Page 47 of How to Date a Prince (Being Royal #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six

I n fact, the fuss doesn’t die down anytime soon. Instead, the fuss amplifies to the point I end up doing internet searches on myself.

It’s bad.

Which is why I’m at my desk, sheet of paper in hand.

It’s an itinerary from the Royal Family’s press team.

I have two exclusive interviews lined up, an alarming one-hour-long interview with one of the top journalists in the country, the other with Vanity Fair , which is an interesting choice.

It’s workable, possibly. And I get free rein on the wardrobe, a definite win.

For the next couple of weeks, I stay at the palace. My rehab team comes to me, which I suppose is the benefit of being a prince. Then again, if I wasn’t a prince, no one would care if I did a header off a horse, except for my family and friends.

The interviewers come to the palace too.

The TV interview is exhausting, leaving my head thudding hard after the bright lights and stress, even with the prepared list of approved questions ahead of time.

It’s like an hour-long confessional, where I prove to everyone I can still mostly string words together, show I still have my teeth, and give the public some hope for the future of the monarchy, according to my father.

And to assure the public that I’m recovering well.

“There’s a lot of sympathy for you, Auggie,” Katie agrees.

“People are worried. You won their hearts with opening up about your mum and wowing everyone with your sculpting skills. Then you shocked everyone with the accident. If they weren’t curious about you before, they’re frantic now.

I can see why your father wants you to do a couple of interviews. ”

Weary, I rub my face. We’re at her flat, a rare outing for me, with extra security.

Alyse stands sentry at the door, the rest of the detail strategically around the building.

It’s mid-October, and we’re halfway through the Renaissance Man episodes.

The fourth episode included a follow-up segment with the reactions of the remaining cast following my accident, which I haven’t seen before.

Thomas is there, looking a little worse for wear, and he breaks my heart.

He looks haunted. Wrecked, even.

“Thomas, you had a unique perspective during the accident,” Colin says with a straight face. They sit in a grand reception room on a pair of paisley overstuffed armchairs facing each other at the country house. “Tell us what happened.”

Katie’s watching the episode again with me. I’m holding my wineglass nearly to the point of white-knuckling it. I hold my breath. Trust Colin to be the master of understatement.

“We were racing. Everyone was very close together. And my horse spooked. Everything happened so quickly after that. It was a blur. I was down… Auggie was down…” Thomas shakes his head, his face draining of color.

My guts wrench.

Colin considers Thomas. “And you were concerned for Auggie.”

“Concerned doesn’t even come close. Terrified.

” He falters, looking down. “I thought he was dead. And I would do anything to bring him back. But there was some miracle, and I found a pulse, and I made sure he was breathing. I don’t remember too much after that.

Going to the hospital, recovering. I saw stars for a moment, but it was nothing like what he did to save me. ”

“And you saw Auggie after the accident.”

He holds Colin’s gaze. “Yes, I did.”

My heart’s thudding away, barely contained in my chest.

“Do you have anything you would like to say about that?”

Thomas shifts, considering. He looks disoriented. Dazed, even. He fidgets with the cuff of his shirt. “It was hard to see Auggie injured,” he said finally. “But I was also so relieved to see him in the days after because he was still himself. It gave me hope. It still does.”

My response is visceral. I barely breathe, hyperfocused. And the idea I gave Thomas hope lifts me, despite everything. Something in me soars, despite feeling lost.

“And to remind our viewers about last week’s results,” Colin says, “we declared Auggie and Thomas the tied winners of the week three Sporting challenge, which left them tied in the overall standings as well. Of course, given His Royal Highness’ injuries, he withdrew from the show.

As a result, no one else was sent home that week.

We all wish the prince a speedy recovery, and we do miss him wholeheartedly on Renaissance Man . ”

I have to say I’m privately smug when Wilson comes across like the arse he is in the recap.

He takes no responsibility for crowding us.

“I mean, yeah, it was a bad accident. But there wouldn’t be as much fuss if it was me injured rather than a prince.

He’s only famous for having been born. Not because he’s done anything useful or cool.

Nearly breaking his neck doesn’t count. It’s a shame he was sent off before we could see what he could actually do.

And if it weren’t for sympathy points from the judges, I’d be further ahead in the competition. ”

“I don’t like him,” Katie says flatly, reaching over to squeeze my hand.

“At least they’ve captured his true nature,” I say wryly. “Authentic Wilson. And—fact—I did break my neck. I suppose that’s not public knowledge.”

“God, Auggie. I hope he loses soundly.”

“I think he makes an excellent villain, and people will love to hate him to the end,” I predict over a handful of crisps like they’re runes. “Fantastic for ratings.”

“Ugh.” Katie shakes her head. “I hope you’re wrong.”

I shrug and crunch down on the pleasingly salty crisps.

She pauses, turning to me, hugging a plush cushion. “Let’s talk about Thomas Golden.”

I wilt, sagging back into the overstuffed sofa. I pretend to hide under the blanket. Katie peers at me.

“You haven’t spoken about him. What happened with him after we talked that first weekend on the show? I haven’t pressed because you haven’t been well, but I think you’re well enough now to face my interrogation, prince boy.”

My face warms. I twist my fingers in the knit blanket. I glance away at a painting of a dead ancestor at least two centuries gone. The lucky arsehole dressed more flamboyantly than I can. “Err?—”

“Before you try to say nothing, it was definitely something,” Katie says archly. “We all know that there was something between you two. Auggie, I’m your best friend in the world. If you can’t talk to me, who else can you talk to?”

I sigh. She has a point. And I want to be more open.

Because being closed off certainly hasn’t done me any favors.

“Okay. You’re right. It’s—you know how it is, Katie.

I’m born to rule. He’s born to, you know, entrepreneur and influence, and obviously, he’s no fan of the monarchy either.

We don’t have a compatible path. Plus, there’s the whole marriageable woman situation, in case you’ve forgotten. My father’s on a mission.”

“How did your date with Lady Laura go?” Katie asks pointedly. I did tell her about that.

“Ugh.”

“Which means the pretending to be straight plan is right out the window. You’re miserable at the very idea of marrying a woman.

And if you did, that woman ought to be me.

” Her eyes sparkle, but she twists the rings on her fingers.

My gut twinges because I know she’s covering for the heartache I’ve left her with.

“I’m sorry, Katie…”

Katie waves me off. “Which means… you need to find a new path. And if Thomas matters to you, you need to find a way to at least try.”

“I did…”

“How?”

I cough, blushing as I think of the tell-all confessional I recorded a few weeks ago. “He knows how I feel. And—” My lips twist. “He has an influencer boyfriend now. What’s the point?” I ask, pulling up Instagram on my phone so she can see Adam for herself as proof.

In one of the latest photos, he’s draped himself over Thomas like an accessory, so it’s impossible to deny. For his part, Thomas is missing the spark in his eyes. He leans into Adam, but he doesn’t look quite joyful.

Katie critically examines the photo, then swipes through a few. “Rebound,” she diagnoses after a couple of minutes of close study.

My eyebrows lift. “You get that from these photos?” I never counted on her forensic analysis skills before.

“Not only from the photos. Because I know how incredible you are, and trying to follow up after you would be a big gap. Trust me. I know.”

I slump slightly. I feel wretched at the reminder. “I’m so sorry.”

She touches my cheek. “But listen. If anything, you owe me one. Try reaching out to him. That’s how you can make it up to me. By living your life.”

“I did. We messaged on the night the show aired the accident.”

“And?”

“And… all roads lead to Adam? But aside from that, Thomas was wonderful, of course. Worried, like everyone else, about me. Apparently, he was in London.”

“Very interesting. Maybe he’s still in London.” She gives me a meaningful look. “Waiting for you.”

I shake my head a bit too quickly. My brain sloshes around into some kind of Thomas-related blur.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I don’t think he’s waiting for me.

If anything, it’s waiting for Renaissance Man .

Or he’s probably planning to shut down the monarchy with his father, who knows, as the finale.

He said he was here for business, after all. ”

“No. Try again. Well, he’s not here for Adam, because Adam’s an American. So perhaps Adam’s at home.”

“It didn’t sound like it the other week when we spoke. Adam was in London too. With Thomas. Obviously.”

“You spoke?” Her eyebrows lift at the confession. She leans in, frowning. “You said you messaged.”

“It started as messages. Then we spoke.”

“Good,” she says, pleased. “Keep going down that vein.”

“You’re… incorrigible. We’re planning to see each other. If we can.” I wave a hand. “I mean, I’ll clear everything to make it happen. He could change his mind, though, think better of it?—”

She gawps. “Auggie! Weren’t you going to tell me?”

“Yes. It’s just… a lot to process. Anticipating seeing him, after everything. There’s a lot on the line. And obviously, we need to work out security arrangements to meet away from everyone.”

“I’m glad you’re seeing each other.” Katie squeezes my hand.

“Me too. It’ll be better in person,” I offer, searching her eyes. “Even if it’s hard since he’s moved on. But I must tell him how I feel, in person. Even… even if he’s moved on.” I falter. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell him.”

And Katie gives me a warm hug. I bury my face in her shoulder, holding on to her, seeking comfort. I’m so grateful to have her on my side again.

Which is how, between the interview for Vanity Fair and the photo shoot, I text Thomas again to ask if he’s still in London to finalize plans to see each other. And he says yes, and we’re still on to meet.

Thomas’ words come back to me as I drowse. “If something matters to you, you have to fight for what you want.”

And I want Thomas, with all my heart.