19. Heidi
HEIDI
It’s Wednesday and I’m in the control room with Miles. On the screens, the footage from Aspen is feeding in on an hour delay. It couldn’t have worked out more perfect if I hired actors.
“These people are awful,” Miles mutters.
On the feed, Colette’s father is mid-sentence, his voice a dry rasp as he critiques his daughter’s career choices over lunch. Colette sits rigid, her smile brittle, while Max sits beside her, looking profoundly out of place and uncomfortable.
It turns out Colette’s parents are both university professors—the kind of people who use a casual lunch as an opportunity to grandstand about their respective fields.
They clearly disapprove of their daughter, Max, and the entire production.
For the show, it’s perfect. If we can get shots of Max looking out of place here but comfortable with Grace's family later, the audience will see who the better fit is. But he still has to look like a good sport, who’s trying with Colette’s family.
Instead, he’s spent the last hour going off topic to talk about "regret" and "monumental errors in judgment" that he remains suspiciously vague about.
On the screen, Colette’s father clears his throat, leaning back and adjusting his glasses with a theatrical flourish. He’s definitely playing to the cameras.
“In my research on the instability of the Hellenistic kingdoms,” he says, “we see that the greatest tragedies often stem from a fundamental lack of foresight. It’s the classic hubris of men letting pride dictate their borders, only to realize too late that they’ve abandoned the very things worth keeping. Wouldn’t you agree, Max?”
Max doesn’t miss a beat.
“Actually, I think you’re thinking of the late Classical period.
By the time we reach the Hellenistic era, the borders were already a mess of successor states.
The tragedy wasn’t a lack of foresight—it was men who had everything and still chose to burn it all down because they couldn’t get out of their own way. ”
Then he turns his head, looking directly into the lens of the camera.
“I think those men must have had the worst kind of regret,” Max says, his eyes fixed on the camera. “Realizing you had everything you wanted in your hand, but you—”
Miles hits pause, freezing Max’s intense expression on the monitors.
“What on earth is he talking about? Coffee?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice a little tight. Miles heads for the machine, and I’m left staring at Max’s tired eyes on the screen.
But then my gaze flicks to the person beside him.
I’ve been so caught up in the history debate and Max’s subtext that I didn't even notice Colette. She’s sitting with her head down, looking like she's on the verge of a total collapse.
I grab my phone, step outside and dial Marissa’s cell.
“Can you put Colette on?” I ask.
I pace, listening to the muffled sounds of Marissa moving down a hallway, a knock on a door, and a quiet exchange.
“Heidi?” Colette’s voice is small when she finally answers.
“I’m watching the feed,” I say. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she says quickly. The hollowness in her voice is worse than if she’d started crying. “Things are going well.”
They aren’t.
“My father was impressed with Max’s knowledge of the Roman Empire,” she adds, like she’s trying to convince herself.
There’s a long pause. I hear her take a slow, shaky breath.
“Look,” she says quietly. “I’m worried about Max.
He seems really…” She hesitates. “I don’t think Max wants to be here at all. ”
“Don’t be silly—”
“Come on, Heidi. He’s going through the motions, but he’s off today. He's somewhere else entirely. And it makes me worried for Grace.”
“Grace?”
“I know he’s choosing her. And she’s barely holding it together. Every time the cameras cut, her hands start shaking. Her energy…it’s like she’s been on the verge of a meltdown for years and she’s finally reaching the limit.”
“I’m not sure I’m following.”
“I don’t think Max wants this,” Colette says. “He keeps talking about regrets. About making mistakes. I think he regrets coming on the show.”
Silence stretches between us.
“If that wedding doesn’t happen,” she adds, “I think Grace is going to lose it.”
Colette’s hometown date is a disaster. She knows she’s not the one. She should be angry or heartbroken for herself, but instead, she’s worried about the woman she’s supposed to be competing against.
“I know she’s…well, she’s Grace,” Colette says. “But underneath all of that, she’s scared. She isn’t as tough as she pretends to be.” She hesitates. “Promise me you’ll take care of her if things go wrong.”
The request catches me off guard.
“Yeah,” I say, the word tight in my throat. “Of course.”
There’s movement in the background on her end.
“Heidi,” Colette says, but her voice is muffled. I hear the rustle of the phone changing hands, the distant crunch of gravel, and then the line goes quiet for a heartbeat.
“Baby?” Max says softly.
It’s the first time we’ve spoken since the car. The way we left things is still sharp in my mind.
“You should be getting ready for the winery,” I say, trying to find my producer voice. “The light is fading.”
“Listen to me. I had Will get something for me. It’s in the mailbox at the mansion with your name on it. Go get it now.”
“I’m busy.”
“It’s important.”
I take a long breath and walk up the driveway, the phone still to my ear, but Max is silent on the other end. I find a small brown box inside. I think of the last gift he got me—the book on how to masturbate. I rip the tape open and freeze.
It’s a green velvet box.
I ignore the tightness in my chest and lift the lid. I stare down at the ring. It’s a vintage sapphire, a deep, dark blue that glows against the velvet. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Max,” I say, my voice sounding like a warning.
“Put it on for me,” he says softly. “Just for a second. So I know it fits.”
“I can’t deal with this right now,” I say, closing my eyes. “And you just broke up with me—”
“How could I break up with you if we weren’t together?”
I wince.
He’s got a point.
“Heidi,” he says. “Put it on. Tell me you’re mine. Please. I’m going crazy here. I didn’t mean to say that before. I underestimated how stubborn you are—”
I thumb the end button and shove the phone into my pocket. My hand is trembling as I slide the band out of the velvet. My heart is thudding as I slip it onto my finger. It slides on perfectly.
I yank it off and shove the box deep into my pocket.
I head back, but skip the control room and head to the mansion steps and sink onto them.
I’ve known Max for a month. In the real world, that’s barely enough time to figure out someone’s coffee order. In the real world, you don’t buy a vintage sapphire for a woman you just met.
But we don’t live in the real world. This entire production is an incubator for psychosis, and he’s clearly succumbed to it. He’s out of his mind. He’s supposed to propose to someone else next week, and instead he’s proposed to me. At least, I think he has.
And apparently I’m just as far gone…because despite every logical alarm bell going off in my head, I want to wear his ring.