Chapter 25 #2
I feel a mix of sadness and gratitude watching him. I’m grateful I get to see the real Zac, the one who teases and smiles and cares for me. But it makes me sad that the rest of the world only sees this version, when the man I’m getting to know is so much warmer underneath.
Mia and Jaina help me to the door, their hands gentle on my arms, steadying me.
But Zac is suddenly there at the bottom of the steps, looking up at me. He’s left the scooter and crutches with Karyn and is blocking the path. “I got it.”
They nod and step back without argument, exchanging glances.
I don’t get a chance to protest before I’m lifted into his arms. My breath catches and my heart races so fast, I’m sure he can feel it.
I’m hyperaware of everywhere we’re touching—my shoulder against his chest, my hip against his forearm.
This close, I can see the faint stubble along his jaw, can feel his breath against my temple.
He’s careful, keeping me at just the right distance so my dress doesn’t wrinkle and my makeup doesn’t smudge against his shoulder.
But he has one hand behind my back, one under my knees, and I can feel the strength in them.
Cradling me, he takes the stairs.
“You’re going to be such a great help,” Karyn says happily, watching us with obvious approval and a glint of pure mischief in her eyes that makes me want to hide my face.
At the bottom, he sets me down with the same care, his hands lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on my waist before he positions me so I can grip the crutches. His fingers brush against mine as he hands them over.
He takes control of the scooter, and I notice the accommodations the crew has made. Planks of wood and temporary ramps are laid out across the uneven ground, creating smooth paths through what would otherwise be a minefield of dirt, gravel, and construction debris.
We pass a pop-up tent and head toward Jess and Kejuan’s house, and Zac follows close enough that I can hear the soft thud of his boots on the wood.
It doesn’t make me nervous; it calms me.
He’s watched me faint, struggle, and he’s held me.
Whatever happens on camera today, I’ve already survived worse in front of him.
When we reach the couple’s house, the entire crew is assembled. Cameras on tripods, boom mics hovering, lighting equipment reflecting the morning sun, everyone in position. There must be twenty people here, all watching, waiting.
Dain immediately directs me to my mark with an annoyed wave of his hand, his assistant pressing a strip of tape onto the ground. “Here. Don’t move from this spot unless I tell you.”
I glance at Zac. His nostrils flare. His hands are shoved into his pockets, but I can see the tension in his shoulders.
“Can you put the scooter there?” I point to a spot just off camera, near the equipment cases.
“I’ll swap. You can take these.” Before anyone can object, I hand over the crutches, desperate to diffuse the tension before Zac and Dain have it out in front of everyone.
I know Zac’s history, so I won’t let it go that far.
I switch to the scooter, and Zac helps smooth down my dress, his fingers gentle as they straighten the fabric at my waist, then the collar at my neck.
His touch is brief but deliberate, and warmth spreads through me, creating the same desire from the laundry room that I’ve been trying to talk myself out of ever since.
“You’re stealing my job,” Karyn jokes, watching us with an amused smile. She’s settled into a chair near the monitors, clipboard in her lap.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, stepping back, his ears slightly pink.
“Don’t be. Just don’t do too much, or I won’t have anything to do.”
Mia and Jaina retreat to the sidelines, positioning themselves near the monitors where they can watch but stay out of the way. Mia gives me an encouraging thumbs-up. Jaina mouths, you’ve got this.
I take a breath and start running through my lines. Zac stands slightly apart from the crew, arms crossed, those blue eyes tracking my every movement.
I wonder what he thinks. If he’s impressed. If I sound natural or rehearsed. If he can see how nervous I am.
Thankfully, I nail the practice run.
“Good,” Dain calls out. “Let’s do this for real. Rolling in five.”
I’m shocked by his praise.
The interview with Jessa and Kejuan goes smoothly, both glowing with excitement, dressed casually in jeans, white t-shirts, and work boots.
They talk enthusiastically about their vision for the natural farmhouse aesthetic as they hold hands and finish each other’s sentences, and I can’t help but smile.
But then we move to Lilia and Mac’s house, and my stomach sinks. I’m dreading this interview.
Their house is modern, with concrete, glass, and stark-white touches. It looks like a minimalist architecture magazine, not something to be featured on a show about approachable home renovation in a mid-town neighborhood.
Both stand with their arms crossed, expressions somewhere between bored and actively annoyed. Lilia keeps checking her Apple Watch, while Mac won’t quite meet my eyes.
The crew shifts uncomfortably. Even the camera operator, who’s usually calm, looks tense.
“You’re ahead with the kitchen renovations,” I begin, reading from my prepared questions. “Why do you think that is?”
“We understand time management,” Mac says flatly. “We stick to a schedule and refuse to accept anything less. Unlike some people.”
According to what the girls told me this morning while doing my hair, they’re already on their third carpenter because they fired the first two. The first one had a family emergency. The second one’s supplier delayed a shipment.
“Do you expect any problems with your current carpenter?”