27. Twenty-Seven
twenty-seven
ELLIOT
There is no way to know how long the knocking has been going on when it finally wakes me. Ginger doesn’t even stir. Glancing around, the evidence of what we did all evening will take more than a few seconds to clean up on my own. A few discarded condoms, ripped wrappers, my clothes, her clothes, no telling how many wet spots—I nudge her. “Someone’s at the door. Wake up.”
Without opening her eyes, she reaches for me, attempting to draw me close. I take hold of her wrist and give it a tug, forcing her to pay attention. “Ginger—someone’s at the door.”
“What time is it?”
I check the clock on my bedside table. It’s midnight.
“Elliot—open up!” Kat’s voice gets our attention.
Ginger pushes herself up on her hands as I swing my legs off the bed.
“Shit.” I grab for everything I need to hide. The wrappers, the clothes, Ginger’s ponytail holder. I throw all of it on the bed, pulling at the sheets to conceal the evidence. In doing so, I expose Ginger’s entire naked body.
Overwhelmed by an urge to protect her, I scoop her off the bed, planting her firmly on her feet. “Get in the bathroom and shut the door—I’ll deal with it.”
Wild-eyed, she looks around for her clothes, but they’re already wrapped up in the sheets. Spotting one of her shoes on the floor beside the bed, she grabs it and runs, bare-assed into the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a quiet click. I grab my pants from the floor as the knocking grows louder and more insistent.
“I’m coming!” Glancing back at my utterly debauched bed, I tense. I can’t let anyone in this room.
Unlocking the dead bolt, I open the door a crack. “I was sleeping.”
Kat isn’t alone. Next to her, Cassie stands with an expectant smile, dimples on full display, and a gift-wrapped package in her hands.
Both women give my bare upper body the once-over. They’re alone, without cameras, and in a twisted flashback, I remember this is exactly how Jenna and I got to see each other so often last season—Kat, shepherding us around under the radar—like it’s one of her job responsibilities to facilitate conjugal visits to the participants.
“Can I help you?” I ask like I don’t know exactly what’s going on.
“Cassie has a gift for you. I told her I’d show her to your room.”
Cassie presents the package. It trembles in her outstretched hands. “They’re macarons.”
When I open the door wide enough to receive the box, Kat slips past me. I whirl around, attempting to halt her progress with my voice. “Now’s not a great time—I was about to take a shower?—”
Kat glances at the closed bathroom door, then to the bed, taking in the scene. Good thing she doesn’t have a blacklight, but I’m not so sure the lack of it will save me.
Cassie comes into the room as well, frowning at the well-used bed with Kat. There is, indeed, an exposed wet spot.
“Elliot,” Kat spins to face me. “Are we alone?”
“Yes. Why?”
Cassie’s lips press firmly together. She rolls back her shoulders and marches over to the bed. Grabbing the wadded-up sheet, she shakes it to reveal the mess. A condom wrapper settles on the floor, right next to Ginger’s pink satin panties.
She drops the sheet like it’s burning her fingertips and covers her face with both hands. “Oh my God,” she whispers. “I am so stupid.”
Kat plants her feet, fists on hips, glaring up at Elliot. “Did Jenna get to you first?”
“Excuse me?”
“Where is she?”
“Nowhere. What are you talking about?”
“Give it a rest, Elliot. You’ve obviously been fucking somebody—where is she?”
“Look, I don’t have any idea where Jenna is—and as for what I do when I’m alone in my room, it’s not any of your goddamn business, Kat.”
“Alone?” Cassie asks, Ginger’s bra now dangling from her hand.
I backpedal. I could handle this easily if it were only Kat finding me out, but having Cassie see everything—it’s a betrayal. Every woman here has given up something for the season, for me. I’m a selfish piece of shit.
“I should have left this circus last week while I still had an ounce of pride.” She flings the pink bra at my face as she storms out of the room, the door slamming behind her.
“Cassie— Fuck .” It isn’t like I can go after her. Ginger is still in the?—
Shit.
With my attention on Cassie, I missed the fact that Kat is making a beeline for the bathroom. The door is already open.
“Are you kidding me?” Kat shouts.
As I smack face first into rock-bottom, I pick up Ginger’s bra and panties while Kat stares slack-jawed into the bathroom at what I can only assume is Ginger in a towel.
Ginger, of course, doesn’t take the easy way out. No, not my girl. Instead of a desperate cry of “I can explain,” she comes out swinging. “What the fuck are you bringing Cassie in here for? Didn’t we talk about this?”
“Excuse me? You’re questioning my morals? Right now? Here? Dressed like that?”
Ginger shoves past her, back into the main room of the suite, a hotel robe cinched tightly around her waist. Her face is deeply red, and she has no more words, having taken her best shot and realizing it doesn’t cut it, I imagine. She picks through the debris of the bedroom to find her clothes.
Kat tracks Ginger’s movements, her expression still frozen in shock. “You’re fucking him? Ginger, what the hell? Why? How long has this been going on?”
Ginger doesn’t look up at me as I hand over her lingerie. The humiliated slump of her shoulders tears me in half.
I have to do something. “Kat—would you mind? No one invited you in.”
Kat’s head rears back, and she looks at me like she forgot I was here. “You son of a bitch. How dare you?”
“Kat, stop.” Ginger, with an armful of clothes, faces her co-producer. “None of this is his fault.”
That’s pretty far-flung from the actual truth. I can’t let her take all the blame. Or any of it. I step between the two women. “It’s completely my fault. If you can give her a minute to get dressed, we can talk.”
Kat lets go a harsh breath of disbelief. The look of shock on her face hasn’t changed since she opened the bathroom door, like this is all too much to process. “Fine.” She throws up her hands. “Fine. Goddammit, Ginger.”
On that note, she leaves us alone. To her credit, she doesn’t slam the door.
I turn back to Ginger who’s getting dressed like the building is about to collapse.
Her hands shake as she attempts to zip her pants.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Why? I did this. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have come here. It was too big a risk, and I...” She covers her face with both hands as a sob wrenches its way out of her.
I close the distance between us with two strides and pull her into my arms. She stiffens, like she can’t let herself hug me back. I press a kiss to the top of her head and try to come up with something to say that won’t sound like total bullshit. Something other than “it’ll be okay,” when it obviously won’t be.
“I love you,” I say.
She sniffs and pulls away.
“I’ll figure this out,” I promise.
“It’s over, Elliot.” Backing away from me, she wipes at her face with the fingertips of both hands before turning for the door. “Even if I can convince Kat this was a one-time thing, I’ll have to go, and you’ll have to finish the show, and it’s over .”
“Ginger—don’t give up?—”
“This was a fantasy. Don’t you get it? It’s time for both of us to wake the fuck up.”