Chapter Twenty-Two
Birdie felt like she was floating. Or at least this was what she imagined floating felt like, since she’d never actually experienced weightlessness in her life.
She thought of those videos she’d seen on Instagram of people in those zero-gravity pods, tumbling and drifting, and knew it had to feel something like this.
Only better. Because she wasn’t tumbling in a pod, she was orbiting Alexis.
Which sounded corny as hell, but she didn’t care.
Alexis was going to give her the final lavender bouquet.
She had said so just last night. And on top of that, she was also going to come clean to everyone, which felt like the right thing to do.
Birdie’s conscience was beginning to take a knock.
Every time she snuck back into her room and spotted Bianca under the covers, she experienced a knife-like twinge of guilt.
A butter knife, but still. Wasn’t the premise of the entire show about finding love?
“Birdie,” Bianca called through the door.
“I’ll be right out,” she said, grabbing the towel off the drying rack and working it through her wet hair. It was hot out. Warm morning air seeped in through the cracked window, heating the steam she’d left behind after her shower. “Just give me a second.”
No response.
She took that as Bianca giving up and leaving for breakfast. Birdie was reminded of the mini eclairs in the fridge, and her stomach grumbled.
Just yesterday they had a wonderful morning spread of pillowy croissants, homemade butter, and smoked salmon laid out in silky ribbons beside capers and cream cheese.
She couldn’t imagine eating as much as she had then, but she also couldn’t imagine eating any less.
But when Birdie stepped out of the bathroom, still tugging at the ends of her damp hair, she was more than just a little surprised to see Bianca still in the room. And even more surprised to see her perched on the end of Birdie’s bed with her knees bouncing nervously.
“We need to talk,” Bianca said. Her usually breezy voice sounded heavy and stilted. “Do you have a minute?”
This is strange, Birdie thought. Their relationship didn’t involve personal talks. Even when they got ready, Bianca usually had earphones in while she sat in front of the mirror and Birdie did her makeup silently in the bathroom.
“Sure,” Birdie said slowly, wondering whether or not she should begin to panic.
At first, Bianca didn’t say anything; she just stared down at her hands. Her fingers rubbed along the hem of her navy-blue tank top. She was in sweats, and her hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail. “I saw you last night,” she said, flicking her head up to look Birdie in the eye.
Birdie blinked. “Saw me?” she asked, her voice already shaky. She draped the towel around her shoulders, suddenly convinced her skin was becoming blotchy and that somehow meant that she was guilty. But what exactly was Bianca even accusing her of?
“Where?” Birdie asked. Although she didn’t need to ask. She knew Bianca’s answer. And she came to realize that the sound they’d heard last night, the sharp click they’d brushed off as the pool pump, hadn’t been that at all.
“By the pool. With Alexis. You two were holding hands.”
“That was noth—”
“I’m not an idiot,” Bianca interrupted. She shifted back onto Birdie’s bed and crossed one leg under her.
“I’ve suspected something for a while now.
You think I don’t notice when your bed is empty at night?
Or hear you sneak back into the room in the early mornings?
I don’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to put two and two together. ”
Birdie’s heart was an entire marching band.
It thundered in her chest. “It’s not… it’s not what you think.
” She wanted to sound breezy, nonchalant, like she could brush this off.
But her voice wobbled, and the denial collapsed on itself before she even finished the sentence.
Because it was what Bianca thought. In fact, it was exactly what Bianca thought.
“Are you sleeping with Alexis?” she asked. “Are you two sneaking behind our backs?”
Birdie sighed. She could lie. She could say, ‘No, of course not, don’t be ridiculous’, and then convince Alexis to keep everything a secret, to go on with the show as normal.
But did she want that? Or was finally saying it out loud the only way forward for her sanity, if not to stop her heart bouncing around like a ping-pong ball.
“Yes,” she sighed.
Bianca wrinkled her nose in disgust, and Birdie knew she had to explain. Really explain.
“I know it’s bad. There’s no version of it that isn’t bad,” she said. “And it’s definitely not fair to you or anyone else.”
“You think?”
“But let me explain.”
Bianca looked ready to say no, but Birdie decided to steamroll ahead anyway.
“Alexis and I met way before this, back in Portland, months ago. We met at a club and ended up in a hotel room nearby, and then she ghosted me. I never thought I would see her again, let alone here in Provence. I know she’s wanted to send me home several times, too many not to be offended.
But then we kind of just… I don’t know, we just connected, and it just kept growing from there.
” She wasn’t going to mention that first kiss in the kitchen and how it had been the catalyst for everything.
“I know it’s not an excuse. And I know we should never have snuck behind everyone’s back. ”
Bianca’s jaw dropped and dropped until she was staring mouth wide open at Birdie.
“Alexis was going to tell everyone today,” Birdie went on quickly.
She felt it was her duty to defend Alexis.
Last season, Alexis had made a colossal mistake, and she’d been punished for it.
But did she deserve to be dragged to the stake again?
Should she be torched by the public’s opinion simply because she actually did fall in love?
If she did, then Birdie would happily burn right alongside her.
“She’s been so wracked with guilt about it,” she said, softer now, almost fondly. “I know she feels bad. Really bad.”
There was an agonizingly long pause, and then Bianca grabbed the seafoam green cushion with the ruffles lying at the end of Birdie’s unmade bed and pressed it to her chest.
“Well fuck. I didn’t know you were in love,” she muttered. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told Vivian about the two of you.”
Birdie’s world tilted so fast she nearly fell. “You what?”
“I was just so angry,” Bianca said. She couldn’t get the rest of her thoughts out fast enough because suddenly there was a shout from the hallway. “Meeting in the living room!” And then three knocks accompanied Louise’s voice. “Vivian’s here! She says that we need to have a meeting.”
“Shit,” Birdie muttered under her breath.
“Damn,” Bianca said guiltily. “I’m sorry.
I wish you had talked with me, Birdie. If I had actually known you were falling in love, I would have understood and supported you.
I could actually see the love—the way you looked at each other when you thought nobody was watching.
I second-guessed myself and just told myself it was for the cameras. ”
There was no getting around this. What was that saying again? She had to face the music. And the music was an impeccably tall woman with cropped white hair and the voice of a viper. Birdie got the chills just thinking about what was potentially coming her way.
A minute later, she walked into the living room with Bianca trailing behind. She hoped Alexis would be there; just seeing her face would make all of this feel better, but she wasn’t.
It was just Vivian. And Vivian looked pissed.
“Sit,” Vivian instructed. It wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was a decree. “All three of you, please.”
Birdie chose the plush cream-colored armchair she’d sat in several times.
It was cushy and used and looked like it belonged in a home by the ocean in the Hamptons.
The cushions rose up around her and swallowed her in their buttery upholstery, but unlike every other day when she’d cozied up in it, today the chair gave no comfort.
How could it with Vivian towering over her, looking like Miranda Priestley?
Vivian rounded the coffee table. “It has come to my attention that Alexis and one of the contestants have been sneaking around like some silly love-struck teenagers.”
“What?” Louise asked, frowning deeply. She was in matching pink Lululemon yoga attire that somehow washed out her skin even more than it already was. She looked at Birdie. Then at Bianca. “Who?” she asked.
Birdie shrank further into the armchair and wished the cushions would swallow her whole.
But she couldn’t hide. The words of Louisa May Alcott zoomed into her head: I am not afraid of storms, for I am learning how to sail my ship.
And although Birdie’s ship was at risk of slamming headfirst into a coral reef, she still had a chance to steer herself to calmer water.
“Me,” she said, leaning forward.
It took so long for Louise to process it that Birdie wondered if she was surprised it was her and not Bianca. Then she leaped up and planted her hands firmly on her hips. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
“I’m sorry,” Birdie said. And she was sorry. Not for doing what she did, not for all those stolen moments, quick kisses, long kisses, and everything in between, but because they had kept it a secret. Nothing good ever came from a secret.
But Louise didn’t get a chance to go at her because Vivian pivoted on her dagger-thin heels. “Let me make something very clear,” she said icily. “The producers are pissed. Elise is busy putting fires out as we speak. And if this season wasn’t a live show, we would’ve canceled the entire thing.”
Surely it wasn’t that bad. Didn’t Greg Murrie on last season of The Bachelor admit to sleeping with not one but five of the contestants in the Fantasy Suite?
How was this worse than that? But Birdie wasn’t going to ask, and she wasn’t going to point out that when women were involved, it seemed to turn into some moral outrage.
Instead, Birdie asked. “So, what are you going to do?” She also wanted to ask where Alexis was and why she wasn’t here.
But she thought better of it. Vivian was rubbing two fingers against her forehead.
She did it fervently and excessively, as if she were polishing out a wrinkle.
She didn’t look at Birdie when she spoke.
Her gaze was fixed on Parisian by Design sitting on the coffee table.
“We’re going to finish the show as planned. ”
Both Louise and Bianca looked aghast. Which was completely understandable and entirely fair. No one would want to continue competing in a show knowing the bachelorette had already made her choice. It was like starting a race when the winner had already sailed through the finish line.
“We’re offering both of you an all-inclusive, week-long stay at the Riviera Hotel in Nice if you agree to go through with the show.” Vivian said. “Five-star amenities, spa treatments, private beach access. Flights included.”
She didn’t even have to say Birdie; you get nothing, because it wouldn’t be true. She was getting Alexis and, in Birdie’s opinion, that was better than an expensive holiday anywhere.
“So technically, you’re bribing us?” Bianca said.
“Yes, technically you could use that term,” Vivian said without missing a beat. “Technically, we’re incentivizing you to stay and finish the show.”
“Well, I’m in,” Louise said, grinning. She flopped back against the sofa with her arms and legs splayed over the cushions. “I’ve always wanted to go to Nice. I certainly would never be able to afford this kind of trip.”
All eyes shifted to Bianca, who was perched on the loveseat. She had one impossibly long leg tucked under her, and her fingers drummed on her knee. She didn’t look as convinced as Louise, but she also didn’t look unconvinced.
“I need your answer,” Vivian said, folding her arms across her chest.
“Fine,” Bianca said with a hard breath out. “I haven’t been to Nice in years. It will be nice to visit the Cours Saleya market again.”
Vivian looked satisfied, if not a little pleased. “Good. Then the show goes on.” She turned toward Birdie, and her expression hardened like cement. “And as for you, no more sneaking around.”
“Of course, understood.”
Vivian dropped her arms and smiled that plasticky host smile that the audience probably ate up like cheesecake.
Birdie, however, did not. Not anymore, at least. “There won’t be a date today.
Let’s call it a free day, shall we? You can do whatever you please.
” Vivian flourished an arm out to the deck, and Birdie knew what that meant.
Do whatever you want, but don’t venture anywhere beyond the four walls of the villa.
And then, just like that, Vivian left.
Birdie should’ve felt relief at seeing her go, but she didn’t, because as soon as the front door clicked shut, both Louise and Bianca turned toward her, probably ready to bombard her with a gazillion questions. And she had no choice but to answer.