“That’s it,” the tech whispered to me, “you’re on!”
He half shoved me out onto the stage, but thanks to a lifetime of recovering from public stumbles, I caught myself just in time and walked gracefully out to the center to meet my blonde executioner. She smiled widely and gestured for me to sit on one of the two plush love seats that had been angled toward each other. As I settled in, I peered out for the first time past the blinding lights and rows of seats. Sure enough, there was Marcus, just where he promised.
He wasn’t sitting with the general crowd, in fact, for perhaps the first time since I’d met him, he wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Instead of going with slacks and dress shirts like the rest of the men there, he was wearing jeans and a baseball cap. For good measure, he’d left on his sunglasses despite the darkened studio. Even from a distance, I could tell he was proud of his efforts. Probably thought it was the best version of incognito.
I flashed him a small grin, then turned back to the interviewer. There was a little microphone pinned to the top of my dress, and I was hyper-aware of the fact that it could pick up everything—from my pounding heart to my frantic breathing. Taking Billings’ advice, I leaned back deliberately in my chair and took a few deep breaths.
“So, Rebecca,” she leaned forward with a smile, “before we really get started, I just have to ask: how did you do it?”
My body froze, but I kept on a polite smile. “Do what?”
She raised her eyebrows skeptically. “World’s most famous bachelor. Famous lady’s man. Net worth of over fourteen billion dollars… How did you get Marcus Taylor?”
My blood rose to a boil, but for the first time, I actually started to relax.
So this was how the game was played, was it?
“Oh, Wendy,” I laughed. “I think the question is, how did Marcus Taylor land me?”
The crowd roared in approval, and Marcus himself flashed me a little smile. Instead of being put out, the interviewer actually rose to the occasion with genuine excitement. The lights shined down upon us, and she pulled her chair closer to mine.
The show was afoot.
We bantered back and forth for the better part of an hour, dancing around the weightier issues and focusing on the charming, lighthearted stuff.
Favorite gift: a little diamond bracelet. Favorite moment: karaoke (to the delight of the audience). Favorite kiss: wouldn’t you like to know.
The longer we went at it, the easier it got. I stuck primarily to the cue cards, but for the most part, there wasn’t anything she was asking me where I couldn’t insert a healthy and—as quickly became apparent—delightful bit of truth. It was exactly what Billings had been talking about. I was warming the crowd to Marcus without him even being on stage. Endearing him to a brand new audience by exposing another side of him.
A charming, goofy, softer side…with me.
But it couldn’t be all sunshine and rainbows. As our time was coming to a close, Wendy’s sharp eyes flickered suddenly to the cue cards over my shoulder. Before I even had a chance to get nervous, she hit me with the first one.
“So why the fast wedding?” she asked abruptly. “Three months isn’t a very long time… Why so quick to rush to the altar?”
My heart skipped a beat, but I recovered myself instantaneously. “What can I say? When you know, you know.”
The audience cooed, but she wasn’t satisfied yet.
“But just a month away… Is that even enough time to plan a wedding?”
Marcus’s face twitched nervously, and I forced a laugh. “You’d have to ask my mother. According to her, this is her big party—Marcus and I just happen to be getting married at the same time.”
The crowd roared in laughter.
“So there’s no other rush besides that.”
I pretended to be confused. “No other rush. We’re just romantics at heart.” I held up my hands to the crowd, and they thundered with applause. Apparently, I was a hit!
Her blue eyes sparkled, and she snapped her fingers with some prearranged cue. “In that case, let’s celebrate.”
Two waiters appeared from nowhere and handed each of us a tall flute of Champagne. A lump rose up in my throat, and I stared at it with dread. I could almost see Billings roaring in protest in the background. But no matter what he said now, no matter how many heads were sure to roll, the damage was done. The Champagne was in my hands, and I was suddenly faced with a very obvious choice.
The baby or the business?
I laughed as we clinked glasses. I brought the Champagne up to my lips. Every eye in the house was fixed upon me, but just before I took a sip, I suddenly lowered it to my lap.
“Wendy,” I chided playfully. “Are you trying to get me to admit that I’m pregnant?”