24. Twenty-Four
twenty-four
GINGER
I brush the toe of my shoe against a piece of gravel on the floor, left by the crew. When I look up at Elliot again, it’s impossible to disguise my frustration. But it isn’t directed at him. I wish I’d never taken this stupid job.
What do I need from him? What I need is to get out of here before I do something insane like fall into his arms and beg him to kiss me and rub my head until I fall asleep.
Wrong feelings. Super bad.
“Do you want me to fall madly in love with one of the women here?”
I’d rather the Hacienda were destroyed in a landslide. I manage to nod and make an affirmative sound. “Mmhmm...”
“Do you understand what I’m asking you?”
Sure I do. It’s a different version of what he asked this morning. Do I wish things were different?
They. Aren’t.
So who gives a shit what I wish? “If there’s something you want to say, stop trying to get me to say it for you. What, Elliot?”
He cracks more than I expect him to. “I’m confused, Ginger.”
“About Jenna?”
“No. Fuck Jenna—Jesus Christ. I’m confused about this .” He gestures between us. “Is there something here? Do we need to be dealing with that?”
“We’ve dealt with it.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too, but I’m still feeling?—”
“What?” I’m half-dying to know what he’s going to say. Maybe his answer will help un-confuse me . “Unresolved.”
“Still?”
“You’re not?” he asks.
I can’t even lie. It would come out sounding so fake, and this pointless conversation will never end. “I mean, I am, but I don’t know what to do about it. Talking about it doesn’t help. Fucking doesn’t help. I figure at this point the best thing to do is pretend it never happened and follow our own separate destinies. And look, I’m handing you your long-lost love on a silver platter.” I send a flourish out with my arms and give him a slight bow. “You’re welcome.”
“I would have been fine without her.”
“Yeah, well, the show wouldn’t have. So I suggest you welcome her back with an open mind and open heart. Congratulations in advance on your happily ever after.”
“You can’t be serious,” he scoffs.
“Of course I’m serious.”
“I don’t want anything to do with her. That was the whole point of this.”
He’s angry, but he’ll see the light. They always do.
Jenna is his light. “Give her a chance, Elliot...”
“I hate to break it to you, Ginger, but I’m not gonna wind up with her at the end of this. If you were banking on that—don’t.”
I swallow the rising bile in my throat. “I think you’ll find she’s the right person for you in the end.”
“What makes you think that?”
“She came back, didn’t she?”
“So did you.”
That stops me cold. My lungs clamp down so hard, I’m afraid they might never open again. I’ll die right here in Elliot’s guesthouse with all these emotions and unspoken words caught inside me.
He can’t mean he’d rather have me over someone like Jenna. Based on what ? The promising career I’ve been playing fast and loose with? My complete lack of restraint? The bitter resentment I carry over this entire process? He deserves better. I need to give him some space and time. Time to reconnect with Jenna. He’ll remember how right they are for each other, and Jenna will fight tooth and nail to keep him.
“I’m a placeholder, Elliot. You know that as well as I do. But she’s here now. She wants you more than ever—and she wants all those things that you came here looking for. Maybe it’s not fair to the other women, but you weren’t giving them a chance anyway. You missed her. Admit it.”
His mouth hangs half-open like he can’t make the words come out. “A placeholder?” he finally blurts.
“I get it, okay? Up until now, this hasn’t gone the way you expected. I may not have handled your disappointment as professionally as I should have considering the circumstances, but that’s all in the past now. We can both move on. You and I can both get what we came here for.”
He eliminates the space between us in less than a heartbeat. He takes me by the arms, giving me a little shake. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
I balk, offended. “Excuse me?”
His hands move, grabbing my head. His eyes search mine, nearly frantic. I don’t fight the urge to lean in. Can’t. All my worst instincts keep pushing me closer to him until our mouths meet in a crushing kiss. “If you had returned one fucking email—” He kisses me again.
I’m melting, partly from exhaustion, but mostly from his scorching heat. Never mind that anyone could walk in at any second. His kiss is a claiming, warm and soft and so deep it fills all my hollow places. Breaking away on a breath, I try to think my way out of it. “We aren’t—we can’t?—”
He shuts me up with the perfect pressure of his mouth, the obliterating sweep of his tongue. So right...
Did we had a chance? Would an email months ago have been all it took to have him for mine? For good? Would I have trusted it the way I can’t dare to now? I move away from him, unable to look him in the eye and see everything I ever dreamed of taking and having for myself—all my fantasies crushed by the reality of where we ended up. “It’s too late.”
“I don’t accept that.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and work to get my hair back in order. “It’s still the truth.”
Friday night is Elliot’s last elimination where The Panel save is in play.
No elimination night is the same. Occasionally it’s a formal ceremony in the gardens, sometimes it happens casually in The Panel’s room, and other times, like tonight, it’s designed around what comes next. The women always know when to show up, but they never know how it will unfold.
Tonight, after dinner, each woman will meet with The Panel, and they’ll either receive a plane ticket to Paris, or they won’t.
And— twist —Elliot won’t know who The Panel saves until she walks up to him afterward with a ticket to Paris in her hand and a smile on her face.
Elliot and Davis wait together on the bougainvillea-bedecked back patio for the final six women to arrive. Elliot is impossible to look at. In slim-fitting gray slacks and a white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone, he’s an erotic after-work fantasy. Sitting with an ankle on a knee in a casual slouch with an arm draped across the back of the sofa he and Davis share, my thoughts drift to the moments we’ve stolen, the passion we shared. That last kiss.
God, was it really the last?
“Here comes Cassie,” Davis says, his enthusiasm on point.
I look on from the edge of the patio as Elliot and Davis stand to greet Cassie as she bounds down the path, waving her ticket in the air. When she reaches the patio, she leaps at Elliot who catches her. She wraps her long legs around him while planting a big kiss on his cheek. It’s the most ostentatious display of affection on camera so far, and it’s nauseating how cute they are together.
“Paris? Are you freaking kidding me?” Her excitement puts one of the most genuine smiles on Elliot’s face I’ve ever seen—eye crinkles and all.
The embers of jealousy in my heart flare wild and bright. A bonfire of bitterness.
Elizabeth arrives next, then Hannah, Maggie, Daisy, and finally Jenna appears at the head of the path.
Elliot clears his throat as he waits to greet The Panel’s obvious save. He isn’t surprised. In fact, if I had to name the look on his face, I’d call it resigned.
Of course, Jenna has no idea Elliot tried to eliminate her, but everyone else does. The mood on the patio shifts awkwardly, complete silence descending.
Jenna fills the void with her scampering footsteps and helpless giggles as she hurries to get her own piece of Mr. Hale.
She doesn’t leap at him the way Cassie did, but instead falls into his arms before letting go a sob of relief at being chosen.
I study Elliot closely. His clenched jaw, his tense shoulders, and his gaze boring into the cobblestone. He’s resisting every second of this.
It’s not ideal from a production standpoint. We don’t want him cringing when one of the women approaches, least of all the woman America has a preexisting relationship with.
Give her a chance, Elliot.
How much Jenna wants this is obvious. Does it come off as desperate? Sure. But she’s doing something so many women only dream of being bold enough to do—go after the man she wants, no matter what. No matter how many Twitter trolls might hate her, no matter what her family must be thinking, no matter how badly her heart could be broken, Jenna wants him so much, it’s sure to be irresistible.
But tonight, Elliot resists.
“Thank you and The Panel for giving me another chance, Elliot. I feel like I’m in a dream. Being able to see you again and touch you.” She links a pinky with his, for emphasis, a gesture of theirs from her season.
He unlinks immediately. “We’ll see what happens. I have to take this process one step at a time.”
“Of course. I completely understand. But can I say one thing?”
Head tilted to the sky, Elliot takes a sharp breath before looking back down at Jenna.
“I would do absolutely anything to change what happened, but I have to think it was only an interruption. I love you. I love you so much, I can’t even imagine what it would be like to walk out of here without you. Thank you for giving us a chance to try again.”
Every word out of her mouth is like an icepick to my heart.
Elliot’s head shakes as he takes a step away from her. “We’ll see you on the plane tomorrow—I need—” He glances around, and his gaze finds me, pinning me down. “Are we done?”
Kat swoops in, wrapping an arm around Jenna’s. “Let’s chat.” Her voice is perky as she whisks Jenna up to the house before Elliot can decompensate further.
I consider pulling him aside to process off-camera but quickly dismiss the thought. We’re both wound up—potentially an explosive situation. Instead of interrupting the shot, I give Davis a firm nod to address the star’s agitation. The cameras are still rolling, and we could use the footage.
Davis springs to his feet. “Have a seat with me, buddy. Let’s talk about tonight.”
“I need a minute,” Elliot grumbles, reaching around his waistband to unclip his microphone.
I step in. “Let’s get through the night. I can see you’re emotional, but it’s better?—”
“Good TV, you mean?”
I adjust my expectations, lowering them significantly. “Have a seat. Let’s finish up.”
His glare takes on a shade of viciousness as he returns to the couch with his microphone battery pack in his lap. “What? What do you all want to know?”
Davis glances uneasily at me. I nod for him to get on with it.
“Why’d you react that way to Jenna?” Davis asks with none of his trademark suaveness. He’s edgy, too. Elliot is like that—his mood can permeate a room—or in this case—a hillside.
Elliot’s response is short and clipped. “She wasn’t my pick. None of this was my idea.”
“What is it about her that gets you so emotional?”
“I’m not answering that.”
“Elliot...” I warn.
His jaw clenches. “Next question.”
Davis clears his throat before changing the subject completely. “This isn’t your first time going to Paris?”
“No, Davis, it isn’t.”
“Any favorite spots?”
“I’ve got a few.”
This isn’t working. He isn’t going to cooperate, whether out of spite or because he’s too upset. Marlon’s voice barks through my headset: Fix this, Ginger.
“Elliot. A word.”
He bolts up from the couch like it’s suddenly a thousand degrees and charges toward the pool. I follow at a measured pace and remind myself I can do this. It’s my job.
“You want me to handle him?” Matt asks as I pass him on the lawn.
“I’ve got it. I’ll let you know when he’s ready.”
“Take ten everybody.”
Elliot paces the far edge of the pool, his hair a mess from what his overwrought hands have done to it. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence.
“I should have let you take a minute when you asked,” I say.
He stops walking, hands on his hips with his back to me. He’s breathing hard.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.”
I take a few steps closer, and reach a hand out to his upper back, but stop before it connects. “Do you want to talk, or do you need me to leave you alone?”
His next breath shudders. “I can’t do this.”
If I had a nickel… “Of course you can. You’ve been doing amazing.” This close to him, my entire body fills with the need to touch and have and hold. He’s my problem to solve. Mine.
I have to stop thinking that way.
“Drop your guard a little,” I say. “Let yourself feel whatever it is you’re fighting.”
He turns. Our gazes meet and hold, stealing the breath right out of my mouth. “Was any of it real?” he asks.
Anxiety spikes. “What do you mean?”
“Why did you shut me out after that night?”
The question puts my heart in serious danger of breaking.
All those emails he sent. The ones I ignored after the night at the Hilton. “I didn’t know how to reply to your messages, Elliot. I knew you’d be back. I knew you were looking for more, and we’d give you a chance for all of it. How could you say no?”
“I would have,” he whispers.
“I didn’t want you to.”
“So it was meaningless.”
“It was a fantasy,” I say, the words soft and true, and a lie all at the same time. “I have to think bigger than what I want in a moment. So do you. You have to see beyond all this. To what could be.”
His stare only grows more intense. More profound. Devastating. And then, in a flash of vivid color, I see something else—a future with him I’ve never allowed myself to picture. It isn’t full of babies and picket fences. It’s him, looking at me like this in some different venue in an imaginary place, and me knowing exactly what he’s thinking, able to sweep a thumb along his tense jawline and tell him it will all be okay. That we’re in it together.
God, I want that. I want to be the one he trusts with all his secrets, all his passion, all his days and nights. The only one. His match . It would be worth?—
The pool vent gurgles and spits beside me, snapping my mind back to reality. I look away from him, down at the rippling, illuminated water. Our courses are set. Signed in ink and locked down. There’s no way out that doesn’t involve some kind of ruin for us both.
“It isn’t impossible,” he says, like he’s reading my thoughts.
Heaviness settles in my chest. The weight of a million unrequited wishes. “It isn’t worth it.”
He closes in on me. Steps up until we’re nearly toe-to-toe, and I have my neck bent all the way back to look up at him. God, if anyone sees us like this...
“Do you have any idea how much I want you? The kind of thoughts I have when you’re this close? Do you have a clue how impossible it is for me to consider a future with any woman but you?”
His face blurs in my vision, his words like a drug. There’s no doubt in my mind he means every word, but does he understand what a confession like that does to me? How he’s ripping me in two? How am I supposed to choose? Is there a choice? I turn to face the dark valley. “I’m sorry.” The apology comes out choked, harsh.
“Sorry for what?”
“For not being able to say no. For wanting you...”
“How much do you want me, Ginger?”
I shake my head. “I can’t say...”
“Because I want you so much I’d do anything. I’d kiss you right now and end all of this .”
I hold up a hand, not to touch him, but to stop him from getting any closer. He’s already much too close. “It was just sex, Elliot.”
“Sex isn’t meaningless.” He says each word carefully with its own emphasis, making it sound like the deepest truth ever spoken. “Not with us,” he adds in a whisper.
And I’m supposed to walk away? From him ? Because he’s right. The sex is good—great—but there’s more to it. Even I know that, and I’ve been accused of having a walnut for a heart. I need to step back, but I’m physically rooted to this spot a foot from him with zero desire to be anywhere else on earth. “I don’t know what to do,” I say to the valley. “I don’t see a way...”
“I’ll find the way,” he says with so much conviction I almost believe he can.
“What if I’m not worth it?”
“What if we are? Spend one more night with me. In Paris. If at the end of it you can picture me with anyone else, I’ll do whatever you say.”
“And if I can’t?” Because that’s what I’m afraid of. One more night, and I’ll never be able to let him go.
His gaze heats at my unhinged question. “Then you leave the ending to me.”