Chapter 7 #2
Ignoring her, I continued to walk around the house, observing the kitchen that I likely wouldn’t be using much of, since all cast meals were catered.
“There’s no cameras here, are there?” I asked.
Brady shook his head. “No. All cameras will be handled by operators on this show. There is one ceiling-mounted camera in the main living area in the main house, but that’s it. This place is purely for you to unwind and get some rest.”
“Amazing,” I said, relieved.
“I’ll let you get unpacked. Feel free to wear whatever you want for the interview—something stylish, yet casual. If you need, you might be able to find a top in wardrobe. We’ll have hair and makeup on standby to touch you up. I’ll come knock in about an hour.”
“Sounds good.”
Mom was still upstairs, opening every drawer. Brady cleared his throat. “Rebecca, can I walk you back to your car?”
She peered over the ledge. “Already? I figured I could stay for dinner.”
“Cast and crew only, I’m afraid,” he said with a feigned pout.
She let out a huff and stomped down the stairs. “What if I need to talk to my daughter?”
“If it’s an emergency, you can call me.” Brady’s smile was tight-lipped.
She let out a dramatic sigh. “You be good, hun. Do everything Brady says.”
“Of course.”
She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek, but one of those ones where her lips didn’t actually make contact with my skin.
“I know it feels like an impossible task for you, but can you please do us all a favor and find a damned husband? If you can’t make this work, is there really any hope?”
Brady’s smile dropped as he looked between the two of us.
“I’ll try my best.” I gave her a thumbs up.
All the tension released from my shoulders as Brady walked my mother outside and past the gate.
The couch beckoned me like a long-lost friend, and I didn’t resist falling back into it.
It had already been a long day and there was no end in sight.
The surreal fact that I was back on the set of a TV show hadn’t quite sunk in yet.
The fact that I’d be meeting twelve guys tomorrow also hadn’t sunk in.
Maybe this would be exciting. Maybe I’d look back on my life in a few decades and think of this as the moment that changed everything for me. But all the optimistic thoughts in the world couldn’t quite suppress the dread building in my gut.
“How do you feel at the thought of meeting all these guys tomorrow?” Emma asked.
She was the associate producer and had collected me for interviews about two hours ago.
She was about my age with a soft intensity about her.
Serious, yet kind. Her dark, chin-length hair fell into her face as she leaned over her tablet to take notes.
When she looked back up, I couldn’t help but notice that she had friendly, trustworthy eyes.
Dangerously trustworthy eyes…
“I still can’t believe all of these guys are here just to meet me. But…I’m excited.”
“Not nervous at all?”
“I mean a little—”
“Sorry, can you say the word nervous in your answer?” Emma interrupted.
“Oh, right, sure.” The lights on top of the cameras were baking me. They’d wanted to film outside to get the beach as my backdrop. Nothing like Florida in June, said no one ever. The humidity coated my skin like a second layer, but at least there was a breeze whipping off the water.
“Um, yeah, I’m a little nervous. You know, thoughts running through my head and all. What if they don’t like me? What if I don’t like them? But I’m sure they’re great guys, and I just can’t wait to meet them.”
“Do you feel ready to move on? Can you talk a bit about your last televised heartbreak?”
My face froze for a nanosecond, but I couldn’t let them see me sweat. Apparently, all those years of pageants had been good for one thing after all: staying composed.
“Obviously, reality TV and I don’t have the best track record,” I joked. “But I’m so over that.”
Lies.
“It feels like a million years ago.”
Lies.
“I’m ready to move on and find someone who’s actually a good fit for me.”
That was at least partially true. But unfortunately, the desire to move on didn’t always come with the ability to do it.
“That’s great, Trace,” Emma said, standing. “I’m sorry about the intrusive questions, but a lot of Tough Love viewers are going to be tuning in to this. Danny is going to be a bit of a topic of conversation. At least at first.”
“No worries.” I’d figured as much. Didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Well, that’s all we have for you. You should grab a takeaway box from the food delivery table and bring it to your room to rest. Big day of filming tomorrow.”
“Right.” I gave her a smile.
She hesitated, lingering near me as the camera operators packed up. “You ready? For real?” she asked in a low voice.
“Of course.” I tried to keep my answer light and airy, not show the nervous energy weaving its way directly through my veins.
“Let me know if you need anything else. Seriously. I’ll be around the house for another hour or so.”
“Thanks, Emma. It was nice meeting you.”
I snuck over to the food table and grabbed a box as quickly as possible.
The last thing I wanted was to be stopped for a conversation.
But as the crew moved around the yard, prepping for the show, I felt a lot like I was invisible.
No one needed me while they were setting up lighting or moving furniture. I might as well be a prop.
Back in my little guesthouse I could almost pretend like none of this was real. That I was just at home about to turn on a cheesy television show.
But I was banned from watching TV, and they’d already taken my phone.
On the coffee table there were a few sudoku puzzles and some ancient romance novels.
They probably thought it’d be good to leave those for me.
If the only entertainment offered to me was reading about people falling in love, then maybe I’d be more desperate to find it for myself.
I sighed and picked up one with the least faded cover.
A man in an unbuttoned flowing white shirt grabbed onto the waist of a woman who had a yellowing price tag over her face.
I snorted at the irony. That’s exactly what I felt like here—someone who only mattered because of the value I’d bring. Not a real person.
I hadn’t felt like a real person in a while.