Chapter XLI
Roman
If someone had asked me last week if it was possible to live a lifetime in three days, I would have told them no. But that was before Demi came crawling through my window.
The last three days had been the best of my life—Demi, Junie, and me stealing every spare moment we could.
I’d lost sleep just to memorize her: the way her lyrical laugh filled a room, the feel of her smooth skin, the hitch in her breath when I nuzzled her neck, the way she made Junie giggle longer and harder than anyone else ever had.
The way she’d looked under the stars last night.
For three days, the void inside me had almost disappeared. Almost. But now it was back, knocking at the door, waiting to swallow me whole as soon as the full moon rose tonight.
A life without Demi was unthinkable. And yet, it was the only future I could see.
I’d hoped that if I loved her enough, some miracle would happen. That even though I wasn’t her one true love, maybe the true love I felt for her would unlock her heart.
And here I was, pretending it was business as usual—preparing for the matching ceremony at dusk tonight—when all I wanted was to run far away with Demi and Junie. To a place not even the gods could reach.
But that place didn’t exist.
I’d been desperate enough to ask Jupiter to speak to Zeus. He’d refused, claiming tensions were already too high between Greeks and Romans. Although he felt for my circumstances and wished the fates to be in my favor. I couldn’t rely on fate alone.
So I tried Eros. Again and again. The prick wouldn’t pick up.
Didn’t he care that his daughter was about to be torn from him? Didn’t he care that the world needed her?
I slammed my fist against the desk in my makeshift office, knuckles stinging. I needed her.
Jazzy popped her head in, radiating that new-love glow. She could thank Demi for that. But she wouldn’t.
“Hey, we’re almost ready for you. Another great season,” she chirped. “I was worried there for a while, but little Miss Sunshine didn’t ruin it after all.”
I narrowed my eyes, the muscles in my jaw tightening. She was talking about Demi, and every instinct in me wanted to hurl insults back. At first, I held my tongue—I wasn’t supposed to be personally connected to Demi.
But then I remembered Junie’s words before I’d left that morning. She’d hugged my neck, her little arms squeezing tight, and whispered, “Daddy, you have to be very brave for Demi today. It’s important.”
I’d asked her what she meant, but she’d only smiled and said, “I can’t tell you.” Whatever secrets her goddess was whispering to her, I wanted to know. Especially if it meant we got to keep Demi in our lives.
I didn’t know what being brave for Demi meant, but the least I could do was defend her.
“Jazzy,” I said evenly, forcing calm into my voice.
“I consider you a friend. And I’ve always appreciated our working relationship and your opinion.
You’re the best at what you do. But you’re wrong about Demi.
In fact, you should be thanking her for your relationship with Miles.
Maybe all the relationships this season. ”
Jazzy blinked, her smile faltering.
“What are you talking about? What would she have to do with it? And Miles and I are just friends,” she stuttered, her lie apparent.
“Please,” I said, leaning forward, my tone sharp. “You’re fooling no one.”
Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. “And you think you are? It’s obvious you have feelings for Demi. You’re jeopardizing your job and our show.”
I didn’t flinch. “You know what? She’d be worth all of it.”
Jazzy froze, stunned. For a few beats she stood immobile, before she shook her head and looked away.
“Roman, I’m just worried about you. I don’t want you to throw everything you’ve worked so hard for away.”
“I know you are, and I appreciate it. But some things are more important. Things like real love. I think we’ve forgotten that on this show.”
Jazzy had the decency to look abashed, even giving a half nod. She was a good person. But I think we’d all lost sight of why we’d first started this show. I knew I had. Demi had made me see that.
I pushed back from the desk, the chair scraping against the floor, and rose to my feet. My hands flexed uselessly at my sides, itching for something—anything—to hold on to.
“Should we go?” I asked, my voice hollow.
Every second was a countdown, hurtling me closer to the moment I might lose Demi forever. My chest tightened, the weight of inevitability pressing down.
It was a Roman tragedy in the making.
As we walked out together, Jazzy slipped her arm around me and gave me a side hug.
“You look like you could use this.”
She wasn’t wrong. But I could use more than a hug. I needed a miracle.
In the makeup chair, the brush felt like sandpaper against my skin. The suit wardrobe had picked out for me tugged at my shoulders, the fabric heavy, suffocating. All the while, the impending sense of dread threatened to swallow me whole.
I racked my brain, desperate for answers. How could I be brave for Demi when inside I felt as scared as a child? My hands clenched and unclenched in my lap, the tremor in them betraying me.
Junie’s words echoed like a drumbeat: Daddy, you have to be very brave for Demi today.
What did that mean? Was it the key to Demi’s heart?
The question gnawed at me as I walked toward the clearing where the matching ceremony was being held. Each step felt heavier than the last, like I was dragging chains behind me.
Why did I feel like I’d forgotten something—or worse, like something vital was slipping through my fingers? My breath became shallow, the air too thick to draw in.
How must Demi be feeling? It was her life that hung in the balance, and I was powerless to save her.
I’d tried. Hell, I’d tried. Maybe I shouldn’t have given in to her. Maybe I should have searched longer for her true love. But even as the guilt ate at me, I knew one thing with absolute certainty: I would never regret our time together. I would never regret loving her.
The ceremony was perfectly staged. Lanterns lined the gravel pathway, ready to flicker to life as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon.
A wooden dais with steps around it sat in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by wildflowers in every color.
The setting sun bathed it all in gold, as if blessing it.
Harp music floated through the air, delicate and haunting. The sound crew had even woven in the chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves, crafting a perfect illusion of magic.
But nothing about this felt magical.
To me, it was a nightmare come to life. Every lantern was a countdown, every note of the harp a reminder that time was slipping away.
I balled my fists, nails biting into my palms, trying to anchor myself against the rising panic. The world shimmered with enchantment, but all I could see was the shadow of loss waiting at the edge of the moonlight.
My crew handed me a mic pack, and I took my place center stage on the dais.
I knew the cast would appear out of the forest—first the men, then the women—emerging from the shadows like participants in a ritual. They would stand in a circle around the dais, their faces lifted toward me as if I were someone worth worshipping.
The Architect of Love.
Demi was right—it was a laughable title. A crown I hadn’t earned. The only love I’d architected this season was my own—and tonight, it might be torn from me forever.
The harp music swelled, lanterns flickered, and the expectant hush pressed down on me. My throat tightened, the dais feeling as if it were a stage for my failure.
I forced my shoulders back, but inside I was crumbling.
One by one, the cast members filed out of the forest. The men in linen suits, crisp and pale against the deepening dusk. The women in flowing dresses of purples and golds, their hems catching the lantern light as they moved.
But I only had eyes for her.
Demi stepped into the clearing in a metallic dress, the fabric clinging and shimmering as if it had been made of actual molten gold.
Her skin glowed, kissed by the last rays of the setting sun, and her red hair blazed like fire—flames I longed to bury myself in, flames I wished would burn away the darkness waiting for us tonight.
She was a goddess.
She smiled as if to say it would all be okay, but deep down we both knew it wouldn’t be.
When everyone was staged around the dais, my crew gave me the go-ahead.
“Welcome to the matching ceremony. Tonight, we gather to honor love—the force that binds us, shapes us, and sometimes breaks us. We’ve spent this season searching for it, testing it, and celebrating it.
And now, we stand at the edge of fate, ready to see who will be matched, and who will walk away alone. ”
I paused to scan the circle of faces surrounding me. My gaze repeatedly drifting back to Demi. She was a vision. She stood like a statue carved from flame and gold, her eyes fixed on the horizon where the moon would soon rise.
My voice tightened.
“Love is not a game, though we’ve tried to make it one. It’s not a title, though I’ve been called the architect of it. Love is sacrifice. Love is courage. And tonight, we will see if it is enough.”
Please let it be enough.
The crowd shifted, restless, waiting for the ceremony to unfold. But all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart, echoing the prayer I dared not speak aloud: Don’t take her from me.
“Jax and Paloma, please join me.”
They walked up the steps opposite each other, beaming as if the whole world had come down to this moment. Jax immediately reached for her hand, and Paloma gave it without hesitation, her fingers threading through his like they’d been waiting all season for this touch.
“Is this a match?” I asked them, my voice carrying across the clearing.
The crowd leaned forward, breath held, lantern light flickering across expectant faces. Jax’s grin widened, Paloma’s eyes shimmered, and they answered in unison:
“Yes.”