Royally Matched
Page 62

Slowly, I move closer to her. “What does that mean, exactly?”
She crosses her arms, elbows pointing. “It means Sarah Von Titebottum signed a release—any footage we have of her is ours to use however we like. And I have a lot of it. I could tell a very interesting story about little Sarah. How she schemed and connived her way into the show as her sister’s assistant, even though we didn’t want her. How she seduced and stole you, not just from the other girls but from her own sister. You’d be amazed at the picture that a little editing and some background music can paint. The other girls will back me up—at least some of them—and by the time I’m done, anyone who watches will think Sarah is a nasty, selfish, vapid, backstabbing bitch.”
My jaw clenches tight enough to snap. “But none of that is true.”
Vanessa shrugs. “This is reality TV, Henry. What does truth have to do with it?”
My palms go damp and anger pricks under my skin like electric sparks.
Vanessa paces the room, then looks at the ceiling and speaks almost philosophically. “I don’t think that would go over well with your people, if you actually decide to marry her. And if you don’t, the tabloids will have a field day. Which will probably exacerbate her ‘problem’—those spells she has.” She shakes her head. “It would be very difficult for her.”
Then she slides forward, her voice lightening. “Or, you can finish the last two episodes.” She gestures toward the boat. “A few hours on the boat with Laura, dinner in front of the fireplace with Cordelia, and then the finale. No one will be surprised if, after the finale, you part ways amicably with whoever gets the diamond tiara—it happens more often than not in this business. You’ll honor the agreements you signed, and we both get what we want. And then, you and Sarah will be free to ride off into the sunset. Happy endings all around.”
My fists clench with frustration, the way a cornered animal coils before striking. But more than that, there’s an overwhelming drive to keep Sarah safe. To protect her—always—at any cost, especially from the problems I’ve brought on myself. I don’t want anyone to suffer because of my shitty choices—not Nicholas or Granny or Wessco—but especially not her.
Never her.
“So . . . what’s it gonna be, Your Highness?”
Two hours later, I’m on the boat, out on the water with Laura. We sit at a perfectly set table, having brunch with the cameras rolling. I tried calling Sarah—I keep trying—but the mobile reception is rubbish. Before we set off, I told Vanessa to explain, to tell Sarah that I’ll speak to her as soon as I’m back this evening. But I trust Vanessa as much as I’d trust a boa constrictor that promises to play nice with a kitten.
“What are you doing here, Henry?”
I sip my orange juice and Champagne, wishing for something stronger. Because this all feels so fucking wrong. “What do you mean? I’m having brunch with you.”
Laura’s head tilts and her lips curve with sympathy.
“But you’re in love with Sarah.”
I glance sharply at the camera. We’re miked, and this isn’t part of the script. It’s not the way the show is supposed to play out and I don’t know if it will end up blowing back on Sarah.
“I . . .”
“I’ve been in love, Henry. I know what it looks like.”
“It’s complicated.”
Laura’s face shines with kindness and understanding. “No, it’s the simplest thing in the world. The sky is blue, the earth is round . . . Henry loves Sarah. Isn’t that right?”
And it finally hits me what she’s doing. From the beginning this was Vanessa’s show—the story she wanted to tell. The rest of us were just pieces on the chessboard. But Laura is giving it back to me. Giving me the chance to tell the story—our story, Sarah’s and mine—even if just this once. They might edit it out, but at least it will be said.
“Yes. I love her.”
Laura’s eyes well with tears. “Good.”
I cover her hands with mine. “I’m sorry.” And I don’t even know what I’m apologizing for.
She wipes under her eyes, then waves me off. “Don’t be silly, I’ll be okay.”
“Yes, you will be.” And for the first time since this whole thing began, I forget all about the cameras—and it’s just me and a friend, chatting. “One day, you’re going to find a man who worships the ground you walk on, who makes you so happy. He’s out there, right now somewhere, just waiting to meet you.”
She shrugs. “I had that. Maybe we only get it once.”
I squeeze her hands. “Horseshit.” I think of Sarah and all she’s been through, how strong she is, how she makes her own happiness. “Sometimes life is unfair, Laura. But you can’t give up. You need to just keep moving forward and happiness will find you again. I believe that.”
She smiles. And then a gust of wind blows hits us, knocking the flowers and glasses over on the table.
“We’ll have to move this inside,” the cameraman tells us.
The cameras get lowered and Laura and I stand up. Without warning, the boat tilts and Laura crashes into my chest. I hold onto her, bracing my back against the outer wall of the cabin to keep from falling over.
She looks up into my eyes. “Henry . . .”
Her expression is blank and her face pale. She swallows hard. “Henry, I . . .”