“I was only trying to lighten the mood. I promise I won’t answer the phone.”
“Excellent.” He sets to work checking his fanny pack for his essentials—keys, hand sanitizer, wipes, and Tums (which, if I had to guess, I’d say he keeps an entire closet-full in his bedroom). He pauses for a moment. “Why do you want to stay here, anyway? Surely, you can afford a hotel room.”
“I’m saving up for a ring,” I say, feeling slightly sheepish admitting it out loud.
He looks up at me with a small grin. “So, she’s the one then? The woman who beat you into submission?”
“No, she’s the woman who opened my eyes to love.”
“Same thing.”
“Some day you’ll understand,” I say, giving him a purposefully condescending look.
He busies himself clipping on his fanny pack and pulling on his suit jacket. “Now, I must run. You look like shit, so get some sleep. The press junket starts Thursday, so you’ll need to be camera-ready by then.” He gestures to my chin. “Best go to a barber to get that mess off your face. I don’t want any beard shavings in my drain. You’re obviously overdue for a haircut as well.”
I give him a wide grin. “Yes, well, I ran out of time when I was off sailing the South Pacific and having an unbelievable amount of sex, so…”
Dwight rolls his eyes. “When you’re out shopping for a ring, go buy a few new suits. You’ll need to be well-dressed for your television appearances.”
“Righto. Excellent point.”
He purses his lips for a second. “You’re also going to want to watch the promos for the show. It’s got a very different… feel to it than the previous seasons.” He walks over to the front door and puts his hand on the knob. “I’ll be sending you a list of questions to help you get prepared for the interviews. We can go over them tonight when I get back.”
“I’ll be fine. This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“It’s your first one with the entire kingdom watching and wondering exactly what kind of man is trying to join the royal family.”
Urgh. That made my balls shrink up to the size of macadamia nuts. Too much info? Probably. Sorry about that. “You’ve forgotten I’ve handled much scarier situations—with ease, I might add.”
“I don’t think you understand what’s at stake here. Your entire career is on the line, obviously. But it’s so much more than that because your future wife’s reputation could also suffer irreparable harm, depending on what happened out there and what ABN decides to show.”
Now, they’re the size of raisins. My apologies. I can’t seem to stop talking about my balls. “Well, on that note, I think I’ll curl up in the fetal position until you get home.”
“Just don’t do it on the rug. I don’t want the oils from your skin getting into the fibers.”
“Now all I want to do is lie around naked on your rug.” I hold up one hand and add, “Obviously I’m kidding. What do you want for supper tonight, sweetie? Should I call your mum and find out what your favourite dishes are?”
Narrowing his eyes, he says, “No cooking. In fact, I’d prefer it if you went out to eat when I’m not here.”
“Sounds reasonable,” I mutter. Then raising my voice, I say, “Dwight, thank you. I really appreciate you letting me stay here. If I can ever repay you, just ask.”
“Oh, you’re going to repay me all right,” he says, opening the door. “I’ll give you a bill at the end of each week to offset the extra water, power, and food you consume.”
Welcome home…
4
Pajamas, Portion Control, and Having it All…
Arabella
“Welcome to margaritas and man-bash Monday,”I say as I step aside to let Tessa (the world’s greatest sister-in-law) and Nikki (her bestie and now one of mine) into my apartment. Tessa has her blonde hair up in a ponytail and she’s dressed in her Sponge Bob pyjamas, while Nikki, who is a hairdresser (sporting bright pink-to-purple ombre locks today) is in Juicy sweats and a tee. They walk in, and as I’m closing the door, I realize Bellford, my faithful bodyguard, heard me. I poke my head out into the hall and say, “Not you, obviously.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” he replies with a slight nod. Bellford is the best. He’s been my bodyguard since I was a teenager. He’s like a calming presence in my life and always allows me just enough space to give me the illusion of being independent whilst keeping me completely safe.
I shut the door and turn. “Let the games begin!”
“Yes, let’s! Four months without man-bash Mondays is way too long,” Nikki says, setting down two large paper bags on the dining table.
