37. Nick
Chapter thirty-seven
Nick
T hroughout my life, I have participated in many interviews with the press, but this one feels different. More substantial and weighty, with more at risk should the interview go sideways.
Surprisingly, I appear to be the only one feeling anxious.
With a placid smile on her gorgeous face, Willa sits with her hands loosely clasped in her lap and her head held high, the picture of composure. We sit beside one another, sharing the navy-blue brocade loveseat in the palace library.
My lips twitch at the memory of the last time we were on a library couch together.
Best to get my head in the game and out of the gutter.
After the tabloid article came out, the backlash against Willa was fierce and immediate.
Despite releasing a statement condemning the article as false, it has done little to counter the tide of negative publicity.
Willa was right to fear that the tabloids wouldn't be content to stop at pregnancy speculation.
One rag posted photos of Willa drinking a glass of wine while we were on a dinner date.
People went crazy, bashing her for drinking while pregnant.
Others hypothesized that her drinking was confirmation that she had an abortion .
No one seems interested in the truth, but I hope they will be after today's interview.
Outside of camera range stands a circle of our closest friends.
Willa went through her miscarriage alone, but I wanted her to know that she wasn’t going to relive it alone.
Her mother, Maggie, and Aiden flew in a few days ago, and Alex cleared his schedule to be here as well.
Once Ellie heard about the interview, she drove down early this morning to be here, too.
Johann stands with them, holding Bruno’s colorful leash.
After Willa admitted that part of the reason that she almost left me was because of how isolated and alone she felt living in a new country, I put in a request to officially adopt Bruno as a pet.
I know how much he loves Willa, and I wanted Willa to have a companion.
Given Bruno's lackluster job performance these last few months, my request was approved. Since Bruno officially became her dog, the beast has hardly left her side. He even allows Willa to dress him in jaunty bowties. Today’s is royal blue to match the color of her dress.
Last night, a large package arrived on the doorstep of Stoneleigh Cottage.
Inside was an assortment of sweaters and pajamas for Bruno to wear once the weather cools.
Despite wearing a thick fur coat, she thinks he needs pajamas.
It’s ridiculous and I love her even more for it.
The news show’s music starts, and Rebecca Petro, the journalist who Willa selected to conduct the interview begins. “Welcome, Your Royal Highness and Ms. Radford. Thank you for joining me.”
After Willa and I echo similar greetings, Rebecca inquires, “Willa, what made you want to sit down with me to have this discussion?”
Poised, Willa smiles, her chin bravely lifted. “When that article was published, I knew I couldn’t sit quietly and allow the speculation to continue.”
“By 'that article' are you referring to the article claiming you are pregnant with Prince Nicholai’s baby?”
Willa purses her lips. “That’s the one.”
With raised eyebrows, Rebecca implores, “Once and for all, allow me to ask you the question that all of tonight's viewers want answered: Are you pregnant with the prince's child, Willa?”
“No," Willa shakes her head emphatically. “I'm not now, nor have I ever been pregnant with Nick’s child.”
“How do you explain the evidence—the medical file that was attributed as being yours?”
“I can’t explain what I don’t know, and I do not know how that so-called evidence,” Willa puts that word in air quotes, “came about. While the paperwork appears legitimate, I can assure you, it isn’t.
My best guess is that the author of the email took someone’s real medical file and doctored it to make it appear as if it was mine. ”
“During Prince Nicholai's public statement refuting the story, he claimed it was an attempt at a smear campaign against you. Do you have any idea who might have authored the email?”
“I haven’t a clue, Rebecca. After living my entire adult life in the spotlight, I know there are always unscrupulous people willing to sell a pack of lies to make some fast money.
” Exhaling a breath, Willa continues, "But the article has opened the door to an important topic, which is really why I'm here today, Rebecca.
Several years ago, I became pregnant and suffered a miscarriage at the end of my first trimester. "
Rebecca’s mouth turns down, the picture of empathy. “I'm sorry.”
“Thank you. While I was in a serious relationship at the time, my pregnancy wasn’t planned, but I was ecstatic about it. I very much wanted to have a child. Unfortunately, at thirteen weeks, I began bleeding and suffered a miscarriage. ”
“That must have been incredibly painful, both physically and emotionally.”
“It was. It was the most terrifying, emotionally fraught, lonely experience of my life.” Willa’s eyes well up and I sandwich her hand between mine.
Clearing her throat, she continues, “At the time, I hid my pain because I wanted privacy to grieve the loss of my unborn child. But now, this article has dredged up those memories, forcing me to relive them. While it’s still painful, I’m much stronger now.
I have a support system and an understanding and loving partner.
Despite how alone I felt at the time, sadly, I am far from the only woman who has endured this experience.
Yet, it remains a topic that is rarely discussed openly. ”
As the interview continues, Willa shares the lasting effects of her miscarriage—the complicated grief, the buried trauma, the panic attacks, and the fear that it has affected her fertility.
Listening to Willa bravely handle these difficult topics with ease and grace, my love for her grows even stronger. Willa is candid and vulnerable and thoughtful in her responses.
When I persuaded Willa to allow me to be a part of this interview, I did so under the assumption that she would need me, but I realize now just how strong she is. She doesn’t need me at all.
“How do you see yourself moving forward from this experience?”
“With ongoing therapy, I’m moving forward one step at a time.
In the immediate aftermath of my miscarriage, I didn’t want to face my pain, so I hid it and ignored my feelings, but there are things I wish I would have done differently.
Things that would have helped me process my loss in healthier ways. ”
“Such as,” prods Rebecca.
“When I became pregnant, I chose not to find out the gender of my baby. Then when I miscarried, I never named my child because I didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl.
Also, I wasn't aware that I could request to send the remains to a funeral home for burial or cremation. Instead, I allowed the hospital to handle the disposition of the remains.” Willa smiles a brief, sad smile that's filled with regret.
“In hindsight, I wish I had given my child a name and a final resting place. But at that time, those decisions were too difficult to bear.”
God, that’s new information that Willa has never shared with me. It’s heart-wrenching to imagine Willa in the hospital having to make those decisions alone.
“Both as Prince Nicholai’s girlfriend and as a famous actress, you have quite the large platform. Do you plan on utilizing your notoriety to advocate for women’s reproductive health issues?”
“Absolutely. In large part that’s why I decided to come forward and tell my story publicly, Rebecca. If I am ever lucky enough to become an official member of the Belgrovinian royal family—”
“When, not if, my darling,” I interrupt.
Willa’s lips turn up at the corners as she rolls her eyes playfully before finishing her response, “ When I become an official member of the royal family, I’d very much like to offer my support and patronage to philanthropic organizations which provide funding for and increase access to women’s health care. ”
Rebecca swivels in her chair, turning her face to me. “Prince Nicholai, you make it sound like you envision a long-term future with Willa. Is that accurate?”
“Very,” I nod. “One day soon, I hope to make her my wife.”
Closing my eyes, I bow my head over my desk and rub the bridge of my nose. Today has been long, but it's been good. The interview that Willa and I shot this morning went well. Very well. She's resilient and gutsy and every day I am in awe of her moxie.
However, I remain livid that my duplicitous mother orchestrated a scenario in which Willa was forced to speak to the press about her private personal matters.
That should have been solely Willa's choice, but that freedom was stolen from her when Mother planted the false story about Willa being pregnant.
As soon as I read that blasted article, I knew Mother was behind it.
While the medical file had Willa’s name on it, the information matched Carisa.
I recognized the date first. Then once I read through it more thoroughly, I noticed that much of the patient’s identifying information—height, weight, age, etc.
—matched Carisa, not Willa. Mother got sloppy while fabricating the story she sold to the tabloids.
But at least it provided Alex with the impetus for getting Mother out of the picture faster. That’s our consolation prize.
Picking up my cell phone, I lean back in my chair and rest my legs upon the top of my desk. Tapping out a text, I check on Willa.
Me: How are you? I'll be home soon.
She spent the rest of the day with her mum, Maggie, and Aiden, but I’m sure she’s worn out, given how emotional and stressful this morning’s interview was.
Willa: I'm tired but feeling good. I'm going to pour a glass of wine and take a bath.
Me: Shall I ask the kitchen to make us dinner?