Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
“A wedding?”
“Not really a wedding per se.” Brady put air quotes around the words and Emma hung back, chewing her bottom lip as she watched my reaction.
They were both in the living room of my small guesthouse.
We were filming another elimination tonight in which Jeremy would go home, leaving the final five of Grant, Tripp, Christian, Isaac, and (unfortunately) Austin.
I was surprised when Brady knocked on my door hours before I had to be ready, but I should have known it was something I wouldn’t like.
“That seems absolutely ridiculous.”
“It won’t be real, obviously,” he added quickly, like I was being the unreasonable one.
“It’ll be like a picture-your-future-with-each-of-the-guys type of date.
We’ll do a wedding with one, then have you take care of a fake baby with one of the guys.
We can set up some house tours to do a pretend house-hunting date.
We can even bring your mother in for a little “meet Mom” moment with one of them. ”
I groaned. Having my mother here was the last thing I wanted. I was actually surprised she hadn’t already found a way to sneak onto the set. But it had only been a week. I had faith she would be jumping over the fence before the finale.
“What about a music-themed date instead? I could teach the guys how to play guitar, or we could do karaoke? Something to show that side of me?” I should’ve known that no matter what I said, Brady would be doing whatever the hell he pleased.
He frowned and tilted his head. “That’s a little… boring. Besides, a wedding will be great for promo. You in a white dress, walking down the aisle. Just picture it.” He held up his hands into the empty air, creating a box and looking through it.
My pulse quickened, although I should be used to my lack of control by now. “Isn’t that misleading?” I asked.
“TV shows do it all the time. Besides, if we do it with Tripp, and he’s actually the final guy who proposes in the end, the audience will still eat it up.”
I could feel my eyes bulge at his words.
“Excuse me? Pr-propose?”
Brady shrugged. “I mean, no guarantee, but we should start preparing for that now. You and Tripp have great chemistry. Way better than we hoped.”
“We’ve barely had a conversation!” My voice came out all high pitched and funny to my own ears. I turned to Emma for help, the only sane person on this crew.
She stepped forward. “Right, well, it’s obviously very soon, but it’s not like you have to actually get married right away. And a proposal is great for ratings and your image, if you do decide to do it.”
A fake wedding. A proposal. Suddenly it was a thousand degrees in this house. I wanted to get out, to hop the fence and run with my feet burning on the white-hot sand, straight into the water.
“I can’t do this,” I nearly choked out.
“Emma, get her a glass of water,” Brady instructed with a flick of his wrist, before putting a gentle, guiding hand to my shoulder and pushing me back onto the gray couch behind me.
“Hey, just take a breath. This isn’t a big deal.”
“Isn’t a big deal,” I repeated, shaking my head. How could he say that? This was my life.
“Look, the wedding and all the fake-real-life stuff is happening. But it’s fake.
It’ll be like any other date. You and Tripp will laugh, share some googly eyes, and then have some champagne and cake while you dance at the fake reception.
It’ll truly be no big deal, and you’ll get to wear an absolutely stunning white dress.
As for the proposal, we can marinate on that.
Okay? Nothing is set in stone. Don’t get worked up. ”
Emma rushed to my side and handed me a glass of ice water, condensation collecting on the outside. I gulped it down in a few swigs.
“Everything will be fine, Trace. You’ll see.”
“It really will,” Emma said, shooting me a look that offered at least a little comfort.
I trusted her, despite my better judgement, but everything still felt so wrong.
Even though I hated the direction this show was taking, everyone expected me to just nod and go along with it like the sweet girl I was.
No’s kept getting caught in my throat, over, and over, and over again. It was like one of those dreams where you’re screaming at the top of your lungs but no sound ever comes out. I was on a treadmill going nowhere. I wanted to pull the emergency stop, but someone else was controlling everything.
Brady smiled. It looked more condescending than friendly. I wanted to wipe it clean off his face. But instead, I shoved all thoughts of fake weddings and real proposals aside, and said, “Alright.”
Brady clapped and went on and on about how stunning I’d look while Emma shot me apologetic glances.
It better be one killer dress.