Chapter 6
Lyra
I
have two days to prepare for being the Suitorette.
I actually had three weeks, but I’m in Saint Pierre for only two days before we start filming.
And it won’t be televised for another month, to allow the producers and editors and everyone else involved can work their magic to take it from hours of boring video to an emotional, drama-filled, must-watch happily ever after starring yours truly.
In those two days, I’ve never had so many cameras pointing at me, and I’m a princess.
This is after the “make-over” that my team is tasked with performing.
I like to think I’m fairly consistent in my grooming so there’s not much outward difference when they finish with me, but the hours I spend being pricked and prodded should have resulted in some sort of transformation rather than looking like I just got a glow-up.
I have my hair cut and styled. A facial and a full-body scrub. My teeth are whitened and brightened.
Mani, pedi, and everything waxed. Then they touch up my tan with a spray.
While all this is going on, I have producers, Rue and Ria to keep me company. Grayson shows up occasionally, depending on how much privacy I need. The women don’t give me that consideration.
Luckily, I quite like them both and having them around isn’t a big deal. Except Rue must have a Mrs. Theissen gene because she feels the need to instruct me about everything Suitor-related.
It’s helpful because as we get close to filming, I start to feel a little nervous. It’s an unusual sensation for me. I do my best to push it down because I’m definitely not about to admit to anyone that I’m scared.
When I’m getting my hair cut, Grayson offers to show me pictures of the men, but I turn him down because I think it might make me feel worse.
What if I don’t like any of them? What if I’m attracted to all of them? What if they don’t like me and all decide to leave?
I don’t share those thoughts either.
“If I start looking at them, I’ll start sending them home now,” I tell Grayson in a light and bright voice that is nothing like the queasy uneasiness inside my head. “And that won’t be good for the show.”
“If you’re sure.” Grayson frowns. “You don’t think it’ll be a good idea to prepare? Make some early decisions?”
“What am I supposed to prepare for? Hey, I don’t like the way you look, go home? I may have the shallow, materialistic vibe, but it takes more than a funny-looking nose for me to turn a guy down.”
“I don’t get that vibe at all,” Grayson protests.
I smile slyly at him. “Then I must be doing something wrong.”
I know what the world thinks of me. People get the impression I’m all about the party, the wilder the better. That I like pretty, shiny things. That I’m high-maintenance and always need to get my own way.
And to be honest, I’ve never really given anyone an opportunity to see anything different.
According to Kate, that’s what I’m supposed to do on the show, and that’s what is making my stomach tighten into a little ball. I’m supposed to be open and honest about my feelings. Vulnerable. Show the real me.
And the thought of that is making me quiver like a little girl as the curtain rises on her first ever dance recital.
I—Lyra Bodil Selena Sif Erickson—am nervous. Who would have thought?
There are a few arguments when it comes to the gown I’ll wear when I meet the men. The show wants me in a frothy, pink, princess dress, with enough tulle to outfit an entire ballet school.
I don’t do pink and frothy. Makes me think of the unicorn foam back home at Coffee for the Sole.
Ria comes up with a compromise: it’s a ballgown, but it’s a dark indigo, with jet-black and silver beads and sequins scattered over the heavy fabric. It’s fitted at the top but flares out at the waist, held up by tiny, glittery straps.
I’m the night sky. The dark princess rather than the fairy tale version. I am Elphaba, not Glinda.
I like it.
They set up an entire suite at the hotel for me, and I have a blessed few moments by myself before the men will arrive in their cavalcade of limousines. I spent most of this reprieve staring at myself in a full-length mirror, trying to convince myself that someone will find me lovable.
It’s not as easy as it should be.
Outwardly, I look amazing. Alexa, my stylist, is a wizard with a makeup brush and she’s highlighted everything that needs to be and hides the details that don’t need to be seen. My hair, falling to my shoulders in soft waves, is almost back to my natural reddish blonde.
Strawberry blonde, my mother used to call it.
My mother…
I can never predict when it hits me, the wave of grief that feels as fresh as it was when I woke up in the hospital and Spencer told me she was gone.
I miss my mother. I miss her every single day. Some days are good, and I can be happy and social. Normal. Some are not, and I prefer to be by myself. But some days, I really, really wish she were still here, so much that there is an ache in my chest.
Today is one of those days.
I stare at myself in the mirror, my lips with the slick of Taylor Swift-red lipstick, quirking and pursing like I’m sucking on a sour candy.
No candy. I’m just trying not to cry.
“I’m doing this thing, Mom,” I whisper into the quiet room. “I wish you were here. Or maybe I don’t because you might tell me not to go through with it.”
No, I wouldn’t.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
Sometimes it’s like I can hear her voice. I know I can’t—I’m not imagining or hallucinating or believing her spirit follows me through life. But I have conversations with her—out loud for me, her responses kept in my head.
It makes me feel close to her again.
“Odin told me I shouldn’t be the Suitor, but it’s not like he can talk,” I say to my reflection. “At least I’m guaranteed not to be sent home the first week.”
In my head, Mom laughs.
“Dad was cool with the idea, because Dad is cool about everything, but the boys… They don’t think I should do it. They’ve never really had high expectations of me being in the public eye. And this is more public than I’ve ever been.”
Whose fault is that?
“Mine, I know,” I admit. “But it would be nice sometimes… It doesn’t matter.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I haven’t heard from Spencer. I don’t know what I expected but—”
Don’t give up on Spencer.
“I’m about to meet twenty-five men, one of whom may be the love of my life. Now isn’t the best time to think about Spencer.” I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath. “This is going to work.”
Of course it will.
A knock sounds on the door, and Ria opens it before I can respond. “You ready?” she calls, the excitement evident in her voice.
I take a last long look at myself. “Let’s do this,” I say.
I refused the many requests to wear a tiara.
I am wearing my mother’s necklace—the oval sapphire she wore for formal occasions. It’s not as big as the one in the Titanic movie, but it’s a good size. And it’s real.
It’s like a piece of her is with me.
“You ready?” Grayson stands with me at the front of the hotel. With my heels, he’s only a few inches taller than I am, resplendent in a dark purple suit.
“I’m not ready for you to one-up me, so maybe you should be out of camera for this part,” I joke, giving his shoulder a push. “You look too good.”
“You look amazing,” he counters. “No one is going to one-up you.”
“Does that mean the guys aren’t pretty?”
“They are very pretty,” he assures me. “First car is coming. Here we go.”
The house the men are staying at is a former hotel high up overlooking the ocean. It’s a beautiful spot, but the length of the drive gives my nerves too much time to ratchet up.
“Are you nervous?” Grayson asks just as the first car moves into position. I know this question is for the camera, so I turn and give him my best smile.
“Of course. My Prince Charming might be in that car, so of course I’m scared out of my mind.” And then I give a laugh that sounds perfectly natural.
“When I first met Bexley, she completely blanked on my name, so don’t give first impressions all that much thought. Those guys are even more scared than you are,” Grayson counsels.
“What did she think your name was?” I wonder as the driver gets out to open the back door.
“I don’t know,” Grayson admits.
“You should ask her.” And then I take a deep breath because the first man appears.
He’s—he’s really pretty, with dark curly hair and even darker eyes.
And the way he smiles when he catches sight of me standing there? It’s really nice.
This is the first one, so should I admit my stomach actually flutters when he smiles at me?
“Princess Lyra,” he announces when he’s before me. His voice has a tinge of India mixed with British, and his teeth are very white against his skin.
He’s… very pretty.
“Just Lyra,” I correct. At least he didn’t blank on my name.
“I am Asani. And I’m enchanted to meet you.” He takes my hand and kisses it, his lips warm and dry.
I’ve had my hand kissed by countless men, and things never fluttered like this.
A good sign.
“Hi,” I say, my smile turning foolish as I stare into those dark eyes. “And thanks. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
We spend a moment making small talk, but later, I won’t remember what was said. There’s a lot of smiling from both of us, and I’m content to stand here for another moment until Grayson clears his throat off to the side.
“Thanks for being here,” I manage, trying for a polite and reluctant dismissal.
“It will be my pleasure. I look forward to getting to know you better. Can I—?” He opens his arms.
Hug. He’s asking to hug me. “Of course.” I step into his arms, and wow, does he smell delicious. I could stay here inhaling his jacket for the rest of the night.
But I let him go and prepare for the next one.
Eliott is next, his bashful smile charming me instantly. I’m sure his name will be followed by “cinnamon roll hero” when they show him on screen. After him is Luc P., then firefighter Dylan, who arrives in his suit so there’s no doubt that he saves lives, and dentist Charlie.
He actually introduces himself as a dentist, which I don’t love. I counter by asking how he likes my whitened teeth.
First car finished, I prepare for the next batch.
There are too many for me to keep track of all of their names, but there are several that are memorable: Boone, bald and brawny and covered in tattoos.
He rides up on a motorcycle and we have to shoot his entrance again because I head straight for the bike when he swings a leg over, all ready to jump on for a ride.
I’ve always had a thing for bad boys.
Then there’s Basher, who commandeered a tour bus, which, given the size of the island, is impressive. He’s the drummer of Water Rhinos, whom I’m proud to say I’ve actually heard of.
“My father will love you,” I tell Basher. “Or maybe not, depending on how much he remembers from his time in his band.”
They have a man who plays tennis, a basketball player who towers over me, and Tanner McGainey. “I know your brother,” is how he introduces himself to me. He’s big and broad and shaggy-haired, with a crooked nose.
“Lucky you.” I roll my eyes. “Which one?”
“Prince Kalle. Hockey. We played Juniors together,” Tanner says, with an adorable aw shucks attitude. “He’s going to hate that I’m on the show here with you.”
I smile and touch his arm. “That’s Kalle’s problem, and I don’t concern myself with my brothers’ problems.”
Jon is big and broody, but I like the way his gaze flicks around before landing on me, like he’s checking the perimeter in full-protect mode. He’s supposedly an alpha—I had to ask for clarification from Ria when she told me, since all I could think of is the alpha of a werewolf pack.
I’m surprised by a few of them: Leo, whom I instantly recognize as not only a former child star on the show Time to Go, but as a recent finalist on Dancing with the Stars.
Grayson gives another clear of the throat when I keep talking to Leo—mainly me asking what it was like to be a part of Dancing.
I’m still high from meeting him when the fourth car arrives, bringing fellow Laandian Lucas Nyle.
“Oh, my god!” I cry, hands slapping against my mouth.
“Boy next door,” Lucas says, arms wide. “Or as next door as you can get when you live in a castle.”
I went to school with Lucas, and I’m not surprised when the first thing he does is admit that he’s always had a crush on me. I always knew he had a crush on me.
A girl can tell these things.
It’s not until the fifth limo that I get the first real shock of the evening.
Ashton Carrington gets out of the car.
“No,” I cry, starting to laugh. “Oh, hell no!”
Ashton spreads his arms. “Babe!”
“No way!”
“Why not?” His mock hurt expression doesn’t deter from his model-looks.
A producer thrusts a microphone in my face and Ashton stands by the car, waiting for my reaction to be recorded. “Lyra? How do you know Ashton?”
“I know his twin sister, Fenella. She lives in Battle Harbour and has transformed the town. My brother used to race cars with him. I’ve met Ashton a few times.”
I’ve made out with Ashton a few times, but I’m not about to admit that on camera.
Because we know each other, and Ashton is the last to arrive, they give us longer. Or maybe it’s because Ashton blatantly ignores Grayson’s warning cough.
But finally, I shoo him into the house, sensing Grayson needs a minute with me.
And I need a minute to process what just happened.
I just met twenty-five men. Not only am I supposed to remember their names, I also have to choose the first three to send home by the end of the night.
“So?” Grayson asks.
I manage to give him a grin. “This is going to be fun.”