Chapter Twelve
Birdie sat on the edge of a velvet armchair, knees pulled in just enough to make herself small, but not so small that she became entirely invisible.
Not that some invisibility was a bad thing considering all the girls were going a little crazy.
They’d been rounded up in the living room and told to wait until the next date was announced.
The producers probably found it amusing to have nine women crammed together like Mentos dropped into a can of cola, ready to explode.
Birdie, however, did not find it one bit amusing.
She considered picking out a book from the bookcase, maybe one she’d already read like Pride and Prejudice.
At least Mr. Darcy was predictable. Instead, she settled on being in the moment and taking in the room.
The overstuffed throw pillows were mustard yellow and deep teal.
The hand-painted ceramic vases held sprigs of lavender, pale pink peonies, and wild chamomile that bobbed in the breeze from the open balcony doors.
The sunlight glinted off the gold-edged frames of the watercolor paintings on the walls.
The artist’s signature was barely recognizable at the bottom of the canvas.
She would’ve appreciated the details more if her thoughts hadn’t kept drifting back to Alexis.
To the way her skin had felt under Birdie’s fingers.
The way her lips tasted. The way Alexis had recoiled from her and promptly told her to get the hell out of her bedroom.
Unfortunately, that part of the memory made her heart kick against her ribs.
“You know,” Louise said, sinking into the tufted chaise beside Birdie. “Isabelle put a hundred-dollar bet that the next date is a wine tasting. She reckons we stomped the grapes yesterday, so why not drink the wine today? Want to join in on the bet? Maybe up the stakes?”
Birdie shook her head.
Louise seemed unbothered by Birdie’s mood and crossed one leg over the other. “Were you in the kitchen last night?” she asked, her eyes fixed on Lyra and Nina, who were huddled over a hand-carved chess set in the corner.
Birdie felt her stomach squeeze tight. Yes, she’d been in the kitchen.
But she’d also snuck out of it with Alexis.
She didn’t answer. She simply stared ahead at Nina and Lyra, who didn’t seem to know what they were doing.
Nina flicked pawns forward like checkers, and Lyra had just sent a rook sailing diagonally across half the board.
Birdie didn’t play chess, but even she knew rooks weren’t supposed to move like that.
“I thought I heard your voice,” Lyra added.
Birdie swallowed hard. “My voice?” Even a deaf man could hear the wobble in her voice. Louise noticed it too. She arched her brows, and Birdie knew she’d fucked up.
But then Louise shrugged and said, “Could’ve been anyone,” and stretched her hand into the sunlight, turning it this way and that as if she were inspecting a diamond rather than her French manicure.
“There was no one in the kitchen when I got there. Thought I was imagining things. But someone left a bowl of half-eaten Cocoa Puffs, so I guess not. Wonder which of these girls is a midnight snacker.”
“I’d put money on Kinley.”
They both glanced in Kinley’s direction, where she was stroking her index finger along the spines of a battered row of Agatha Christie paperbacks. She had an apple in her other hand, and just as she reached the end of the shelf, she took a bite.
Louise chuckled. “I think you might just win that bet.” She leaned over the armrest. “So, what do you think today’s date is going to be?”
Birdie was just about to say she had no idea when the double doors swung open, and Vivian swept in.
She was wearing a wine-colored silk blouse that somehow made her hair whiter than it already was.
She carried an envelope in her hand, and Birdie’s stomach dropped, because surely she didn’t need an envelope to announce the next date.
“Ladies, it’s time to find out what comes next on this journey. And I’m sure you all know what I mean by that… a one-on-one date with our bachelorette.”
There were claps and cheers, and Birdie tried to predict what that date could be.
Possibly a hike up some storybook Provencal hill.
Maybe with a basket of figs and cheese waiting at the top.
Or another picnic in the vineyard where Alexis would pluck grapes from the vine and feed them seductively to the lucky contestant.
Her mind was filled with every kind of romantic date. All dates Birdie could picture others on. Which, frankly, left a bitter taste in Birdie’s mouth. What if the date was so romantic, the mood so perfect that Alexis ended up kissing someone else?
Birdie plucked the thought out of her head so quickly it was like yanking a splinter out of her thumb. She winced and then set her sights back on Vivian, who held up the envelope.
“There are three paths for today’s adventure,” Vivian said, giving a quick pause. “First, an outing to the lavender distillery in Gordes, where you’ll learn how to make essential oils.”
There was a murmur of approval, and Birdie wasn’t unhappy about the date. She could already imagine herself bottling lavender, rosemary, and a hint of lemon verbena and using it in the diffuser in her bookstore.
“The second date is pétanque in the village square. Which is basically French bocce ball for those of you who didn’t bother with Duolingo before you arrived. And third, a horseback ride through the trails of Roussillon, ending with a glass of rosé on the cliffs,” Vivian said.
Gasps and delighted squeals filled the room, even more so than before. Birdie had taken horseback riding lessons as a kid, usually in the summer when she visited her aunt Jan in Crested Butte, and so of course she could think of nothing better than a ride through Roussillon.
“But here’s the twist,” Vivian said, bringing everyone’s attention back.
She tapped the envelope against her palm as if it were a gavel.
“The date and the lucky contestant have already been chosen by the viewers. However…” She let the word hang.
“If any of you can guess correctly what and who they voted for, you’ll have the chance to swap in and claim that spot for yourself. ”
Birdie barely had time to register when Vivian handed out slips of paper. “Write down your answer and then swap it with the person next to you.”
Louise leaned toward Birdie and whispered, “This feels like being back at school.”
Birdie nodded but couldn’t answer because her stomach was all twisty nerves.
She needed this. She wanted to spend more time with Alexis, especially after last night.
Especially after Alexis had turned stone cold and told her to leave.
Birdie needed to know why. She needed to know if it was because Alexis had simply been scared of her feelings.
But what kind of strategy could she even come up with?
Her mind raced. Her fingers trembled. Finally, she wrote down Danielle.
Horse ride because it felt right. Danielle had been overlooked for things so far, and the viewers probably wanted to see more of her.
When Vivian said, “Swap,” she handed her slip to Louise.
Louise had picked Bianca and an essential oil date. Which made Birdie’s heart skip a beat. Of course, the viewers would choose Bianca. She was gorgeous and funny and extremely entertaining, and making essential oils sounded just as romantic.
She bit back a groan just as Vivian said, “Everyone ready?”
She opened the envelope and pulled out a square paper. Her eyes flicked down. “The date the viewers chose is horseback riding with Danielle.”
There were no cheers this time. No excited squeals. And it took a minute for Birdie to realize that she had chosen correctly. She turned to Louise, but Louise was already waving the slip in the air. “Birdie got it right!”
Vivian stepped forward. “Congratulations, Birdie,” she said, looking strangely bemused, as if she didn’t quite believe Birdie could come up with that on her own. “So, what do you want to do?”
Birdie glanced in Danielle’s direction, who glowered at her like she wasn’t above stabbing her in the back with an ice pick.
But this was a game, and it was everyone for themselves.
Besides, Birdie really wanted to see Alexis again.
She really wanted to understand how someone could enjoy themselves that much and then act so cold and distant right after.
It had been clear that Alexis had enjoyed herself in the way that her body had moved and shuddered.
It had also said as much when she responded, “I’ll take the date. ”
“Great! You leave now,” Vivian said with a smirk.
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
And before Birdie knew it, she was being hustled down the steps and into a waiting silver sedan. Her pulse hadn’t caught up yet by the time she slid into the warm leather seat, and then she froze. Alexis was already there, sitting by the window.
“Hi,” Birdie said, her voice catching slightly.
Alexis looked more shocked than surprised.
She didn’t smile. In fact, she didn’t do anything other than glance over Birdie’s shoulder as if she was expecting someone else for the date.
Maybe even hoping for someone else. If the cameras were here, which, strangely enough, they weren’t, Birdie would’ve found it borderline humiliating.
“Where’s the camera crew?” Birdie asked, sliding into the seat, very aware of her knees and arms and keeping just enough distance from Alexis.
“They’re riding along in a second car,” the driver said, turning back to face them. He was bald, with dark brown eyes and a deeply lined forehead. “They’ll meet you there.”
Birdie nodded. Alexis did not.
The engine started, and Birdie took it as an opportunity to whisper, “About last night.” But her voice was clearly not soft enough because Alexis whipped her head in her direction. Her eyes were so wide Birdie could’ve sworn they were about to crash into the vineyards.
“Can we have some music, please?” Alexis asked, leaning forward.
The driver tilted his head but didn’t answer. A second later, French music floated through the speakers. An accordion, brushed strings and the smooth voice of a woman echoed through the vehicle.
“I don’t want to talk about last night,” Alexis said, facing forward, her lips thin as a line. She wasn’t whispering, but the music was loud enough to keep their conversation relatively private. Which was another surprise. Birdie would’ve expected every encounter to be filmed.
“Why not?” she asked, staring at Alexis even though Alexis seemed to be doing everything in her power to look elsewhere.
“Why can’t we just talk about the fact that we had sex, great sex, and you kicked me out right after?
It’s basically Portland all over again, except you forced me to leave this time. ”
“It was a mistake.”
Birdie blinked. She had expected Alexis to say something like that, but she hadn’t expected her to act so detached.
But then again, Alexis had the ability to shock her over and over again.
“Are we seriously back to square one?” Birdie asked, feeling bitterly disappointed.
She really thought last night was a bridge they’d crossed.
Weren’t they at the moment where things shifted and walls fell? But guess not.
“Depends on what you consider square one,” Alexis said.
“So, you’re voting me off tonight?”
“This isn’t Survivor.”
“Well, it feels like it is.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Alexis said plainly, still not looking at her.
“Well, I don’t think you are sorry,” Birdie said, becoming progressively hot behind the ears.
The air conditioner was blasting, but even that couldn’t cool her down.
“You know, you’re so confusing. I’m surprised you don’t give yourself whiplash from all the back and forth.
It’s like a damn tennis match with you.”
“I don’t play tennis.” Alexis’s eyes flicked briefly toward her.
“Good,” Birdie said because she didn’t know what else to say. “You’d probably be terrible at it anyway.”
The car came to a brief stop on a narrow cobblestone path.
Brightly painted houses surrounded them on all sides, and suddenly Birdie couldn’t wait to get back to the villa and away from Alexis.
Which was quite the conundrum since she had to spend the next three hours with her.
And on top of that, she had to act nice because the cameras were watching.
Ugh!