Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You’re really just going to throw him into the show? No questions asked? I get absolutely no say?”
My feet padded against the cool tile flooring of the guesthouse kitchen. I had abandoned my “wedding dress” hours ago in favor of a pair of ratty sweatpants.
Emma looked on sympathetically. My mother was still there too, much to my irritation. She was supposed to go back to her hotel after filming, but with all the commotion she’d somehow weaseled her way into a production van and had inserted herself back into my space.
“As long as you don’t pick him, what’s the harm?” my mom asked, sipping on a glass of Chardonnay. “You’ve learned your lesson. All that man will do is drag you down.” Then she turned to Emma. “The wedding shots weren’t ruined, right? Everything will work out?”
Emma nodded with wide eyes and blew out a breath. “Oh, it worked out, alright. When we cut it all together, it’ll make one hell of an episode.”
“Which is why Brady called him, I’m sure,” I said bitterly.
But why had Danny agreed to show up? Had he really been so jealous at the idea of me getting married that he would get on a plane. Join the show?
My mind raced as my mother and Emma continued to talk. I had a hard time believing Danny’s intentions were pure. He said he still loved me. He said he’d called me. He even said he’d fight for me.
But he’d already walked away from me—twice.
Let me go like I was nothing. Trusting him again was impossible.
How could I? He’d hurt me. Badly. The kind of hurt that I still wasn’t sure how to bounce back from.
The kind of hurt only someone you’re head over heels for—borderline painfully in love with—can cause.
As soon as I’d laid eyes on him, everything had come flooding back. The wounds I’d been trying to lick clean were just as fresh as they were when he’d first inflicted them. I wasn’t over it. Not even a little.
“You’re not seriously still struggling to get over that man, are you?” my mom demanded as if reading my mind. “He’s not good enough for you. I clocked it the first moment I met him, and he’s only gotten worse since. He’s a neanderthal.”
I bit back a laugh. She absolutely had not clocked it the moment she’d met him.
When she and Danny had met briefly for family day on the set of Tough Love, she’d been immediately taken with his good looks.
She’d asked what I’d done to mess it all up.
Because—according to her—I was incapable of landing a man and getting him to stay.
It pained me that, so far, based on my track record, she’d been proven right.
“There’s no way I can finish the show now,” I said.
“Yes, you can.” Emma walked over to me and put soothing hands on my shoulders. “It’ll be okay. You’re going to come out of this whole mess way stronger.”
“I don’t feel very strong.”
My mother snorted. “Never have been.”
Emma locked eyes with me as mine started to fill with tears. The day had officially caught up with me.
“Rebecca, I think it’s time we arrange a ride back to your hotel,” Emma said cooly.
“What? No. I can just sleep here,” she said dismissively, still sipping her wine.
“Unfortunately, you can’t,” Emma said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Contracts and all. We appreciate you coming for the episode, but now it’ll have to be Trace here, by herself.”
“Thank you,” I mouthed silently to Emma.
The word “contract” was the quickest way to get my mother to do anything. She set her glass down on the coffee table in a huff and walked upstairs to gather her overnight bag and the few toiletries she had strewn about the bathroom.
On her way out, my mother pointed at me. “Give them a good ending, Tracy? Okay? This could make or break your career. We’ve got a lot to discuss once you’re out of here.”
“Got it,” I mumbled, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as she stepped outside.
“You okay?” Emma asked.
Sometimes it was a little too easy to forget that she was a producer on the show.
Brady was simple to keep compartmentalized—he was very obviously a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Emma, on the other hand, seemed genuine.
Too genuine for reality TV. Then again, it could all be an act; befriend me so that I trust her and she can better manipulate me.
I hated all the mind games. No one would ever convince me to do one of these shows ever again. Unless I got offered a gig judging a singing competition or something…God forbid I actually get offered a show about my interests or passions for a change.
I sighed. “I’m alright. Just tired.”
Emma looked behind her to ensure the door had completely shut. She shrugged off the brown leather backpack she always wore and dug around inside it for a minute before producing a small glass bottle. Whiskey.
“I think you could use a drink.”
“Despite what country songs might lead you to believe, I am not a big fan of whiskey.”
She shrugged. “Take it or leave it. It was the only thing I could swipe from the catering crew on our way out of the venue today.”
I tilted my head, only considering it for half a second. “Hit me,” I said, tapping the counter.
Emma fumbled around the kitchen before producing two frosted glasses with “My Dream Vacation is With You” printed on them. Ice clinked in the glass before she poured two small splashes of the amber liquid and shoved one drink in my direction.
“Is this even allowed?” I asked, taking a grateful sip anyway. It burned in the best possible way. “Brady isn’t going to bust down the door and have us arrested or something, is he?”
“As much as he probably thinks his word is gospel, having a drink is barely an infringement of the rules. You aren’t filming right now.”
I took another small sip. The warmth in my throat settled the anxiety still roaring in my chest.
“That was a lot today.” She massaged her forehead, her elbows perched on the counter.
“Did you know?” I demanded, setting the glass down.
“Yes.” She winced and took another sip. “But I swear I had no idea what Brady had planned. He mentioned an ex of yours might make an appearance at the wedding. He alluded to it being Danny, but he didn’t share details.
He probably didn’t want anyone leaking it to those spoiler websites.
I had no idea it would be quite so dramatic. ”
I groaned. “I didn’t even want that weird, unnecessarily extravagant wedding date. And to think he orchestrated it all just to have Danny crash it.”
Emma pursed her lips. “He certainly has a vision.”
I snorted. “If that’s what you want to call it.”
We sipped in silence. My legs were curled up beneath me on one of the pleather stools that lined the island, and my mind raced in that frantic way where not a single coherent thought came through front and center.
“You looked like you saw a ghost when he walked in,” Emma finally said.
“Sure felt like it.” The image of him storming toward me would be forever seared into my brain—his body heaving, his shirt stretched tight over his chest, his eyes dark as they stared down at me like I still owed him something.
“Tough Love filmed a while ago.” She paused and looked me up and down. “But you still aren’t over him, are you?”
“Don’t I seem over him? I’m fine. Really.” I threw on my best fake smile.
“Was that really it between you two? The show and then the reunion were all there was? It seems like there’s more there.”
“Just the show,” I said, still not completely trusting Emma. She could tell I was holding back, because she tipped her head to the side.
“Come on, Trace. This is just us. I’m not producing right now. You can trust me. I won’t use anything you say for the show.”
“I’m sorry, Emma,” I said, pushing the glass of whiskey away. “You’ve been nothing but nice to me, and maybe in some alternate universe we could be friends. But I can’t trust you. Not when I know you have a whole agenda to get the best storyline out of me.”
“That’s Brady’s agenda,” she insisted. “I didn't even want this job.”
I shifted toward her in my seat, ears perking up with interest. I’d lumped her in with him, as another vulture just trying to get the best possible show. Maybe I’d been reading her wrong all along.
She downed the rest of her drink. “I used to be an executive assistant on a courtroom show. It was my first real entertainment job. Then I worked with Brady on another reality show years back, Divas in Diapers—the show got canceled. The horrendous name is a great indicator as to why.
“Anyway—” she shook her head—“I’d been doing mostly assistant work when Brady called and asked if I’d join this show as a junior producer.
It was a pay raise, and it would look good on my resume.
Plus, once it had your name attached to it, it seemed less like another silly show.
I thought…maybe I could use this job to get to something else.
A sitcom. A soap. Something scripted. I want to be a showrunner eventually.
But working with real people like this? Trying to trick them into saying something juicy or get them into compromising positions?
” She shivered. “It literally gives me hives. I hate it.”
I laughed. “You picked the wrong job.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve basically sold my soul to Brady. I’m so sick of sucking up to him in the hopes that he’ll give me a good recommendation.”
I frowned, fully taking in how miserable Emma looked. It dawned on me then that she was just as trapped as I was.
“He’ll give you a good recommendation,” I said.
“You think?”
“Well, up until this moment I definitely thought that you secretly got joy out of manipulating me, so that’s a checkbox in the ‘you’re doing a good job’ column.”
She laughed and held up her glass. I clinked mine against hers.
Then my stomach churned—almost as if my body was physically begging me to open up. I took a giant sip and braced myself.
“There is more to Danny and me than what you saw on Tough Love,” I admitted.
“Oh?” She sat up, now at full attention.
I found the entire story tumbling from my lips.
His cabin.
Staying with him for nearly a month.
Our conversations about our future.
And how he let it all go— how he threw it in my face and walked away.
“And now he’s here. Asking for another chance as if he hasn’t cast me aside twice now. How unbelievably stupid would I have to be to entertain any of this?” I drained my glass, ignoring the headache that had started to creep in behind my eyes.
“I can’t believe he did that,” she murmured. “I mean, the way he looked at Tripp and you? I thought we might have a boxing match on our hands instead of a dating show. No offense to Tripp, but I thought he was a goner.”
“Danny is possessive until the moment he decides he doesn’t want his toy anymore.”
“He certainly seems to want you.”
“For now.”
For the sake of my sanity, I needed to believe that was true—that Danny had just gotten jealous, and this was all for show. He’d just break my heart again.
Unfortunately for me, his words from the closet still spun relentlessly in my mind.
That he’d been calling me constantly at first, but I’d blocked him.
I knew he’d tried to call me on Jaylon’s and Barrett’s phones, but I’d just figured it was some twisted way for him to seek forgiveness, to apologize and absolve himself. I’d wanted no part of it.
Then he’d said he’d tried to see me on tour. That had been a surprise. Was he lying? Had my mother stopped him from seeing me and not mentioned it? I wouldn’t put it past her. It seemed exactly like something she’d do.
Would any of it have made a difference? How weak was I for even having these thoughts?
“I just want it to be over,” I whispered. The drama of today had finally taken its toll. Exhaustion had swallowed me whole.
“Only one more week in this hell hole,” Emma said.
A laugh escaped me hearing those words come out of her mouth. She wasn’t the pod-person producer I’d originally feared her to be.
Emma got up and set down her empty glass. She made no move to take the bottle as she packed up, and I said a silent thanks. I’d definitely be stashing the rest of it away for when I inevitably needed to unwind again.
She turned back to me before leaving. “Get some sleep. We’ve got a group date planned for tomorrow. Your call is bright and early.”
I groaned. “Seriously?”
She laughed. “It won’t be that bad. It’s a fun activity, promise.”
“I’ve heard that one before.”
“Get some rest, okay?” She walked toward the front door, hand cradling the doorknob. “And Trace…” her voice trailed off.
“What?” I asked
“I just…I know I don’t know everything you and Danny went through. And I know we just met. But the way he looked at you…your reaction to him…it was electric. It’s the kind of chemistry that people making TV—scripted or not—dream about. I don’t think you can ignore that.”
She was right. I couldn’t ignore it. It was impossible. I was already failing miserably.
We said goodnight, and she left me alone to curl up on the couch, too tired to make the ascent to my bed. It probably still smelled like my mother’s perfume anyway. Roses. That smell turned my stomach.
Danny showing up again had thrown a wrench in my plans. Because even if I didn’t pick him—if I ignored him, sent him home, and never talked to him again—it would all be a lie. I could say I was over him all I wanted, but I wasn’t.
“Shit,” I groaned out loud, flipping over on the couch so that I could stuff my face into the back cushion. I needed to be stronger than this. I was stronger than the girl who kept letting in the man who hurt her, somehow expecting a different outcome.
But the way my heart had pulled toward him the second I laid eyes on him was pure instinct.
Who was I kidding?
I was completely screwed.