Chapter Twenty-Three
The catamaran drifted easily out of the harbor as its sails caught the last of the afternoon light.
Skye sat opposite Lucy with a champagne flute in her hand.
She was trying to look relaxed despite feeling the opposite.
Lucy hadn’t looked at her since they’d boarded.
Not when the sound tech had clipped the mic to her loose linen blouse.
Not when Marla had appeared with her headset on, explaining that they’d only be sailing a short loop along the coast and that it was safer for everyone to stay seated on the catamaran’s broad deck benches.
It was painfully clear when Skye caught Lucy’s eyes, ready with a small grin, only to find Lucy already turning away.
Skye concentrated on the picnic basket between them. It was the usual production spread of cheese, fruit, and salty crackers. All were arranged as if they were on the cover of a lifestyle magazine.
“I never knew what mahi mahi was until today,” Amy said brightly, plucking a strawberry from the tray. “I was lucky to be paired with Lucy.” She turned her attention to Lucy and nudged her with her toe. “Where did you learn to cook like that?”
Lucy shrugged. “My mom was always experimenting with food. One week she’d sprinkle cocoa on roasted sweet potatoes and the next she’d drown our spaghetti noodles in a lime-and-lemongrass sauce.
Our kitchen usually smelled like a spice market.
” She leaned forward and grabbed a bunch of grapes.
“I’d get home and hear pots and pans clinking, and I’d immediately brace myself for whatever delicious disaster was waiting on the stove. ”
Skye smiled into her champagne. “Sounds kind of lovely,” she said, hoping to catch Lucy’s eye.
She didn’t. “We used to have a set schedule. Mondays were meatloaf. Tuesdays were always chicken soup with garlic bread. Wednesdays were spaghetti Bolognese, but sometimes my mom felt adventurous and did spaghetti and meatballs instead. I think I would’ve liked a bit of chaos,” Skye admitted.
“I don’t know,” Lucy replied, still not looking at Skye.
“Maybe predictable is sometimes better. Maybe I would’ve preferred it if I got home and knew exactly what was waiting for me on the dinner table.
Maybe I didn’t like that I thought I would be eating a classic beef stroganoff and then it turned out to be something completely different. ”
“I think you’re being a little unfair to your mom, don’t you?” Skye said, knowing damn well this wasn’t about stroganoff but about Skye’s secret.
Lucy shook her head. “No, I don’t think I am. I don’t think it’s fair that I had to just pretend to like the taste and smile like everything was fine.”
“Sometimes you have to do something for someone because you care about them.”
“That’s a two-way street,” Lucy snapped back.
Skye took a slow sip of her champagne, as if the fizz could somehow scrub the tension between them clean.
The tension was completely obvious and utterly un-ignorable.
It was ridiculous. It wasn’t like she owed Lucy an explanation for standing in for Deanna.
It wasn’t like she had to admit she worked on the show.
Truthfully, it was none of Lucy’s business.
“What about you?” Skye asked, desperate to deflect before Marla intervened.
Skye didn’t even bother glancing toward the stern of the catamaran where she knew the camera crew and Marla were stationed.
She knew exactly what her face would say—don’t make me step in, Skye—and she didn’t like it. “How was dinner at your house?”
Skye knew Amy had noticed the tension. She kept flicking her gaze between the two of them, with her brows slightly furrowed, but she didn’t say anything. Thank goodness for that. Skye wouldn’t know what to say if she had.
Amy, who was chewing on a juicy slice of melon, quickly brushed off the juice dripping down the side of her mouth.
“We were the takeout family. My mother rarely cooked, and if she did, it wasn’t very good.
” She laughed as she stretched her legs along the deck cushion.
They were long and a sunlit bronze color.
“I tried a cooking course a few months back, but that didn’t exactly end well. ”
“Why not?” Lucy asked. She was facing away from Skye now, which in the history of The Sapphic Match had never happened. The contestants always faced the bachelorette as if they couldn’t get enough of her. This was obvious. This was practically forbidden.
“Let’s just say I’m as bad at cooking as I am at making kombucha,” Amy replied.
“You weren’t that bad earlier when we were cooking up the parcels,” Lucy said, folding her legs beneath her. She placed her champagne glass down on the deck and reached for a cracker. “I thought we made a pretty good team.”
“Well, that’s because I let you do everything. Lucy’s the reason I’m on this date.” She giggled a little nervously. Skye couldn’t blame her. This entire date felt like a frying pan left too long on high heat. There was way too much tension hissing beneath the surface.
“Well, I’m glad both of you are here,” Skye said quickly, trying to yank the wheel and steer the conversation back to a state of calm. But honestly, it felt like she was trying to throw a bucket of water onto a grease fire.
Lucy scowled. “Are you really?” Lucy asked, her voice cold.
Skye tried to laugh it off, but it came out brittle. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Am I missing something?” Amy asked, sitting up a little straighter. “Because it feels like there’s something going on here, and I’m just kind of stuck in the middle.”
“Okay, let’s pause there!” Marla called out from the stern.
One of the camerawomen standing closest to them lowered her lens a fraction, but Skye noticed the red lights were still blinking. The cameras hadn’t stopped. They were trained on the three of them like vultures circling their prey.
“Skye.” Marla was already striding across the deck toward them. “Can I have a word, please?”
Skye felt a hole open up in her stomach. She stood up, tried to appear as casual as possible even though every muscle in her body was extremely tense, and walked to where Marla was waiting at the stern rail.
“Skye,” Marla hissed, leaning in closer than necessary so only Skye could hear.
“You need to get a handle on Lucy. We can’t have this come out.
You know how important it is for us to finish the show.
The network is breathing down my neck. You know what TV drama looks like; don’t make me spell it out. ”
Skye crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you wanted drama.”
Marla’s face twisted, and a vein ticked at her temple. “I wanted tension between the contestants, not the bachelorette fucking one of them.”
Skye nodded slowly, because nodding was easier than arguing.
But the instant she looked back at Lucy, her throat tightened.
The hurt, the frustration, and every tiny betrayal stacked up over the past few weeks.
Every time Skye had ignored Lucy, thinking it was for her own good, it had actually hurt her more.
Enough was enough. She couldn’t keep quiet anymore, and she knew the moment she started talking, half of America was going to see this.
Clearly, Stanley wouldn’t miss the chance to spin it into a scandal.
Skye knew deep down that whatever she was about to say next would be replayed, memes would be made, and gossip would spread faster than wildfire.
But she didn’t care. This wasn’t about perfect storylines or great ratings anymore.
It was about finally telling the truth and finally admitting everything she kept inside.
Skye straightened her spine and took a breath that felt way too big for her lungs. “No!” she blurted.
Marla blinked. “What do you mean, no?”
“I can’t keep doing this,” Skye said, her voice rising so loud it carried across the deck to every single camera trained on her.
“First, you and Stanley forced me into this role because the real bachelorette couldn’t bother to show up.
Then Alexis finds out about me and Lucy and decides to blackmail me.
” Skye didn’t need to go into all the lengths Alexis had gone to keep herself in the show.
She knew the confessionals would tear her apart later anyway.
Skye would make sure of that. “And now you, Marla, are forcing me to finish the show like nothing’s wrong.
You want me to pretend everything’s normal when I’ve already made my choice.
You’re right, Marla… it’s not fair to the other contestants what I’ve done, but it’s also not fair to anyone to keep lying either. ”
She swung around to where Lucy and Amy were still sitting, frozen on the deck. Amy, who had a slice of melon halfway to her mouth, blinked rapidly. Lucy, whose mouth hung open, had just dropped a cracker onto her thigh.
“Amy,” Skye said, first turning her attention to her. “I need to apologize to you.”
“Skye,” Marla warned, looking like she’d been stung by a thousand tiny bees. Her jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin, furious line.
But Skye didn’t look at her. She couldn’t. She needed to be honest. For the first time in a long time, she needed to say what she felt. And she didn’t care if every word she spoke was being captured by cameras, which would be aired on television for everyone to see.
“Amy,” she said again. “I haven’t been fair to you or the other contestants.
You signed up for a chance at love, and I should’ve given you that chance.
” Her chest tightened, but she forced the words out.
“But instead, I crossed a line.” She took a deep breath and exhaled the words.
“I slept with Lucy. And it wasn’t just once. ”
Amy’s lips parted, and her lashes blinked fast.