25. Twenty-Five
twenty-five
GINGER
There’s no rational reason why I agreed to any of this. Not to the one night. Not to giving Elliot control of the show’s ending. Not to meeting him at Versailles when the rest of the cast and crew have a full thirty-six hours to sleep off their jet lag.
As I wander from tour group to tour group, searching each tall man’s face to find the one I’m after, the idea of spotting Elliot across a crowded room has my mind in chaos. My body isn’t helping. Since he spent the night at my house, missing him takes up every waking moment. It has me half-convinced I can’t survive without him, which is totally ridiculous, and not at all what my life has been about until this point.
Getting to where I am with my career at the ripe old age of twenty-eight took a singular focus—putting myself first when everyone else was content to write me off. I elevated my priorities over everything, designed a future where I’d be dependent on no one, and I built a life people envy. And for what? What good has it done? It isn’t like I can brag to my mom about it. My mom couldn’t care less. She only ever wants the answer to one question : “When will you finally settle down?”
The truth is, I’ve never wanted to hit the brakes. Until now, when I want time to slow and stop and give me a minute to breathe this moment in—this first time in my life when I don’t feel like I’m going it alone.
I follow a tour entering the Hall of Mirrors and spot Elliot instantly. He’s near the window, on the fringes of a different tour group, wearing dark jeans and an even darker sweater. His hair is unstyled, making him look more like he did last season, when I wasn’t able to tear my gaze away. Not that I’ve been able to for the last several weeks, either, but all this to say, he looks incredibly hot. Like man of my dreams, hot. I place a hand on my stomach to quiet all the butterflies.
What are we supposed to talk about all day? So many people around, and no privacy? I doubt we’ll even function out in public like this. Maybe our forbidden day trip will prove it’s only lust between us, and there’s nothing deep here. Nothing we need to bother ruining our lives for.
He takes a glance around, and our eyes meet. A rippling shock of awareness sends chills across my skin in the stuffy gallery. He approaches, joining my group, a broad smile on his face as my heart threatens to crack my rib cage.
“You made it.” Without any warning, he lifts me into his arms and plants a big kiss on my mouth.
The greeting throws me completely off guard—it’s so public . What if someone recognizes him? But his kiss destroys my willpower. My tongue brushes his while my poor heart pounds and wrings itself dry.
He lowers me back to the floor, but our mouths stay attached for another hot minute. Finally, I regain a shred of modesty, back away, and run my thumb beneath my bottom lip. “Bonjour.”
He laughs. “So, what do you think?”
I glance around the gold and glass hallway. I’ve never gotten a chance to travel outside the show before. My adventures in foreign countries have been all about scouting, planning, and general logistics. Aside from the obligatory Washington, D.C. trip our parents forced on us in high school, I’ve never even taken a guided tour. Exhilarated by the comforting weight of Elliot’s arm around me, I take in a breath and my surroundings.
The grounds are visible from the windows, and chandeliers glitter in the morning sunlight. The colors of the paintings on the ceiling are bright and vivid, provoking an unexplainable sense of joy. “It’s beautiful.”
He takes my hand, and we piggyback onto a passing tour group exiting the palace to explore the grounds. “You tired?”
“Not too bad,” I say.
“Thank you for coming.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I swear I won’t ruin your life.”
I want to remind him not to make promises he can’t keep, but I give part of myself over to the truth, which is that I’m responsible for my own downfall, should it occur, and all he did was make me an offer I couldn’t refuse. If the impossible happens, and I can be with him after all this, then our tour of Versailles will be where it begins for real.
Hope is a powerful drug. It might kill me, but I find I can’t quit it.
As beaten down by jet lag as I am, energy courses through me. If I’m honest, there’s no one I’d rather spend the day with. It isn’t as if Elliot has nothing to offer but his amazing body. America wouldn’t have fallen in love with him if he was all looks. The truth is, he’s a genuinely good guy, and he’s almost too charming to live. He’s deep and smart, a little dark, a little broken. In no time flat, he’s become my favorite person.
“Have you ever thought about living in a different country?” he asks as we approach the edge of the enormous Neptune Fountain. The day is overcast and cool, the water reflecting the steely gray sky. The question is identical to the one he asked on his speed dates the first night of filming. He must be as nervous as I am.
“I mean if someone hooks me up with a place like this.” I gesture at the expansive grounds.
“You need all this?”
I take a long look around. “No. I like where I live. It would take a lot to get me to give it up.” Like an executive producer gig...
“You don’t have a very big place.”
“Well, it’s just me...so...” I nudge his arm with my shoulder as the tour group winds around the fountain. “What about you? You want to move out of the country?”
“I do think about what it would be like—to be someplace so different.”
“LA’s not different enough?”
He nudges me back. “You know what I mean.” We keep walking in the direction of another grove.
“No. I don’t. What is it about your life you don’t like so much? Why are you here? What are you looking for? Why do you think someone else can give you what you need better than you can?” It’s a million questions, but I have about a million more, all along the same lines.
Our steps move in tandem. “After last season, I was ready to give up,” he says.
“Give up what?”
“The dream, I guess—of finding someone I could have a life with. I was ready to turn into one of those guys who never settles down. Sell my townhouse, travel...”
“Jesus. All because one girl didn’t pick you?”
“No. It was because the first girl I wanted since before I could remember didn’t pick me.”
All my lighthearted energy transforms into a massive ball of lead and lodges in the pit of my stomach. “Yeah, I guess that would be tough.”
“Ginger...”
“I mean, she’s here now. Ready to ride off into the sunset with you. So romantic.” I could puke. Right here and now, amongst the treasures of Versailles.
“It would be romantic,” he muses as he gives my hand a squeeze. “If she would ever listen to a word I say.”
I fight the urge to pull my hand away. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you.”
“I was talking about Jenna,” I remind him, too exhausted to try and understand all his cryptic messaging.
“You always are,” he mumbles.
“God, you’re impossible. Why are you resisting this process so hard? Is your Panel right? You’ve given up on falling in love?”
“Is that what they’re saying?”
“Yeah.”
He gives me a lopsided grin. “Who needs love, right? I came here for a family and a joint tax return. Somebody to help me figure out what I want to eat every night. Scrambled eggs get old after a while.”
I squint as the sun peeks out from behind a cloud. “You know what you sound like?”
“What?”
“A guy on the rebound. Like you’re rebounding so hard you’re prepared to take all of America on the bounce with you.”
“That’s what my sister says.”
“She’s right.”
He takes me by the arm, swinging me around to face him. “Is that what you see when you’re looking at me?”
I pretend to study him, and in a flippant way I say, “I see a man who doesn’t have a clue what he wants.”
Elliot leans in until our noses are about to bump. “Look closer.”
I have to catch my breath, both from his proximity and the tone of his voice.
What do I see?
I see a man I want with my entire body and more than one piece of my soul. I want to open my mouth and let him pour into me, all his thoughts and words and feelings, all his edge and his worst fears. I’m not so sure I want to start a family or anything, but I do want to manage his schedule, make sure he takes his vitamins, and ensure he gets enough to eat to keep him strong and glowing and living forever.
I force myself to blink back the rush of possessiveness. I can’t even keep a plant alive, much less a person besides myself. I can’t remember the last time I took a vitamin or had more than two sips of water in a day. “What do I see?” I whisper.
“Yeah.”
“I see you, Elliot.”
His response is quiet. Intimate. “And what does that look like?”
My wildest dream. An impossible fantasy. “Like something I can’t keep.”
“Not that you would want to...” he says.
“Not that I would want to.”
“Right.” He presses his lips to mine and stills, like he’s waiting for me to open my mouth.
When I do, he gathers me into his arms, the kiss deepening into something so romantic, I could cry. He has no clue what he’s doing to me. How special something like this makes me feel. How chosen. How high he’s lifting my hopes—how far down I’ll fall. Why does he keep refusing to see the truth? There’s only one way the season can end—with my heart shredded.
But it’s not like I’m doing anything to stop him. Every time we do this, I swear it’s just sex—swear it will be the last time. Yet I keep coming back for more. Maybe it’s this feeling—when I’m around him—of never feeling unwanted. Like any time I show up, I’m welcome. In another life, we could have been perfect together. Happy. In love.
Instead, he signed a contract that excludes every woman on the planet besides the lucky final six.
Lowering myself off my tiptoes, I press a hand to his chest to hold him back. His heart hammers through his shirt. “Your heart’s working hard. Take a breath. Calm down. I don’t want to spend the rest of this trip doing sudoku with you in some Paris ICU.”
He grins. “Sudoku?”
“Or crosswords, I guess. Not everybody likes sudoku as much as I do.”
“You’d hang out in the ICU with me?”
“Somebody has to make sure the nurses brush your teeth.”
An explosive laugh bursts out of him before he pulls me in for an absolutely soul-wrenching kiss. This time his hands move up and down my back, fisting in my jacket and fucking up my hair beyond what’s appropriate for palace grounds. It’s an end-of-the-movie type kiss. The kind that means a new beginning.
“Was it something I said?” I ask.
“It was—it was something you said.” He exhales a harsh breath near my ear.
My utter confusion resurfaces. “I don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?”
“If you only want a joint checking account, why are we here? Why aren’t you exploring the budgeting habits of the women who came here for you? What are we doing?”
“Telling myself I wanted something didn’t turn out to be the same as wanting it,” he murmurs, keeping me locked in an embrace, our cheeks pressed together.
“So what do you want now?”
“ You. ”
“But that’s impossible...”
“It’s hard. It’s not impossible.”
“You never ask me what I want,” I say.
He loosens his hold on me, enough to be able to look me in the eyes. “I’m listening.”
“There’s a job...”
He nods for me to go on.
“They’re about to start pre-production on a version of this show in Australia. I could do what Marlon does.”
Understanding dawns on his beautiful face. His mouth tightens, and he fills in the blank. “If this season goes well.”
I let go of him, taking the smallest of steps away. “You’re my ticket out of this.”
“So you have considered living in another country.”
“I guess so.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have...”
“What? Backed off?”
“It’s what I was about to say, but I realized it was bullshit, and I feel like for once, we’re being honest, so...” He shoves his hands into his pants pockets, taking another step away from me. He nods toward our opulent surroundings. “What the hell are you doing here then?”
My own hands vibrate with a fine tremble. A tug somewhere deep in my heart wants him closer than he is, hates that my words pushed him back. Still, this is my chance to go. He’s giving me the space required to make my exit. This part, I know how to do. I know how to put my career above everything. I’ve done it before with men I knew better.
But those times, it was worth it.
The certainty that’s pervaded my entire adult life is nowhere to be found on the outskirts of Paris with the man of my dreams staring back at me. I don’t have it in me to end this.
Not here. Not now.
Not yet.
“I want one more night, too.”
He holds out a hand, and I take it, aware of the release of his held breath, his own nervous energy.
Before I say or do another thing, he strokes my jaw, tilting my head until our mouths meet the way they must have been meant to because the fit is so perfect, our timing so exactly right. Releasing my hand, he takes hold of my waist, pulling my body flush against his as he kisses me even better.
“I need to be alone with you,” he says.
“We can’t go back to the hotel.”
“Ginger, I need more time.”
My fingers tighten in his hair as my eyes squeeze shut. I need more time, too. Suddenly the idea of letting him go and losing my job are the exact same amount of bad, making the choice that much harder, but in this moment, as he holds and kisses my face, he’s winning.
Hands down.
Like no contest.
It’s a horrible risk. Stupid. Foolish. Dangerous.
But logistically, my plan is simple. If my coworkers hold true to form, they’ll all be getting ready to go out for the night, shut down a bar, and crash until our five a.m. wake-up call. The ladies and The Panel are free to leave the hotel, too, but they’re expected back at midnight. I have so much sleep I need to catch up on, it isn’t even a lie when I tell Kat I’m too exhausted to go out.
Elliot’s hotel room is on the same floor as mine and the rest of the crew. The women’s rooms are scattered elsewhere in the hotel. I pass Jamie and Holden in the hallway as they approach the elevator.
“’Sup, Ginger?”
“Where are you guys off to?”
“I can’t pronounce it,” Jamie says. “Want us to wait for you?”
I keep my lie simple. “I have to check in with Elliot to see if he needs anything, but then I’m planning to crash again. You guys are machines.”
“City of Light, baby.”
“Have fun.”
“I’ll drop a pin when we get there in case you change your mind,” Jamie assures me.
“I won’t, but thanks.”
Once the two men are on the elevator, an adrenaline charged breath gusts out of me. This is so stupid. And so unnecessary. I shake out my hands and silently beg myself to be smart for once. Behind me, a door opens.
“Come on.” Elliot’s hand reaches through the crack, sleeve rolled up to reveal all the tattoos I still haven’t taken the time to fully examine. I require no further convincing. I practically leap forward, take his hand, and allow myself to be pulled into the room and pressed against the closing door.
His kiss is scorching as his hands tangle in my hair, undoing it with an expert touch. The long strands drop like a veil of denial around us.
“I missed you,” I whisper, no longer able to hide how much I adore him. Everything about him. His strong arms, his warm, wet mouth, his bold tongue—his attention. His fingertips trace the planes of my face and draw lines down my neck. They drive through my hair. He kisses my cheeks and eyes and nose. He keeps coming back for my mouth.
Pulling away for a moment, he presses his forehead against mine, his eyes closed. “Before this gets too crazy, I want to say thank you for today. From the bottom of my heart. It’s been better than I could have hoped for.”
“For me, too.” It’s my only excuse. I can’t imagine anything better. I could relive our day forever. Disappear in Paris with him, never to be found. That’s a thing, right? It really should be.
He swallows so hard it makes a sound. “But before you say anything else, you need to know I’m in love with you.”
“Elliot,” I whisper, stunned at the confession.
“It doesn’t have to change anything.” He turns his attention to the way his hand strokes up and down my side. “I understand what you came here for.” His palm makes its way beneath the fabric of my shirt, the heat of it moving over my bare skin, making his words harder for me to process. “We’ve got a whole night ahead of us. Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”
“Okay,” I manage through the sudden tightness in my throat.
“Are you? Okay?”
“I think so.”
“I needed you to know what page I’m on. In case you had any questions. You’re not thinking too hard, are you?”
“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”
He frowns, adorably concerned. “Let’s get you some food. It’s been a long couple of days.” Releasing me, he exhales a huff of air—the same way he did when he was freaking out about the zip line.
I follow him into his suite, similarly unnerved.
With his back to me, he stands at a table for two near the window. His room is larger than mine, complete with a sitting area, dining table, and a king-sized bed. Appropriate for our most famous star. I stand near the edge of the bed as he pours two glasses of wine.
“Here.” He pushes a glass into my hand and picks one up for himself, taking a long drink from it.
“Do we need to talk?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. You need to fuel yourself up for what I’m about to do to you.”
“Elliot...”
“Let’s not talk anymore,” he says. “I already told you too much, and while I don’t want to walk it back or anything, I don’t want to dwell on it, either.”
We stare intently at each other—like a game of Blink. Why can’t I get the lyrics to “Come Away With Me” out of my head? “Elliot, what are you saying?”
“You’re the one for me.”
“Oh, God.” I blink rapidly. Shell-shocked.
“I was trying to tell you today, but you weren’t getting it. It was never Jenna.”
All the memories and the implications of what we’ve both done to arrive at this moment scatter like shards of glass at my feet. There’s nowhere safe to move. I’m afraid to breathe. “Since when?”
For the first time since he pulled me into the room, his eye contact falters, his confidence wavering. “Here. Eat this.” He reaches for the tray of food, clearly provided by room service, and holds a cube of white cheese up to my lips.
“Gruye?re.”
I hold up my palm to block it and shake my head. “I’m allergic.”
He removes it from my sight immediately. “To cheese?”
“Anything dairy.” God, I’m ruining everything. I brace myself for him to get all offended. The whole— I made an effort and so should you thing.
But Elliot doesn’t get pissed. He doesn’t argue. He simply glances back at the tray. Setting down the cheese, he picks up a strawberry. “How’s this?”
“Perfect,” I whisper.
I let him put it in my mouth. A sweet bite with a tart finish. I take another sip of wine in an attempt to brace myself for whatever he’s working himself up to say.
He sweeps my hair off one shoulder and rests a warm hand against my neck. “I played by the rules last season,” he says. “I did the work. I put aside all my doubts about marriage and love and engaged in the process the way Michelle told me to. I did what I could to ignore all the feelings I had that weren’t part of that—like the way I felt whenever I saw you.”
I shake my head suddenly. It’s too much. He doesn’t need to say anything else. This is already impossible enough to comprehend without him putting more questions in my head.
“You don’t believe me.”
“No,” I say abruptly.
He shoves another strawberry at my mouth. I eat the fruit to keep from saying something else I may or may not mean.
“Not all kinds of compatibility show up on a scorecard,” he says.
If he’s referring to the times he and Jenna had secret sex on their season, I need to rethink spending the night with him. “Elliot—I can’t. I don’t want to hear this.”
“I did learn something though—going through all that,” he goes on.
“Which is?”
“I did want the ending. I did want to find a match and make it work and see what else life has to offer.”
“So you came back...”
He sweeps a thumb along my cheekbone, his gaze direct and honest. “No. I reached out to you .”