you have a puppy??? xx
It’s almost funny how easily this distracts her, and I take a picture of the puppy and send it to her. Seconds later, Rosie replies with a string of heart and rainbow emojis.
Rosie
what’s the name??? xx
Evan
She doesn’t have one yet.
Rosie
you have to give her one!! xx
Evan
Can’t. She’s Constance’s.
Rosie
i won’t tell if you won’t xx what are her parents called??
Evan
Not sure. All of Constance’s dogs are named after shades of blue. Zaffre, Indigo, Cobalt, Sapphire.
Rosie
jade??? lapis??? azure??? omg TIFFANY!! xxx
I wrinkle my nose. The thought of using Constance’s naming convention makes my skin crawl, even more than naming the puppy does. I don’t want to create a bond that will inevitably break when it’s time to leave Balmoral, just like every other relationship in my life, and I know for damn sure I can’t take another loss right now. But I’m also positive Rosie won’t let up until I give her a name, and Tiffany is not it.
Fine. Constance likes the color blue, and I like nothing more than to annoy her.
Evan
Poppy.
Rosie
a flower name! love it!!! xxx welcome to the family, poppy bright!!
I don’t know why this makes me tear up, but it does, and all I want is to tell Kit about it. About Rosie texting, about the puppy’s name, about how much I miss him—every bit of it. Instead,I set my phone down, ready to call it a night, but only a minute later, it buzzes again.
Rosie
thank you, by the way…i know i’m probably the last person you want to hear this from, but thank you for trying. even if ben gets away again, what you and kit did was really, really brave, and i’m so proud of you. i hope one day we can be friends (and snickers and poppy, too!!) xxxxx
I sniff and wipe my eyes with my shirt. There are a dozen things I could say in return—that I didn’t do it for her. That I would love for her dog, Snickers, and Poppy to be friends, even though I’m not sure she and I ever could be. That Maisie won’t forgive her no matter how close she is with me. That I’m sorry we didn’t take Ben down, too.
Instead, I press the text long enough to heart it, and leave it at that. It’s the only thing that doesn’t feel like a betrayal of Maisie, Kit, or myself.
—
Somehow, I surviveuntil we’re only twenty-four hours away from the live interview.
Doyle and his team spend the entire day going over the preselected questions with me, making sure I have my answers down and know exactly what information is still classified. No mention of Ben, but I’m encouraged to talk about my experience with Guy Fawkes, whose real full name I still don’t know. Dylan is, to my deep dismay, still on the loose, and any details about his identity are strictly off-limits, although I’mwelcome to refer to him as aviolent fanatic of the ABRwhen it comes to my supposed kidnapping—which I’m also encouraged to play up, especially with my bruised jaw and healing lip still obvious.
