Chapter Twelve
If the producers don’t like you, or if they start to question your motives for being on the show, they won’t hesitate to send you packing.
—Shacking Up: The Definitive, Unauthorized Guide to Winning Love Shack
When I emerge from the back hallway into the glitzy, camera-ready heart of the mansion, panic expands in my chest. Producers are running around more frantically than before. Outside, they’re already setting up for the ceremony, but it’s too early for that, isn’t it? How much time have I wasted?
Chloe catches up to me in the hall and winds her fingers around my arm.
“I can’t believe I didn’t get a chance to talk to Roland,” she whispers, eyes wide as saucers.
“I’m going home for sure. And after what Lainey said to me…
” Her eyes fill with tears and she brushes them away.
She’s far too sweet for Lainey’s mind games.
But what did she expect? Surely I can’t be the only one who knew this wouldn’t be a cakewalk.
I put an arm around Chloe, squeezing tightly. Being na?ve doesn’t mean she deserves this.
“That was horrible.” I stroke her short hair. “You’re absolutely fucking gorgeous, Chloe. They’re lucky to have you here. Roland is lucky to have you here.”
She smiles up at me. “Thanks. That’s nice of you to say, but I really feel like this is it for me.”
“There’s still time.” I nod to the huge clock on the wall, hands ticking like it’s counting down the minutes to Cinderella’s midnight. “We have another hour, right? Why don’t you go try to talk to him now?”
She shakes her head. “Lainey said we’re starting the ceremony early. We have to be in the garden in fifteen minutes. I think she’s pissed about what happened with Phil. The necrophilia comment was too far.”
My heart sinks. Did my rooftop rendezvous with Rhett cost me the chance to talk to Roland? Does that mean I’m going home tonight? I don’t know how much our tennis court kiss will count for, now that the other women have been pouring their hearts out to him all night.
As Chloe follows the rest of the women outside, I cast around for Roland, desperately trying to find him, to let him know I want this—I want him. Or at least, I want what he can give me: more time to get the intel I came here for.
Rhett stalks past, resolutely avoiding my eyes, and I frown at his retreating back. I wonder if he pulled me away on purpose, knowing I would have less time with Roland, if his apology was all a ruse.
I want to kick myself. I was so hypnotized by him that I let myself forget how much we both have to lose. Of course he wants me gone.
This house is haunted for him, and I’m just another ghost.
As Norbert shepherds us to the rose garden, Roland emerges from the mansion, flanked by producers. I double back, trying to catch him, but someone grabs me. Lainey.
“Time’s up, Little Miss Georgia,” she croons. I pull my arm away from her pinching grip.
“I just want to say—”
“Surely you’ve said everything you need to.” Her saccharine voice makes my blood curdle. “You’ve had so much time. Unless you’ve been doing something else? Something more important?”
Before I can respond, she sweeps away to whisper something to Norbert. All I can do is file forward and take my place in the wide semicircle of women.
I’m done. This has to be it. Even if Roland could forgive me for not talking to him tonight, there’s no chance Lainey will want me around if she knows where I went.
Nina catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. Next to me, Olie is fluffing her hair, which puffs into my face and makes me cough as Rhett comes out to greet us. We aren’t waiting long before the cameras are rolling and bright TV lights drown out the darkness.
“Ladies, it’s been quite the night,” Rhett begins.
His gaze flicks to me, but I don’t look at him.
I can’t look at him. I’m too busy trying to catch Roland’s eye, and when I do, he smiles.
I widen my eyes, trying to let him know that tonight was a mistake, that I thought I had more time.
And somehow, magically, he understands. His gray eyes turn up at the corners and he smiles.
He mouths something that looks like “you and me,” but I can’t be sure.
I smile back, trying to pack as much emotion as possible into my face.
Next to me, Olie is still buzzing with anticipation, and she looks at Roland, eyes shining.
“You and me, baby,” she whispers, and I frown. Now Roland is looking at her. Did I just imagine our entire silent conversation? Is he seriously talking to Olie right now?
Before I can overthink it any more, the moment has arrived. Just like he did on the first night, Roland steps forward and takes his place next to Rhett. He takes a slip of paper from his pocket and stares at it for a moment before tucking it away again.
“Before me are fifteen incredible girls,” Roland says, clasping his hands together.
I stiffen at his use of the word “girls,” and I’m not alone.
I see Nina barely control an eye roll and Brooklyn, sitting on Nina’s other side, frowns deeply before rearranging her face into a pleasant smile.
“But I can only go into next week with ten of you.”
Rhett stands stoically beside him. His green eyes flash in the TV lights, but he doesn’t look at me. Is he about to get what he wanted? Am I about to be sent home?
“Monica,” Roland says. No surprise there. I try to look happy as she floats forward and joins him at the front of the group, planting a kiss on his cheek and making him go pink. He murmurs something to her, brushes his hand against her shoulder, and then Rhett leads her into the mansion.
Addison is next. No surprise there either, though I wish he’d shocked us all and sent her home. Olie fluffs her hair again as Roland looks at us. I can’t help straightening my back, smiling even wider, like those few millimeters could make a difference in Roland’s decisions.
Nina and Brooklyn go next, called up to the front by a smiling Roland and led inside by a silent Rhett.
“Chloe.”
Chloe lets out an audible sigh of relief and hustles forward to give Roland a quick hug. She whispers something in his ear, and he smiles, blushing slightly.
Across the semicircle, Philippa watches her go inside, chin jutted forward stoically.
“Philippa,” Roland says.
She blinks rapidly, and she jerks her head to look at him. “I—” she splutters. “Are you sure?”
A few people laugh, and Roland nods, beckoning her forward. “Yes, I’m sure. Are you?”
She walks forward and gives Roland a confident peck on the cheek, like she’s the one doing him the favor of staying into next week.
Before I know it, there are seven of us left outside, and it’s lost on no one that Roland will call only two more names. One of them has to be me. But the same thought must be running through each hair-sprayed head in the garden.
My money’s on Sonya at least—and hopefully me. Both Hannah A. and Hannah L. are near tears, but I don’t think either of them stand a chance. And as much as Olie makes me laugh, she just doesn’t seem like a realistic option for Roland. Honestly, she’s too interesting for him.
“Olie,” he says. I can’t disguise the shock from my face. Occasionally, the producers keep wacky contestants around to spice things up, but something in Roland’s eyes is genuine, like he can truly see something with Olie.
She hustles forward and gives him a huge hug that melts my heart. I hope he’s not keeping her just to jerk her around. She glances back and gives me a thumbs-up as Rhett leads her away. It’s more than I deserve.
Roland pulls out his paper, but I don’t know what he expects to see there. Everybody knows he’ll call only one more name, and if he hasn’t already decided who it’s going to be, then we’re all in trouble.
“Ladies,” Rhett says, returning to Roland’s side. “There will be only one more name called tonight. The rest of you will say your goodbyes. Roland, whenever you’re ready.”
Roland looks like he might pass out. He keeps shifting his eyes between the remaining women and someone off to the side.
I glance over and see Lainey shaking her head at him.
He looks down at the paper, then goes to stick it in his pocket.
Unnoticed by him, the paper flutters to the ground as he clears his throat.
The Hannahs are vibrating with nerves. Sonya’s jaw is set, eyes trained on Roland like a hawk.
“Georgia,” Roland says resolutely.
Relief washes through me. Suddenly I’m in his arms, enveloped in a hug, and he’s whispering into my hair.
“I’m sorry you were last. I’m so sorry.”
I shake my head against his neck, inhaling a piney, minty aftershave.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, pulling back. On impulse, I kiss him on the cheek, not willing to be outdone by the women who went before me.
“Off you go,” Rhett mutters at my side. He extracts me from Roland, places his hand on the small of my back, and leads me away.
I hear Lainey say something about “closure” and glance back to see Sonya shaking with sobs. As Hannah A. says goodbye to Roland, Sonya bends down and picks up the paper on the ground.
We’re nearly out of the garden when I hear her shriek.
Rhett pauses and looks back at the group. Sonya is staring at the paper with a horrified look on her face. Her eyes find me and she points menacingly.
“You,” Sonya cries. Across the stone path, the tension crackles between us, but I have no idea what she’s talking about.
“It was supposed to be me,” she screams, and launches herself forward.
Before she closes the distance between us, Norbert grabs her around the middle and lifts her off her feet, where she screams and beats her fists against his bulky arms.
“Come on,” Rhett says in my ear. “Come on, Georgia. Quickly.”
Still staring back at Sonya, I stumble after Rhett, who pulls me off the path and into a thick grove of bushes.
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking me up and down. He wraps his hand around the microphone in his collar, and I reach into my neckline to do the same.
I nod, eyes still wide. “What was that about?”
“It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he mutters. “Sonya was the last name on his list—I saw when he dropped it—but he changed his mind. Not unheard of, but messy. Look, you have to watch out. Lainey wanted you gone, and she won’t be happy that Roland chose you anyway.”
I stare at him. “Why are you telling me this? Don’t you want me gone?” It’s the only reasonable explanation for why he’d pull me away from the party, knowing full well it could ruin my chances with Roland.
“I—” he begins, his eyebrows knitting together. But we hear people coming down the path and he tugs me out of the bushes.
Nina squeals happily when I step inside and Olie nods approvingly. Only Addison seems displeased, letting out a loud “humph” as I cross the threshold. Too bad for her that the tennis ball didn’t kill me.
Rhett melts away and I pull my eyes from him, trying to ignore my confusion. Chloe squeezes me in a hug, but my heart is still hammering from what just happened. One wrong move could mean I’m gone for good.
Roland steps into the room, and we all go silent, taking a collective breath. Champagne is passed around, but I know better than to take a sip before we toast.
“I knew it’d be you,” Chloe whispers, smiling up at me. “Don’t know how I’d survive another week without you.”
I smile back at her, but I think we’d all be happier away from this place.
Once the cameras are set up, Roland holds his champagne glass aloft and we all follow suit.
“To falling in love,” he says, eyes twinkling.
I feel Rhett’s eyes on me as I raise my own glass, but I force my gaze back to Roland. I can’t be distracted by Rhett anymore. Tonight proved how dangerous he can be. I’ve made it through one week, but there’s still five to go.
“To falling in love,” I repeat with the others.
When the cameras cut, my face finally sinks from its forced smile. My cheeks are sore. My feet are blistered. I’m desperately hungry.
It turns out that falling in love is far more painful than I could have imagined.