Chapter Twenty-Eight
Week Four Interviews, Clips:
“Georgia has been my best friend since college. I know everything about her. I really want her to find the love that she so desperately deserves.”
Since my parents bailed, I assume it’ll just be Roland and me for our date at the end of the week.
The producers have all been tight-lipped, and the one person who might actually tell me something—Rhett—has been kept so busy that I haven’t seen him since our first day in Italy.
Meanwhile, I’ve been cooped up all week, unable to go any farther than the hotel’s pristine beach.
At least I’ve had copious amounts of pasta to keep me company.
I head outside to meet Roland, wearing a corseted top and miniskirt that the producers delivered to my room.
The outfit is tight, and every time I bend down, the built-in underwire digs painfully into my chest. It’s like Lainey’s trying to become the world’s first killer to use underwear as her signature weapon.
Roland and I are driven along the coast to a dock that stretches out into the Mediterranean. Our driver, a taciturn man with a wide beard, mutters the names of landmarks in Italian.
We hop out of the car and meet the producers on the dock. Moored at the end is a small dinghy, and farther out in the water is a huge, sleek sailboat. For the cameras, Roland tells me, “I’ve got a pretty special surprise for you.”
He clearly means the boat, but I joke anyway, “Is it your penis?”
I know the reprimand is coming before Lainey even registers what I’ve said.
“GEORGIA!” she screeches. “Watch it.”
“Uh, no,” Roland says, shaking with silent laughter. “Think bigger.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Damn.”
“Enough!” Lainey shouts.
Roland throws me a wink as he says his first line again, giving me a chance for a more appropriate answer.
Once we finish filming on the dock, we hop in the dinghy and speed out to the sailboat with Lainey and a few other producers.
As I climb the ladder up to the deck of the bigger boat, I keep my focus trained on the rungs beneath my hands.
It’s only about fifteen feet up, but after my last experience on a ladder, I’m wary.
I’m almost at the top when Roland starts climbing below me.
“Whew!” he says. “I’ve got quite the view.”
Harrumphing, I tug my skirt down.
I finally manage to climb onto the deck, where a camera crew has already set up.
At one end, a few large built-in benches are covered with colorful pillows that match the green-blue ocean.
Two people are already seated on the benches, but before I get a good look, Roland hops up beside me and slings an arm around my waist.
“Do we have company?” I ask. I’d assumed this would be one of those make-out-on-deck dates Love Shack is so fond of.
The boat rocks with the ocean as Roland says, “Surprise!”
He spins me around so I’m facing the seating area, and once I take a few steps closer, I see what—or more accurately, who—the surprise is. I might’ve preferred a one-on-one with Roland’s tongue.
Because sitting on the couches are two people I do not want within fifteen feet of each other.
“Serena?” I squawk.
And beside her, with no clue just how much Serena really knows about him: Rhett.
I don’t have long to recover before Roland says, “Since your family couldn’t come, I wanted you to have someone special here.”
That much I’d figured out, but it doesn’t explain Rhett’s presence.
“It’s sooo good to see you!” Serena squeals. “And I can’t believe I get to meet the Roland Marchetti!” She throws her arms around me and Roland so I’m in the middle of a human sandwich I don’t like one bit.
“And I figured I’d bring a friend too,” Roland says, shrugging a little bashfully. “Rhett has been my rock through this whole process.” He pats Rhett’s shoulder. “I’m proud to have a guy like him as my best friend.”
“Awww,” Serena coos. “I just love dude friendships. They’re so special.”
I’m a hundred percent sure that Rhett does not consider Roland his best friend, so I can only assume that he was asked to sub in to balance out the numbers today. Just my luck: the worst double date in history.
Roland sinks down onto one of the benches and I start to sit next to him, but he pulls me onto his lap, snaking his arm around my waist. One look at Lainey tells me not to bother protesting, so I snuggle into his side as naturally as I can.
When I catch Rhett’s eye, instead of his usual pained expression, he tugs a smile down, running his hand over his jaw like he’s trying not to look amused.
Norbert swoops in and places a tray of drinks and pastries on the small table between the benches. “So, how’s it been going?” Serena asks, leaning forward. “I want to hear everything.”
Roland doesn’t miss a beat. “Right from the first night, I knew Georgia was special,” he says. “And when we kissed for the first time in that hot tub, I felt such a strong physical connection—”
Without thinking, I stuff a mini cannoli into Roland’s open mouth. He splutters, powdered sugar dusting his shirt, and laughs as he chews and swallows.
“What was that for?” he asks.
Serena grins. “You guys are so cute.”
On impulse, and because Roland looks like he might continue discussing our “strong physical connection,” I lean forward and kiss him, the leftover sugar melting on my lips.
When I pull back, I’m about to gracefully divert the conversation from my unorthodox attack on Roland’s mouth with Italian baked goods and my own face, but Lainey cuts in.
“Roland, why don’t you bring up Georgia’s parents?”
Underneath me, Roland shifts uncomfortably. “That okay?”
I give a little nod.
“Serena, I know you and Georgia have been through a lot together,” he says. “She’s told me about her parents’ divorce and how it’s affected her. Do you think she’s ready for marriage even though she never had a good model of that growing up?”
I jerk my head around to look at him, then slide off his lap. That sounded more like Lainey ventriloquizing through Roland than anything he’d come up with.
Serena barely bats an eye as she answers. “Georgia’s definitely ready to settle down,” she says as every fiber of my body screams the opposite. “Even though her parents messed her up a bit, she knows how to have a real relationship.”
“I—” I try to interrupt, to point out that I’m right here and they can stop talking about me in the third person, but Serena isn’t done.
“I think trust is what Georgia struggles with the most,” she says. “Knowing who to trust and when, since her dad basically destroyed her trust by leaving.”
I gape at her. “He didn’t leave,” I protest, even though middle school me had felt quite differently. “They—they split up. They separated.”
“Right.” Serena shrugs. “But you barely saw him. You didn’t live with him anymore.”
“That’s how divorce works,” I say through gritted teeth. I don’t know why I’m defending my parents now, since I’ve exploited their breakup for the cameras before, but they’re my parents. Serena has no business attacking them. She didn’t even know me back then.
“They were trying their best,” I say more calmly.
“And sometimes…” I look out over the sparkling ocean, then back at the others.
My eyes find Rhett’s. “Sometimes relationships have an expiration date. Sometimes divorce is the best option—for everyone involved. I wouldn’t have wanted them to stay married if they were unhappy. ”
Rhett gives me a ghost of a smile as Serena turns to him. “What do you think about that, Rhett?” she asks. “I know you have a little experience with divorce yourself.”
Rhett nods, and I get a sour taste in my mouth.
“Serena,” I interrupt, “why don’t we have a private chat?” I pull her to her feet before anyone can step in. “I have so much to tell you.”
Too late, I remember that the cameras will follow us.
Serena and I settle on a bench on the other side of the sailboat.
“I can tell you like Roland so much,” she says, clasping my hand. “And the way he looks at you? He’s completely in love. Have you told him yet?”
I blink at her, shocked by how effortlessly she’s playing into the narrative of the show. She’d be so much better in my place.
“No, not yet. It just hasn’t been the right time.”
She nods, looking disappointed. “I’m sure you’ll find the right moment. Just make sure he knows how you feel. I know sometimes you have trouble with that.” My skin prickles at her words. They’re not untrue, but I don’t need her to explain my issues to me.
“I’m so happy for you, G. He’s such a great guy. And those biceps!” She sighs, rolling her eyes up like she’s about to faint.
The cameras cut once we’re done talking, and Jules steps forward to remove Serena’s body mic and replace the batteries on mine.
“Hang on,” she mutters. She steps away to get more batteries and for a second, Serena and I are alone.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I hiss. “Did they ask you to come?”
“A producer called me after they told your parents not to come.”
My jaw drops. “They did what?”
“I guess Lainey called your mom and dad and told them not to come,” Serena explains. “I figured that was what you wanted.”
I shake my head, shutting my eyes. The most unbelievable part is that after everything Lainey has done, I’m still surprised.
Even though she apologized, of course she’s still out to get me.
Or—to get the best content she can before she tosses me aside.
But the idea that she involved my parents without my permission has my blood boiling.
“You didn’t know?” Serena asks.
I snap back to attention. “No, of course I knew,” I lie.
She visibly relaxes. “You’re a better actress than I thought—you seemed really shocked when you saw me.”
Giving a weak laugh, I place a hand on her knee. “I’m just … glad you wanted to come.”
She wiggles her eyebrows, nodding. “Think I’d pass this up after what you sent me?”
The texts. Roland’s texts. Rhett’s texts. “Listen,” I plead. My fingers close around her bony wrist. “You can do whatever you want with the information about Roland. But not the messages from Rhett. I think the press is onto it anyway.”
“Oh, I know.” Serena winks.
The realization hits me like a wave. I don’t have to ask, but I do anyway, because I need to hear her say it.
“It was you? You leaked the information about his arrest?”
She grins. “Yup. I couldn’t publish under my name, of course, if I wanted to come on the show.” She leans in, like we’re sisters sharing secrets. “But I figured if it was out there, it would generate more hype for when I do go public with all the other details.”
“What other details?” I ask, my voice faint.
“The hookups, obviously. I just need to wait until I can confirm how many there were. It would be so much better if there were multiple women,” she adds wistfully.
I wrinkle my nose at the comment. When Serena and I started out in journalism together, it was always about exposing the truth, helping the underdog.
But somewhere along the way, our values seem to have completely diverged.
Beneath us, the boat sways ominously. We’re not sailing—that would be too hard for the cameras—but the water is choppy. I grip the railing beside me.
“Please don’t publish that,” I whisper.
She pauses in the middle of adjusting her bra and frowns at me. “But it’s so juicy. Did you make a deal with him or something?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
“Georgia, come on,” she scoffs. “He’s a celebrity, you can’t seriously trust him.”
It’s exactly why he didn’t trust me, didn’t believe we could be something real. I refuse to believe it could be a reason for me not to trust him as well.
“You don’t know him.”
“Do you?” she asks, raising a penciled eyebrow.
I deflate a little, then square my shoulders. “Don’t country singers have random hookups all the time? Nobody’s going to care.” She doesn’t look quite convinced, so I push on. “I think something on Roland will do better once the season airs. Especially if it’s right before Wimbledon.”
I hold my breath as she considers, silently begging her to agree with me. If she keeps going with the Rhett hookup story, it’s only a matter of time before she finds out that the woman was me.
She purses her lips, then nods. “You’re probably right. Do a little digging anyway, though, okay? Try to find out more from Rhett.”
“But if I get you stuff on Roland—then you won’t need a big splashy story on Rhett.”
“I guess,” she agrees, leaning back against the railing. “Fine. If it means that much to you.”
“I’ll keep digging,” I promise.
Never mind that it will ruin Roland’s life. But between him and Rhett, I have to choose the latter. Especially since I’m the one who gave Serena the ammunition to leak the story about his arrest. I’ve thrown him into the headlines once—I can’t do it again.
“If you’re going to stay, you’ll need to step up your game,” she says, changing tactics. “I’m sure the others have already said the big ‘I love you’. You can’t be the only holdout—he’ll send you home.”
“I—”
“Georgia,” she interrupts. “We talked about this. You have to play the game. I can’t be going around keeping secrets and making concessions if you’re not even doing your part. Just buck up and be sure of yourself for once.”
As she says this, a flush rushes through me because it’s all so clear, so sickeningly obvious.
I’m not sure of myself. I don’t know who I am.
That’s why Rhett and Roland shouldn’t want me.
But that’s exactly why I’m perfect for Serena.
Even before this assignment, through all our years of friendship, she’s been a knife, cutting me down, building me up, until I’m exactly who she wants me to be.
But I won’t be pushed around anymore. Not by her, not by Lainey, not by anyone. If I don’t get the job, so be it. But I will protect Rhett. And that means I have to stay and finish this assignment before I can leave Serena behind for good.
I take a deep breath and straighten up. “You have to trust me. This is on my terms, okay? I’m the one on the front lines, so you have to stop micromanaging me.”
Wordlessly, Serena reaches into her bra and pulls out a small flip phone. She leans forward and tucks it into the front of my corseted top.
I smooth the fabric down as Jules reappears and snaps new batteries into the pack tucked against my waist. I stare at Serena as Jules feeds the wire up the back of my shirt, bisecting the few inches of bare skin like a tattoo.
Serena meets my eyes, arms crossed. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”