Royally Wild (Crazy Royal Love Romantic Comedy Book 2)

by Melanie Summers

  I watch him for another few seconds, and finally, he glances at me. I smile at him and mouth, “Go for it,” then turn and gesture to Bellford that it’s time to leave. I force myself to walk out without turning back for one last look.

  I mean, technically I can see him whenever I want since there are literally hundreds of videos and photos of him all over the bloody internet.

  I shouldn’t look, but I will.

  31

  Diamonds, Goose Down, and Busy Body Brothers

  Will

  One Month Later

  “Did you start packing yet?” Harrison asks. I’m in my bedroom at Dwight’s and I have him on speaker phone.

  “Just started,” I say, pulling my suitcase out of the closet.

  “How have you been?” he asks. He’s still got that irritating ‘I’m worried about you since you lost the love of your life’ tone happening and no matter what I say, he won’t believe that I’m fine, which I am.

  “Great. I’m really excited about the show—I’ve been working out hard and studying up on the terrain, as well as the flora and fauna of Greenland. I’ve got a great partner, so all in all, it seems like we’re in a good position to take this thing.”

  “Good for you, Will. It’s almost like everything’s going your way these days.”

  “Yup,” I say, dumping out the bags from my shopping spree earlier this afternoon onto my bed. I start ripping the tags off with my teeth, even though I know you’re not meant to do that. “I’ve stocked up on thermal underwear and got myself a Canadian goose down coat. The only thing I wish is that we weren’t filming in such a cold climate.”

  “Is that the only thing you wish?” he asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, inquiring minds want to know.”

  “Yeah, Emma and Rosy are both pissed that you aren’t returning their calls.”

  “If they want me to return their calls, they’re going to have to stop asking me about Arabella.”

  “I’ll let them know. In the meantime, they’ve given me a list of questions for you since they knew you’d answer my call.”

  “Seriously?” I say, starting to roll my new wool socks into tight little balls and tossing them into my suitcase.

  “Hey, dude, you really can’t blame me. Unlike you, I can’t ignore them due to proximity,” Harrison says. “Now, I’m supposed to find out if you’ve heard from her at all.”

  “Nope. Not since she snuck out after the finale.”

  “Okay, so I imagine they’ll have a follow-up question for that, which is whether you’ve tried to reach out to her.”

  “Tell them I haven’t,” I say, opening the top drawer of the dresser. “Let me guess—the next question is going to be why and the answer to that would be because it’s over and that’s that. The truth is, mate, she was right about us. We are too different, and we really don’t want the same things in life.”

  “Too…different…same things in life,” he says slowly.

  “Are you taking notes?”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No, I’d tell them I couldn’t reach you. Now, how’s my little Clara Bear doing? Can I talk to her so she doesn’t forget her uncle?”

  “She’s not here. It’s Emma’s day off, so she and Pierce took her to the zoo. I think he’s trying to talk her into having a child so he’s hoping heartwarming experiences with my daughter will do the trick.”

  “You should tell him that’s not how babies are made.”

  Harrison laughs. “I’ll be sure to do that. Now the next question is from Rosy: Did you finally take the ring back because if you didn’t, by God, why haven’t you done that yet? You paid a small fortune for that thing and she’d feel a lot better if you were to have spent that money on a down payment on a house on her street. I guess one just came on the market that she wants to show you.”

  Now it’s my turn to laugh. “Really? What’s the house like?”

  “You’re avoiding the question, Will, which leads me to believe you have not, in fact taken back that five-carat rock.”

  “I forgot. I’ve just been so busy preparing for the show.”

  “Freud would have something to say about that,” Harrison says. “Actually, you wouldn’t even need somebody with a psychiatry degree to have something to say about that. Your average house cat could probably figure out that you’re still holding out hope.”

  “Well, your average house cat would be wrong because I’ve only had a month to prepare for the biggest challenge of my entire life and the possibility of winning a million freaking dollars, Harrison.”

  “You could buy a lot of rings with that.”

  “Not doing that again. Once is enough for this guy.” Clearing my throat, I say, “Okay, I really have to run because my flight leaves in two hours, and I promised Dwight I’d wash and dry my sheets and towels and put the bed back together before I left.”

  “Okay, last question, then I’ll let you go,” he says. “Also, from Rosy: Who’s this Amanda woman and is she interested in getting married and having babies with you?”

  “Amanda is my partner on the show and nothing more. She has a great life back in the US that she’ll be returning to as soon as this whole thing is over. She and I are currently, and will remain, strictly professional.”

  “Okay, she’s going to want to press the issue a little,” Harrison says. “And if I don’t point out that you said the exact same thing about Arabella, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  “I was lying about Arabella. But with Amanda, it’s true. She’s a really nice person, but she’s just not the one for me.”

  “Okay, follow-up to the follow-up,” Harrison says with a sigh. “Is that because Arabella is the right one for you?”

  Sighing, I say, “No, it’s because there is absolutely no spark there whatsoever. She really feels more like a younger version of Emma to me. And also, if you refer to my earlier answer about never wanting to go down that road again, it will hopefully help resolve all curiosity on everybody’s behalf.” I take the ring box out of my drawer and open it, staring at it for a moment. Yup, still hurts. “Okay, I really gotta run. I’m going to try to come home as soon as we’re done filming, but unfortunately, with the contract I’m under, it’s not really up to me. If they need me to come back to Avonia first, then that’s what I’ll have to do. But make sure you give everybody there a hug from me and tell them all I miss them because I do.”

  “Okay, I’ll pass the message on,” Harrison says. “Stay safe out there, okay, little bro?”

  “Will do.”

  “You better, because you won’t have a princess with you to rescue your sorry arse.”

  “Just had to get that last shot in, eh?”

  “Sorry, couldn’t help it. But seriously, take care.”

  I finish packing, then pick up the last thing left on the bed—the ring box. Dammit. What do I do with that? It’s not like I can bring it with me. I take it to the kitchen and write a note for Dwight, who is up in Didsbury visiting his mum right now.

  Dear Dwight,

  Thanks for letting me stay. It’s been a blast. Sorry about eating all your ice cream and drinking all your bourbon. I need you to hang onto the ring for me since I ran out of time to take it back. You’ll find it behind the ice cream carton in the freezer.

  Catch you soon,

  Your favourite roommate,

  Will

  32

  Wherever You Are in Life, Pretend It’s Exactly Where You Want to Be…

  Arabella

  ABN Evening News with Giles Bigly

  “Good evening, I’m Giles Bigly, and welcome to ABN’s Evening News. Our top story this Saturday, November fifteenth, comes to us from Valcourt Palace, where preparations for the Order of Avonia Gala are under way. The annual event takes place tonight at eight p.m., where seven new inductees will be granted the Order of Avonia. We’ll go live there in just a bit, but first, over to former news anchor Veronica Platt, who has agreed to be our woman on t
he street tonight while we’re looking for a replacement for yours truly. Veronica is joining us live from the Valcourt Airport where, in roughly one hour, she and the cast and crew of The World’s Best Survivor Challenge will be boarding a flight to Greenland. Veronica, tell us what’s going on.”

  Veronica stands in front of the sliding doors at the airport next to her suitcase, holding a microphone. “Oh, now I get it. That really is irritating when the anchor tells the entire story.”

  “Isn’t it?” Giles asks with a bright smile.

  “Quite. Anyway, it’s going to be a crazy fun night for the cast and crew of The World’s Best Survivor Challenge. We’ve chartered a flight to take everybody over, and we’ll be filming as our competitors get to know each other. There should be lots of trash talk and jockeying to see who’s the top dog. But I doubt anyone will be getting much sleep.”

  The camera pans to a group of people all talking excitedly at the gate. “As you can see, all the greats are here—Survivorman himself, Les Stroud, Bear Grylls, Laura Zerra and E.J. “Skullcrusher” Snyder from Discovery Channel’s Naked and Afraid. We also have Mykel Hawke, Amanda Jenkins, and of course, ABN’s own Will Banks, who is favoured to take the million-dollar prize along with Amanda.”

  “I don’t know,” Giles says, shaking his head. “I have to say, my money’s on Les Stroud for this one. He grew up in Canada, and Will just doesn’t have the experience to best him in a cold climate.”

  “Well, only time will tell, Giles,” Veronica says. “But I, for one, am rooting for our homegrown hero.”

  “I’m sure you are,” Giles answers. “Thanks for that fascinating bit of journalism, Veronica, and enjoy your stay in Greenland. I hope you packed your parka. I heard it’s minus fifteen degrees Celsius there at the moment.”

  Veronica’s smile morphs into a look of dread, complete with flared nostrils and dead eyes. “It’ll be grand, I’m sure.”

  “Why wouldn’t it be? Well, you have fun. I’ll just be right here in this warm studio behind this solid desk. We’ll be back after a word from our sponsors.”

  The feed cuts and a commercial for inflatable wizarding hats for cats starts up.

  “Ugh, why did you let me watch that?” I ask Nikki, who is putting the finishing touches on my hair. We’ve opted for a rose-shaped braided bun with a few loose pieces to frame my face.

  “You’re the one that put it on,” she says, her words muffled slightly by the bobby pin between her teeth. “But I’m not sorry we saw it. That’s one Bear I’d hibernate with.”

  “Take it from me—the last thing you want is some outdoorsy survival guy. Sure, they seem all dangerous and exciting, but they’re not exactly marriage material.”

  “Who said anything about marriage? I’d settle for a few months of caveman sex,” she says, taking the straight section of hair near my cheek and rolling it up with the curling iron.

  “Not worth it,” I answer. “You’d end up getting too attached, and, if you’re not careful, you’ll end up with five kids to look after while he’s off swinging from vines in the Amazon.”

  Nikki carefully pulls the iron out of my hair and checks to make sure it’s got just enough bounce. “Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”

  “You, obviously,” I say. “I already know this by heart.”

  “Done,” she says, stepping back and smiling at me in the mirror.

  I look at my reflection and see a very sophisticated, wildly unhappy princess. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

  “Any time,” Nikki says, starting to pack up her things. “Do you need any help with your dress, because if not, I thought I’d swing by Tessa and Arthur’s and see if Xavier’s still there.”

  Chuckling, I tell her I’m fine and to have fun.

  But as soon as she leaves, that awful feeling overtakes me again—it’s a blend of utter emptiness mixed with absolute restlessness that I’m filled with each evening. So typical—I’m fine during the day when my mind is busy with the Equal Everywhere Campaign. Anyway, I am happy with my life. Really, I am. Mostly when I’m around other people doing things that make me proud. But when I allow myself any time to think at all, I have to face the gaping hole where my heart should be.

  I’ve tried everything, but nothing works. Actually, I’ve only tried two things. I did a PGX workout once (which was terribly painful). The rest of the time, I’ve gone with calling down to the kitchen for various night snacks—burgers, fries and milkshakes, pizza, chocolate torte, and the odd pecan tarts. Hmm…I could go for one of each right now, because I am absolutely miserable to be dressing up in an elegant gown to attend what could be a very romantic autumn ball with Gran as my date. I thought my days of dating my grandmother were over.

  That came out wrong. Attending formal—oh, you know what I meant.

  Anyway, thanks to stupid Giles Bigly, I’m now keenly aware that Will is about to board a plane on which at least half of the passengers will want to shag him. Not that it’s any of my business. He’s off to have another adventure and I’m off to do exactly what I’ve always done, even if the royal reins have been loosened and I’m starting to be known as someone with enough grit that, instead of people comparing me to my mother, they’re comparing me to my feisty gran.

  But the crap thing about getting exactly what you want is that if you let go of the person you want to share it with, it doesn’t seem to matter that much. And I know logically I did the right thing for both of us by ending it with Will. He’s now able to be free and follow his dreams, and I’m able to know without a doubt that I have the strength to stand up for myself and hear my own voice. Only that voice keeps telling me I missed out on my one chance for a life with the man I love, and that if only I hadn’t acted so rashly and if I’d trusted my strength, I could have made it work. But it’s too late because he’s probably boarding the flight now and I’m about to squeeze into this gown (and I mean squeeze because the late-night junk food fests aren’t nearly as good for the waistline as late-night shag fests), plaster a fake smile on my face, and pretend I’m happy.

  Oh, whatever, you big baby. Get on with it.

  I trudge over to my dressing room and go in search of my boring beige heels. No one will see them and the truth is, they’re probably a lot more comfortable than some gorgeous four-inch Valentino Garavani pumps.

  Ah, there they are, Old Beigeys, waiting for me on the shelf, like the faithful shoes they are. Nothing wild or scary about them. Just nice fitting and dependable, like the sort of man I should find. Maybe I should see if the Earl of Wemberly is coming. He may have gotten his breath fixed by now after he found out what I said about him on the telly.

  Maybe not.

  33

  Would You Rather…

  Will

  “Okay, people!” Dylan calls. “It’s time to board the party plane! Whoops, I mean the plane full of the world’s best survivors.”

  The group starts to pick up their bags and file toward the ramp, excitedly chatting to each other. I should be more thrilled than I am. I just finished having a ‘would you rather’ conversation with E.J. Snyder and Les Stroud about which would be less appealing: being stranded in Antarctica with Paris Hilton or being dropped into a well filled with Arizona bark scorpions. Les went with the scorpions. He’s not wrong.

  I am happy, but not in the way I thought I’d be. There’s this underlying sense of blah that I cannot shake, no matter how hard I work out or how fast I run.

  I end up in line next to Veronica and Dylan. “Hi, Veronica, Dylan,” I say with a polite smile.

  “Hi,” Veronica says.

  Dylan leans in. “I was just saying to Veronica that if ever I’m going to be on a plane that crashes, this would be the one because it’s filled with incredible people who can bring us all to safety.”

  “Sure, unless the plane explodes in the air,” I say casually. “Then there’s really not much anyone could do.”

  “Well, that was a little macabre,” Dylan says, laughing and hitt
ing me on the chest. “Are you the dark horse in the race?”

  “I have no idea what that means,” I say. Turning to Veronica, I smile. “Are you excited to be starting out on your new venture?”

  “Oh my God, yes,” she says. “If I were still on the news desk, I’d be covering that boring gala at the palace tonight. I bet you’re not too sad to be missing that, are you?”

  That’s a loaded question. How do I answer that one? “Yeah, I’m not exactly a suit and tie kind of guy.”

  “Was Arabella upset that you aren’t going with her?”

  “Oh, you know her, she’s such a trouper. Not one to complain.” I suppose at some point, I should stop pretending we’re still a couple, but to be honest, if people assume she and I are still together, it’ll make this trip a whole lot easier. The last thing I need is any sort of romantic anything to mess things up. Clearly, I don’t make good decisions when I’m in love.

  “I heard through the grapevine that Arabella’s going with her gran,” Veronica says. “Those two are so sweet together, don’t you think?”

  “Very.”

  We step through the door of the plane and are greeted by the flight crew, who are all lined up, looking slightly wary of the excited energy boarding the aircraft.

  “Okay, people!” Dylan yells. “You will see that we’ve placed pieces of paper with your names on the seats. You are not allowed to sit near your partner on the flight because we don’t want you strategizing before we get there. Find your name and take your seat so we can get going!”