birth?