The audience laughs and Dylan nods at them. “Oh, yeah, these two got busy, didn’t they?”
Dear Lord, please make her stop. I really prefer tonothave people talking about me getting busy, but then again, I suppose if I didn’t want people talking about it, I bloody well shouldn’t have done it. Truth be told, I could use a few minutes alone to splash some water on my face, cool down a bit, and get my emotions in check. I knew being around Will would be difficult, but I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to be in such close proximity or just how excruciatingly intimate this entire evening would feel. Why does he have to be so bloody handsome and smell so intoxicatingly delicious? Why?
The combination has completely scrambled my brain, which is going to be a problem, because I’m about to be asked all sorts of questions that I’d rather not answer. And for some stupid reason, I don’t really feel like telling the world that we’re not together anymore. Somehow, letting them believe the lie that what they witnessed was true love seems kinder than letting them down.
“We’ve got a busy hour ahead of us,” Dylan says. “So let’s get started.”
The screens light up again, and they show footage of me coming over the hill all sweaty and soaked from rain and covered in mud with my teeth bared like I was heading into battle. We hear one of the reporters, shouting, “They’re here!” and me screaming for an ambulance. They freeze the video there (with my mouth open as wide as possible, obviously) and Dylan turns to me. “What were you thinking at that exact moment, Your Highness?”
I’d much rather tell you what I’m thinking at this exact moment.“Oh, so many things. Until we got to the top of that last hill, I wasn’t sure if we would make it, to be honest. I was almost out of strength and was terrified that because of the bad decisions I had made, Will was going to die. It was just such an emotional thing to bring him over that hill and see the ambulances and all the people there waiting to help us. It was probably the greatest relief of my life.”
“Lovely,” Dylan says. “Now, some people have suggested that you were likely on some type of steroids or performance-enhancing drug to allow you to do what you did. Do you care to comment on that remark?”
Will clears his throat. “I don’t think she should have to. That’s obviously a cruel fabrication, and quite frankly an affront to women everywhere to suggest that she wouldn’t have been able to step up and do what needed to be done in a life-and-death situation. It’s insulting really,” he says, then glances at me, his face blanching a little when he sees my deadpan expression. “Just like me speaking for her just now. Insulting.”
I smile and say, “I’ve never used any performance-enhancing drugs, unless you count caffeine, which frankly I could’ve used that day.”
The audience laughs again, and I feel a sense of pride for managing to say something witty for a change.
Dylan continues. “And Will, you have takena lotof heaton social media for falling in that ravine in the first place, and for allowing yourself to be rescued by a princess. Have people been especially unkind about it to you in person, and if so, do you think it’s because of who she is?”
“You know, in hindsight, I should’ve fought harder to stay in Wasapi, which would’ve brought both of us to safety, instead of allowing ourselves to end up in such a perilous situation. That would’ve been the smart thing to do, so, I definitely deserve the criticism there. Also, I let my frustration overtake my logic, which is always a huge mistake. Had I not, I would’ve been a lot more careful and I wouldn’t have fallen, thus putting Arabella in the situation she was in. Whether or not I’m taking extra heat because she’s a princess, I guess some people find that funny, but I don’t. Being a princess isn’t who she is. It’s the position she was born into, and those things are very different. People often underestimate her—I know I did. But Arabella is so many things—she’s intelligent and thoughtful and fun, and when she has to be, she’s absolutely as fierce and capable as anyone I’ve ever known.”
The audience claps, and I do my best not to think about what he’s just said about me. He almost sounded like he meant it—that he does really believe I’m strong. But we all know that’s a pile of horse pucks. Right?
“Okay,” Dylan says, walking to the front row. “We’ve got a question from your number one fan, Will, Hannah of theWill’s Wild Fangirlswebsite and blog.”
Dylan holds the mic in front of Hannah’s face while Hannah leans toward it. “This one is for Princess Arabella: Do you regret eating those berries because it seemed like a really stupid thing to do? Like, I never would have done that if I were with you, Will. You told her not to eat the berries without checking with you, but she did anyway, then she lied about it.”
Can I go home now?“Thank you for your very blunt question. Or was that a comment?” I say with a chuckle.
The audience laughs as well, and I have to say it feels nice that I’ve won them over.
Hannah looks positively livid while she waits for me to give her a proper answer.
I offer her an easy smile. “Of course I regret it. It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life because I could’ve died, but even worse than that, I put Will’s life in peril, and there is nothing acceptable about that. I also caused us to miss the deadline and cost him and my charity a substantial payout, which still bugs me to this day.”
Dylan moves the microphone back to her own mouth. “Would either of you be willing to do something like this again to see if you can redeem yourselves?”
Will says, “Absolutely,” while I say, “We’d have to see what the challenge was.”
“All right, after this commercial break, we’ll be back with the huge announcement you’ve all been waiting for!” Dylan says. “We’re also going to find out what’s in store next for these two lovebirds. You won’t want to miss that, so stay tuned.”
The red light goes on and Dylan makes a beeline for backstage while Will and I remain rooted in our seats. The audience starts to chat amongst themselves.
“Thank God that’s over,” I mutter
“Agreed,” Will says, tugging at his tie.
“What a horrific evening. The worst part is you’re really the only person I can cry to about all of this, but I can’t really do that, now can I?”
He pauses and stares at me for a second, his eyes filling with hope. “Do you need to cry? Are you upset?”
“I didn’t meancry. I meant complain. I’m fine. Honestly.”
“Right. Sure. I know you probably don’t care about my opinion, but you’re doing great up here. The audience loves you.”
“Not everyone,” I mutter, glancing at Hannah, who is glaring at me while she talks to the person next to her.
