and I thank the stars you didn’t choose her—or Phoebe. The audience clearly wanted Phoebe, but mostly they wanted a proposal from you. On air. For everyone to see. Preferably to Phoebe.”
I know everything she’s saying is true. Sebastian may have asked for my forgiveness and told the world he wanted to be with someone he’d already sent home publicly on the show, but he didn’t name me, and there were no cameras when he turned up on my doorstep in Houston to declare his love for me. A fact I was very happy about at the time.
“Everyone wanted Seb to end up with Phoebe,” I say dully.
“They did. And, I hate to say it—” she begins, and I wonder does she actually hate to say it? My guess is no. “—you were never a frontrunner, Emma. You were what we refer to as an ‘also ran.’”
An “also ran”? How to make a girl feel super special. I swallow down a rising lump in my throat. The memes, the headlines, the jokes. It all comes flooding back. No one wanted me to end up with Sebastian.
No one but him.
Under the table, Sebastian takes my hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Heather, I need you to know I fell deeply in love with Emma on the show, but the audience didn’t see it because it happened when the cameras were off.”
“Exactly! Because you were breaking the rules and sneaking around behind everyone’s backs,” Heather quips. “We know, Sebastian. We know.”
“I don’t see the issue here. The fact of the matter is Emma and I are engaged to be married, we are incredibly happy together, and we are both committed to saving my family home. Together.” He’s so firm and manly in his delivery, a tingle shoots up my spine as I gaze lovingly at him.
That’s my man.
Heather taps her chin while she studies us across the table. “I see where you’re coming from. I get it, I do. Love is unpredictable. The heart wants what the heart wants.”
“That’s right,” I say, my spirits bolstered. Perhaps she’s open to me being included on the show?
“Shame the heart didn’t want someone the public wanted, though, isn’t it?” Heather poses it as a question, but I know it’s rhetorical.
“Look, Heather,” Jilly says, adjusting her seating position, “Sebastian has made his decision. There is no other woman for him. Isn’t that right, Sebby?”
Sebastian nods. “That’s right. My mind is set.”
Heather narrows her eyes at Jilly. “Are you just the family lawyer, or something more?”
“Oh, ah,” Jilly stumbles, “we’ve known one another since we were in nappies, I suppose. Our mothers are great friends, you see. And we went to Cambridge together, too, of course.”
“A lifelong connection, eh?” Heather says. “That might be an angle the viewers could get on board with.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I sputter.
Is she suggesting what I think she’s suggesting?
“Picture this.” Heather gestures with her hands. “Sebastian, you went on Dating to find the love of your life. It didn’t work out, not because you didn’t want it to. You did. Badly. Because you’re harboring a secret. A big, juicy secret.” She shoots us a knowing look.
“What secret is that, exactly?” Sebastian asks, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation in his voice.
“You’ve been denying your feelings all along. And now that your house is in peril, wham!” She bangs the table with her fist. “It hits you like a lightning bolt—you, Sebastian Huntington-Ross, are in love with your childhood sweetheart. You are in love with Jilly.”
Jilly instantly bursts into frenzied giggles, probably from the sheer shock, while Sebastian and I blink at Heather in total disbelief.
“I’m sorry, what now?” I ask.
She leans back in her chair. “It’s simple, really. The person you were talking to during that last episode of the show was Jilly.”
“But it wasn’t,” Sebastian refutes.
“But it could have been.”
“It was Emma.”
“How does anyone know that?”
“How about the fact that I mentioned I sent her home from the show? Jilly wasn’t on the show.”
“He’s right. I wasn’t,” Jilly adds unnecessarily.
“Then there’s the fact your production team gave me the go-ahead to speak directly into the camera to deliver my message. You knew all about my plan. Don’t pretend you didn’t, Heather.”
Heather exhales loudly. “Yes, all right,” she says, annoyed. “Let’s do it.”
He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on the table. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying as long as we can fulfil my list,” She gestures at the whiteboard, “Saving Pemberley is a go.”
“It is?” Sebastian’s