29. Twenty-Nine
twenty-nine
ELLIOT
The hotel room intended for private interviews contains only a sofa, a chair, stationary lighting, and camera equipment. When Matt shows Cassie in, I stand. After she checks to make sure all the cameras are off, I indicate a spot on the other side of the couch for her to sit.
I keep my distance. God only knows what she thinks of me. All Matt told me was the story— Cassie thinks I slept with a hooker in Paris. “Thank you for coming,” I say as we sit.
She won’t look at me.
“I know you want to leave.”
“I don’t want to leave. I am leaving. As soon as this bullshit conversation is over, I’m going to the airport.”
“Then I need to tell you something.”
The nondisclosure agreement in all our contracts is extensive. Every participant on the show is legally bound not to breathe a single word about anything that happens during production until a full year after the show airs. Obviously people have broken the rules before, but they also got sued. The attorneys at Matched don’t mess around.
Cassie was genuinely shocked and hurt last night. Her honest reaction proved to me that her intentions here are good. I’ve liked her since the moment we met—now I have to trust her.
“I wasn’t with a prostitute yesterday.”
She sneaks a glance at me, her eyes wary and cold.
“I was with Ginger.”
She squints like she’s having trouble reading the fine print. “ Jenna , right? You said Ginger.”
“I meant Ginger.”
She gapes. “The producer?”
I don’t respond immediately, trying to gauge what I should say next based on the vigor of her reaction.
“You were with Ginger ?” she asks again.
“And it wasn’t the first time,” I add.
“What? Holy— what ?”
I give her a second to let it sink in.
By the way she covers her heart with her hand and leans back into the sofa, I can’t tell if sleeping with Ginger is better or worse on Cassie’s morality scale than hiring a Parisian prostitute.
“Why are you telling me this?”
I run my sweating palms down my pants legs, gearing myself up to go all in. “I don’t even know how to say this...”
“Well, you better say something because I’m about to freak the fuck out. You’ve been screwing the producer the whole time? What kind of a joke is this place? Is it always like this? You think you can invite women on here, get them to put their lives on hold to see if they’re right for you, and you go and do whatever the fuck you want? Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blow this whole thing up right now!”
“I’m in love with her.”
“That’s it? That’s your reason? Sorry, dude. That’s not good enough.”
“I don’t want her to lose her job—I don’t want anyone to get hurt here—there’s been enough of that already. I love her, and I need—” I cut myself off, not entirely sure what I need or what to tell Cassie.
“I need a way out of this,” I finally mutter.
“Just quit then,” she says, still clearly pissed.
“I can’t walk away as easy as you get to, all right? There’s no escape clause in my contract. Mine’s airtight.”
“Well, what do you want me to do about it?”
My plan only works if she’s on board. All in. “I want you to go to the end with me.”
“Pardon?”
Everything about this sucks. I get that. But maybe it could suck a little bit less if we both get something out of it. I’d have an actual, real-world chance to be with Ginger, and Cassie would get a house, at the very least.
Whether Ginger would approve or not isn’t a question I’m prepared to deal with yet, but if Cassie agrees, maybe I can convince Ginger to go along with it.
“The Panel wants me with Jenna. My sister wants it, Michelle really wants it. The only thing is— I don’t want it. They think I’m pissed she’s here because I’m fighting repressed feelings for her?—”
“We all think you’re fighting repressed feelings for her. She does, too. More than the rest of us do, even. Wasn’t it Ginger’s idea to bring her back?”
I wave a hand between us to erase the reminder. “Look—if I end up with Jenna after all this, I’m gonna leave her. I don’t want to be with her—she’ll have done all of this for nothing, and it’ll seriously mess with her. I don’t want that. I might not love her anymore, but I care about her. I care about you, too.”
Cassie tugs at the hem of her skirt, squirming like she can’t get comfortable. “You don’t think this is messing with me ?”
“Cass, I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. All I can say is my intentions were good when this started. I fucked up. And you don’t deserve any of this.”
She stares at the door, but she isn’t leaving yet, so...
“I could never have this conversation with Jenna. She and I can’t team up to outwit this system. You and I can, though. You can have the house. You can have the money—I’ll even take all the heat for the breakup.”
She slides a curious glance my way. “And what do you get? Ginger?”
“I just want out of this. As quickly and painlessly as possible?—”
“This isn’t painless,” she snaps. “I actually wanted you.”
Oof.
She lets the comment sit for a minute. Long enough for me to understand I’m an even bigger piece of shit than I thought.
“If you break up with me, you think they’d let me star in the next season?”
So, she is considering it. “I’ve got no control over that,” I admit.
“Ginger might.”
“I’d rather Ginger didn’t know about this yet.”
“Why? You afraid she’s not as ‘in love’ as you are?” She exaggerates the words, adding air quotes and everything.
I grimace. Of course I’m afraid of that. Trying to game the show could be a useless exercise, but it could still accomplish a couple things—it would get me off the show unattached and save Ginger’s job. Whether she still wants anything to do with me afterward is anyone’s guess, but at least we’d have a shot. “I’ll talk to her. Does this mean you’ll do it?”
“What do I have to do...exactly?”
“Act like you’re falling in love with me. Like we’re compatible as fuck.”
She gives me a slow blink. I can’t tell whether it’s sarcastic or not. “What if we are compatible? Wildly?”
“Cassie...I like you. I have since day one. I’m not a huge fan of your family, but I think you turned out great. You’re gorgeous, fun—any guy would be lucky to have you. But my heart’s somewhere else.”
She lets out a huge sigh and slumps against the back of the couch, dropping all her poise. “Story of my life. But I’ve never been dumped like this.”
“Is that a yes?”
“On one other condition.”
“Name it.”
“I want the challenge with you tonight. If at the end of it I think I can pull this off without my heart getting smeared all over the Rue d’whatever, then I’ll do it.”
Her concession relieves me beyond measure. “I’d hug you, but?—”
She holds up a hand. “Yeah. Don’t.”
Before the challenge tonight, I need to find Ginger and explain my plan. If all goes well, a lot of people are going to be getting the wrong idea about me and Cassie. I need to be sure Ginger isn’t one of them.
Without a clue where to look for her, I head for the lobby. The elevator doors slide open seconds after I push the down button to reveal Jenna, my sister, and Michelle recovering from a laugh.
“Elliot! Hey!” Natalie grabs my arm and pulls me inside the car. “Where are you headed?”
“Going for a walk.”
I don’t like the three of them together. It’s a bad sign.
“Us, too! Join us!” Jenna unleashes that million-dollar smile, and I wish I stayed in my room. I glance at Michelle, but she avoids eye contact, instead staring at the panel of buttons near the door.
They arrange themselves so that I’m standing next to Jenna. She makes sure her arm is in constant contact with mine. Our hands brush against each other, and I twitch away. I’m not sure when she became repulsive, and that might not be the exact right word, but I am somewhat repulsed—in the scientific sense of the word.
“Are you falling in love with Paris all over again?” she asks. “I am.”
“Every time,” I mumble.
“Oh my God, same. Natalie and I took a walk on the Seine last night with the Eiffel Tower lit up, and I was like— this — this is everything.”
I glance down at Natalie, who makes a show of feigning nonchalance. Jenna hanging out with any members of my Panel is categorically unfair to the other women. Seems I’m not the only one breaking the rules.
“Jenna wanted to show me where the good pastries are,” my sister explains.
“Uh-huh.”
The doors open on the ground floor, and like a magnet drawing my gaze, I spot Ginger on a couch near the street window, examining her laptop screen. I step into the lobby. “I’ve been looking for her. Excuse me.”
“Want us to wait for you?” Jenna asks.
Apparently, there are no rules in Paris. “You go ahead.” I’m already halfway across the floor.
Ginger looks up as I approach, then she quickly scans the room. She frowns when she spots Jenna, Natalie, and Michelle heading toward the revolving glass doors. “What’s that about?” she asks me, waving a hand their way.
“Why aren’t you returning my texts?”
“They weren’t urgent.”
“Are you still producing me or not?”
Her mouth twists ruefully. “Honestly, I’m not sure. I’m kind of wondering who’s producing me at this point.”
I almost laugh, but nothing about her situation is funny. “Can we go for a walk?”
She looks from me to the ladies as they stride ever closer to the hotel doors. “I need a minute.”
She takes off for the front. I follow slowly, staying a few steps behind and stopping short of joining her at her side when she puts a hand on Jenna’s shoulder to stop them. “What are you doing?” she asks.
Jenna meets Ginger’s gaze with wide-eyed innocence. “We had a few hours to sightsee.”
“You need to get back to your room. This isn’t on your schedule.”
Jenna appears to weigh the odds of winning the fight before deciding she has zero standing. Without an argument, she lets out an exaggerated sigh and heads back to the elevators.
Ginger barely seems to register her departure as she faces off with Michelle and Natalie. Apparently, Jenna was only the warm-up act. “What the hell do you two think you’re doing?”
Michelle, who rarely backs down from a challenge, moves to stand between Natalie and Ginger. “We were going for a walk in Paris.”
“With one of our women. Who said you could do that?”
Michelle’s answering smile is cold. I inch slightly closer, afraid I might need to intervene. Michelle’s temper is no joke.
My best friend speaks. “We have a job to do here for Elliot. We were doing it.”
Ginger goes toe-to-toe with Michelle and lowers her voice. “Your job is to choose who’s right for Elliot. Based on their interactions with Elliot . Not to pick out who’s the most fun to go shopping with. This isn’t about you , Michelle. You came here for him .”
A sudden expansion in the area of my chest causes me to heave in a deep breath.
Michelle blinks first in the standoff, with no ready comeback to Ginger’s reprimand.
Ginger takes the advantage. “Interactions here are limited by design. You don’t get to pick and choose your favorites and disadvantage the rest of the cast.” She points a finger in my direction. “He’s the only one that matters. Your favorites don’t count. Either you start paying attention to what he needs, or I’ll have Lavonne make the final pick. Understand?”
Michelle’s lips thin into a tight line. She glances at me, but I’m just as blown back by Ginger’s words as she appears to be. “You’re right,” she says.
Ginger gestures toward the revolving doors. “Enjoy your day then, ladies. This doesn’t happen again.”
Without another word, Michelle and Natalie turn and leave the hotel. Ginger pulls out her phone and begins angry-texting someone, the tips of her thumbs banging the screen.
“Thank you,” I say, but it’s barely more than a whisper.
“You’re welcome,” she mutters as she fires off the text.
“I can’t remember the last time?—”
A sudden clap shuts me up, even as my heart is set to explode in my chest, full of so much love and gratitude, I don’t know how I’m still managing to take in enough air to breathe.
“Hey—you two.” Kat hurries toward us. “What is this?”
I clear my throat, trying to make room for words alongside all the feelings choking me. “I was talking to my producer.”
“Why? What do you need? Your schedule? We had one sent to you this morning.”
“I wanted to?—”
“Uh-uh. Nope.” Kat points at the elevator. “Away with you. I don’t want you two alone again for the rest of production. Elliot, if you need something, you contact me.”
“What am I supposed do?” Ginger asks her. “Sit on the sidelines and watch?”
“You and I can discuss that privately.”
“ I’d like to discuss what Jenna was doing out of her hotel room all set to wander the streets of Paris with half The Panel on their own in the middle of the day,” Ginger says instead.
Kat’s head jerks back. “Excuse me?”
“Meaning—you have your own job to do. I can handle mine.”
“Oh? That’s what you two have been doing together? Your job? Want me to ask Marlon what he thinks about the extra hours you’re putting in?”
My fight or flight kicks in as I prepare for Ginger’s reaction to Kat’s threat. True to form, a glacial mask moves across her face, guard up. Her voice is ice cold. “Elliot, excuse us, please. Check your schedule. We’ll see you later.”
I take my time walking away. Meanwhile the tension mounts like a tide behind me. This was my one chance to tell Ginger about my arrangement with Cassie before the challenge tonight, but she’s unreachable for the foreseeable future. Even with everyone who matters knowing the truth about us, I’m further from having her than ever.
Cassie gives me a promising smile as we wrap up our Eiffel Tower photo scavenger hunt. On the third level, the nighttime lights of Paris glitter with the promise of adventure and new beginnings. Cassie looks beautiful, her blond curls spilling over her shoulders, and her dimples on full display.
I face her as we lean on the railing. “What city do you dream of visiting?”
She sighs like she’s in heaven up there. “It’s gonna sound stupid, but I’ve never been to New York.”
“That’s not stupid.”
“You’ve been a million times, I assume.”
“Just for work. Never to hang out and explore. But I like it.”
“Could you live there?” she asks as she snaps another photo of the view.
“I figure I could live anywhere—” Here goes. I give her hand a small tug. “With the right person.”
She looks up at me, stars in her eyes and everything.
“Who is the right person for you?”
I’m so glad Ginger isn’t here to witness this. It’s the one small mercy this season has shown me so far. “I feel like I get closer to knowing that every minute.” I layer the words with extra weight and meaning, channeling all the intensity of my feelings for Ginger into my expression. “Tonight’s been amazing, Cass.”
“Agreed.”
Time to lay it on a little thicker. “I know none of this is easy for you. I know you left a lot behind to be here, but I’m glad you came. I feel like we really get each other.”
She steps in closer, so close her sweater grazes my jacket. “Do any of us even have a chance with you anymore?”
“You mean because Jenna’s here?”
She keeps her eyes unguarded, allowing me to answer any way I need to.
“ You do,” I say in a whisper, as intimately as possible.
“Elliot...” She brings a hand to my face, her eyes filling with tears.
I can’t tell anymore how much of it is an act and how much is sincere. How many people will I hurt when this comes to a disastrous end? Before I can take a breath to respond, her lips are on mine, attempting to tease them apart as her arms wrap around my shoulders.
Shit. No, no, no, no, no. Ginger can never, ever see this.
Before things get any worse, I turn my head, my mouth brushing Cassie’s cheek. I pull her into a tight hug and breathe a sigh of relief. I need to find Ginger. Soon. To explain. Because if everybody doesn’t get on the same page fast, my plan might blow up in my face.