Page 91 of How to Date a Prince

Blood drips from his forehead. His helmet is off, and the wind ruffles his hair. The cameras don’t show my face. He’s repeating my name, crying and begging for me to wake up. He’s so raw, oblivious to everyone and anything else as they try to draw him away to get checked out himself. It’s gut-wrenching to watch him.

And the video stops a few moments later.

When the lights come up again in the studio, I press my hands to my face, unable to draw a breath in properly. “Oh God. Shit—I’m sorry?—”

“Language—” Gisele says mildly in the background.

I tremble, watching Colin. We’re all quiet for a long moment. He gives me his handkerchief. I wipe my face.

“Difficult to watch,” Colin says finally. He looks shaken too.

“I—yes.” I can’t argue that. Nobody likes watching an accident, except Gisele. And apparently the British public, according to her, loves them on prime time and can’t get enough. And it occurs to me I don’t see Wilson in any of the footage. He didn’t come to help, by the looks of things. At least he didn’t trample us for our troubles.

My chest is too tight as Gisele takes the shot back frame by frame to focus on Thomas’ raw emotion on screen as he desperately tries to get me to come around.

I wince.

“What are you thinking?” Colin asks mildly.

“That… I’m lucky to be alive.”

“You are,” Colin acknowledges. “And Thomas too. A terrible accident.”

“Thomas means the world to me. Obviously. Before the accident. And watching what he does here… it’s hard. I don’t want to put him through hell like that again. And I have. And… I’m sorry. Please tell Thomas I’m sorry.”

“How does it feel to see him so upset?” Colin encourages.

“Like I’ve hurt the person that matters the most in the world to me,” I say softly. “And I wish I could find the right words to let him know how sorry I am. And how much I miss him. Our time together onRenaissance Manhad to be the best moment in my life, even with the disasters I seem to have found in each week. Despite that, because of the disasters, everything brought us together. And trying to find my way in my recovery without him has been so lonely.”

Colin is silent, watching me struggle. “Do you want to elaborate?”

“I…” I hold Colin’s gaze. “Thomas has always been public about who he is. About what he wants. About being gay. And I haven’t been, frankly. I’ve lived in secrets all my life.” I draw in a breath. “It’s past time for me to put secrets aside. I owe Thomas at least that honesty because I’ve ruined everything else we might have had. I’m gay too. And… I fell in love with Thomas. I shouldn’t have, because it’s impossible, and I did. I know my life’s even more complicated now, between that and a significant concussion I’m still recovering from, and I probably will be recovering from it for a long time. The truth is, I know I’m lucky to be alive. But it would be a lie to not acknowledge who I am, and my feelings, and how grateful I am for everything Thomas has done for me. I wish I have been the man he is. And, Thomas, I’m so sorry,” I murmur. “With all my heart.”

Colin glances over to Gisele, whose eyes gleam like she literally found gold. The cameras and mics have recorded every word. I’ve gone so far into a new script I could have landed on a romance reality show premiere rather thanRenaissance Man. He turns back to me.

“Thank you for sharing,” Colin says. “That’s taken great courage, to share what you have.”

“I hope Thomas forgives me for what I’ve said tonight, but I need to be honest. Even if it’s too late.”

“Do you have anything else to say to the rest of the cast?”

“That… I’m sorry for not being more of myself around them. And for not being easier to approach. I was lost in myself and, to be honest, my own unhappiness. I have been for a long time. It was hard for me to be present, often. And I want to thank those who did make me feel welcome, like Jax and David.”

Finally, we stop recording, and everyone breaks. The lights dim. I wipe my eyes again with Colin’s silk handkerchief.

“Are you alright, son?” he asks.

“As much as I can be these days,” I tell him honestly. I could blame the lights, which is fair, but it’s a lot more than a head injury that ails me. It’s that old chestnut, man versus himself, that I learned about in school. The whole man-versus-man tutorial inspired Gav to tackle me in the corridor at school as a super-helpful demonstration to our classmates, after which I cursed him out, which led to a week’s detention for us to reflect on gentlemanlike conduct. “You can use whatever you like on the show. You can show the accident. You can share what I said, if you think that’s useful.”

“Oh, I’m sure Gisele would love to, believe me,” he assures me. “Would you consider coming to the final screening event in the fall? November, I believe.”

I relent. “Alright. I’ll consider it.”

“We’ll have the team send you details. I realize now we’ve kept you for a couple of hours. Thank you so much for your time, Your Royal Highness.”

“My pleasure.”

“And for the record, I think you’re a brilliant modernRenaissance Man. Never mind not completing all the challenges.”

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