Chapter XVIII #2
I could read her emotions like a book. Maggie didn’t feel like she belonged here. She felt less than—less glamorous, less beautiful, less bold. She regretted applying to be on the show. But she wanted love. Wanted someone to share her life with.
Without thinking, I reached for her hand.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I said.
It wasn’t a lie. But the words felt foreign in my mouth. Not in a bad way. Actually . . . it felt nice.
Maggie gripped my hand and smiled.
“Thank you. You know, I took gymnastics because of you.”
It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that, but it always meant something. Even now—when my feelings felt stunted, like they were stuck behind glass. When I hadn’t so much as touched a mat in years. Too afraid to be the girl I used to be.
“Really?”
“Yes. But I was awful at it.” She giggled, softly and self-deprecatingly.
I wanted to tell her the truth—that the only reason I was any good was because of the divinity running through me. But I also didn’t want to spend the rest of my life in Tartarus.
Before I could say anything, Jessica trilled from across the firepit, twirling her marshmallow like it was a microphone.
“Demi, you have to tell us what you’re doing here. Seriously, girl. All the boys wanted you back in the day. Even my high school boyfriend had a picture of you in his locker.”
I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Not exactly sure why I was here after my recent conversation with Cassie. Thankfully—or maybe not—Paloma jumped in.
“It’s getting harder out there, isn’t it?” she said, voice low and smoky. “It feels like no one can find love anymore.”
“Yeah,” Brinley sighed, her shoulders slumping.
Cassie gave me a sidelong glance, the kind that saw straight through me.
She knew the increasing guilt I’d been carrying about the state of the world’s love lives.
I couldn’t avoid the truth—I had hurt people.
Even these women, who used to be just faceless names flashing across screens or being discussed in committees at the Bureau, waiting for approval or denial.
I could feel their pain. It was almost tangible.
“I want to hear your stories,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Everyone knows mine. My tragedy. But I want to know yours.”
In all honesty, I wasn’t so sure I did. But I felt like I needed to.
My mom used to say the first step in fixing a mistake is admitting you made one.
Brinley was always the first to jump in, and the group just let her.
She pulled her golden-brown marshmallow out of the fire and let it hang limply in front of her, eyes fixed on the flames.
“Last year,” she said softly, “I thought my boyfriend, Liam, was going to propose. But out of the blue, he tells me it’s just not working. That he needs to move on.”
She paused, the firelight catching the sadness in her smile.
“This after months of telling me we were soulmates. And it felt like that. Love at first sight. You know—after he saved me from literally falling off a cliff in Hawaii while I was taking a selfie for the resort that sponsored me.”
She smiled again, wistfully. It appeared that those memories still meant a lot to her, even through the ache.
“Have you ever just met someone and knew?” she asked.
I shifted uncomfortably.
Because yes—I knew what that felt like. Or thought I had.
The jury was still out on whether that feeling had been real.
My guess? Probably not. But doubt had crept in, and it was getting louder.
What made me more uncomfortable was knowing it was me and my rule book that had ruined Brinley’s relationship.
Love at first sight, dangerous circumstances, dramatic rescues—those were automatic denials. Statistically speaking, those kinds of relationships were doomed. And I could practically guarantee there had been a lot of grand gestures involved.
I swallowed hard, guilt consuming my chest like a forest fire.
It didn’t help when Jessica threw her arms around Brinley.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry—we’re like twinsies. My Asher just up and left me last year too. No warning. I’ve never cried so hard.” She sniffled, eyes glassy. “Funny thing is, we used to hate each other. But one day it was like I couldn’t live without him.”
“Enemies to lovers,” I murmured. “I mean . . . that can be tricky,” I added, trying to assuage my guilt for dooming the trope. Because, again—research showed that while enemies to lovers was great in books and on-screen, it didn’t translate all that well in real life. Too much volatility.
Jessica turned toward me, tears streaking her cheeks.
“It was tricky. We hardly agreed on anything—especially politics. But somehow we made it work. It was worth it. Worth trying to see his side of things, and for him to see mine.”
She paused, voice cracking.
“I guess . . . until it wasn’t for him.”
“Girl, I can totally relate.” Paloma wrapped her blanket tighter around her shoulders, her voice lowering.
“Theo—my ex—told me what we had wasn’t worth fighting for anymore.
” She hesitated, cheeks flushed. “He was my captain,” she admitted, a little abashed.
“It was against the rules for us to be seeing each other, but it’s hard to fight feelings that strong. You know?”
Everyone nodded. Except Cassie and me.
“I’m not gonna lie,” Paloma added, fanning herself with one hand. “The sneaking around was so hot.” She paused, her voice tightening. “But Theo got tired of the risk. Or maybe . . . just tired of me.”
It was official. I was a monster. A horrible goddess of love who did nothing but deny people the very thing I was supposed to protect.
Sure, workplace romance wasn’t exactly a good idea—especially among firefighters. And he was her superior. Can you say HR nightmare? Not to mention the PR disaster if something went wrong during an emergency and someone traced it back to their relationship.
But still. She’d loved him. And I’d ruined it.
“Do you still work with him?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she breathed out. “It’s awkward as hell. Torturous, even. That’s why I took a sabbatical and signed up for this show. I just hope I can find someone new. Move on with my life.”
See, workplace romance was never a good idea. Well . . . maybe never was too strong. I was questioning all my rules now. And the divine voice inside of me? She was thrilled about it. She wanted to fix everything I’d broken.
So did I.
“I hope you find someone here too,” I said, offering her a small smile, even though my insides were twisting with guilt. “I’ll make it my life goal.”
Paloma blinked, then smiled. “Weirdly, I believe you.”
Jessica leaned forward, marshmallow forgotten. “How about you, Maggie? What’s your story? Do you have an ex?”
Maggie shook her head, eyes downcast.
“I mean, I’ve dated. But nothing serious ever came my way. It’s like I’m the starter, and someone else is always the finisher. Like I’m never good enough.”
I wrapped an arm around Maggie. All her self-doubt hit me like a tidal wave. I was going to have to help her with that. Even though I doubted myself more than ever.
“Or maybe they just weren’t good enough for you,” I said.
She rested her head on my shoulder.
“I tell myself that lie all the time.” She giggled.
“I don’t think it’s a lie.”
“Of course it’s not,” Paloma chimed in. “It’s these men.”
“Yeah!” Jessica and Brinley shouted in unison.
Brinley turned, eyes gleaming. “Okay, Cassie—what about you?” she sang.
“Me?” Cassie shrugged. “I’m just here for a good time. Men are tools.”
We all laughed. Even me. Although I felt like crying.
Because I really was ruining the world. And I wasn’t sure I could undo the damage I’d done.
I was beginning to think this quest wasn’t about unlocking my heart. It was penance.
Because, really, after all the strife I’d clearly caused, did I deserve a love story of my own?