52. 52
Two days later, as the sun rose and another day began in quaint Chipping Campden, I was gone, heading back to London.
My countryside reprieve had been exactly what I needed.
Now, I just had to get through the next twelve hours, and then I would be free to sort out my next move.
I had no idea where I would go, no idea where I even wanted to be, and yet the vast unknown that was my future didn’t scare me in the way it had months ago.
What did set my stomach turning was the thought of finally seeing Callum. The hurt that was so sharp a week ago had since melted into a dull ache. I hadn’t even cried at all yesterday.
As the hired town car drove me closer and closer to the studio, all I had left was one lone emotion.
Anger.
I was mad at Callum. Despite what had happened with us in the end, no matter the misunderstanding and the hurt I know it caused him, when it all fell apart, he was nowhere to be found.
It was his grand idea that I stuck by, and yet I hadn’t heard from him once since the news of our arrangement broke.
Not an email or a text or a call. It had initially worried me, not hearing from him, and I spent a lot of time hoping he was okay.
But that worry quickly shifted, rolling into the annoyance that was now simmering just beneath the surface.
All I could do was take a deep breath and try to calm the raging storm in my mind.
It would do me no favors to blow up at him on live television.
I wanted to simply get in, answer the questions I was asked, and get out.
I had to look out for myself.
My public image couldn’t afford to take another hit.
***
When I pulled up to the studio where the reunion was set to be filmed, I was met by Harry, standing inside the parking garage, just as he had been on my first day all those weeks ago. It was bittersweet to have him there at both the start and end of it all.
I gave him a big hug, and we walked into the studio.
It was a hive of activity, and while most of the crew was busy running between green rooms and the stage, it would have been hard to miss the looks lobbed my way.
Each PA I walked past, every producer or crew member hustling down the hallways, didn’t exactly stop and point at me but their double takes and prolonged stares were enough to get the point across: I would be the subject of the hour.
I knew that, of course, going into the day. Had anticipated it, even. How could Callum and I not be at the top of the docket when our relationship was, according to every news program I’d watched in the last two weeks, the biggest scandal in the show’s history?
So I simply smiled back at everyone. I knew these people. Most of them had been floating around the villa in one capacity or another all summer. I knew it wasn’t personal; that it wasn’t a dig on my character. They were all probably just wondering how we had gotten away with it for so long.
I wondered that sometimes, too.
Following Harry through the maze of hallways, I let out a sigh at the sight of my dressing room. There, at least, I could have a little bit of peace.
Throwing the door open, however, I was met with chaos. Ella and Chiara had been waiting inside, and upon seeing me standing in the doorway, they both shrieked, jumping up and engulfing me in a hug.
I held onto them, the two girls who had carried me through the ups and downs of the show.
Before I knew it, we were all on the ground, clutching onto each other and chattering, tears brimming in our eyes.
Well, maybe not in Ella’s, but she was on the ground with me, so I’d take that as an emotional victory.
Harry, sensing that this was a scene that wouldn’t be broken up anytime soon, quietly backed out of the room and closed the door.
“I’m so sorry,” I cried as soon as it was just us.
“It’s okay!” Chiara assured me.
“You’re a bloody mastermind, you know that?” was Ella’s response.
“I wanted to tell you guys, but it was just supposed to be one thing and then it snowballed into something else, and by the end I was so happy I didn’t even want to think of how it started.”
They nodded, holding my hands and rubbing my back as I proceeded to tell them everything.
Each and every detail, from the very beginning in the studio’s hallway right up to getting in the car this morning.
They sometimes chimed in with a question here or there, but for the most part they sat and listened, letting me talk. Letting me get it all off my chest.
“And you haven’t talked to Callum at all?” Chiara asked.
“Nope, no word from him,” I said, my stomach tightening at the thought.
“What a prick,” she said. I just nodded.
“I overheard from some of the producers earlier that no one has been able to get in touch with him,” Ella said.
“What?” I asked.
“Yup.” Ella nodded. “He’s MIA.”
Going missing didn’t seem like something Callum would do. Then again, I had only known him in the context of the show when we didn’t have a choice about where and when to be somewhere. Who knew how he behaved in the real world; maybe he was as selfish as I originally thought him to be.
I was about to ask more, but at that moment there was a knock on the door, followed by Harry poking his head in.
“I’m sorry girls, but you all needed to have started glam five minutes ago,” he said.
“We’ll do ours in here,” Ella replied, getting up off the ground and leveling Harry with a stare that would have cracked anyone’s resolve.
Harry just shrugged his shoulders and turned back into the hallway as though he had expected her mandate.
Climbing up off the floor, I looked between Chiara and Ella. No matter what happened next, at least I had them. My worst-case scenario came true, and yet they were still here, standing by my side.
My self-reflection was interrupted by a gaggle of stylists, makeup artists, sound techs, and producers filing into the room. Girl time would have to wait.
I was ushered into a chair, my face and hair descended on by the professionals. All the while, Chiara and Ella chatted away on either side of me, never once pausing, never once giving me time to spiral into my own world of anxiety.
And then we were ready, hair made up and makeup painted on. I had kept my hair down, opting for loose waves instead of anything more complex. Slipping on the dress that had been picked out for me, I couldn’t help but laugh.
It was red. The exact same shade as the dress I wore when I first stepped into the villa.
This time, though, the shape was completely different: a gorgeous satin empire waist mini with delicate straps. It was less clingy, less stretchy and sexy and anything remotely Bella Amore, than my first red dress. This was chic and classic and, most importantly, I felt great in it.
I thought back to that first day in the villa, right before I walked in and my life changed. Just like that moment, I would use my wardrobe as armor.
I can do this.
I could walk onto that stage and face Callum, Gemma, and the world. I would be fine. I would be okay.
I had to be.
“Five minutes to stage, ladies,” Harry called out as he poked his head into the dressing room. He eyed me up and down and gave me a wink. “You look smashing,” he said.
I winked back at him, trying to will his lightness into my own demeanor.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to Chiara and Ella. Without saying a word, they each grabbed one of my hands, and we stood in a circle, taking in a final moment of calm.
“We’ll be with you the entire time,” Ella said.
“Every step of the way,” Chiara echoed.
And they were.
We walked, hand in hand, out of the room and to set.
The live studio audience went silent for a moment when I stepped foot on stage.
Quickly, though, the buzz of their whispers filled the space.
Keeping my shoulders back and my chin up, I didn’t look over to the risers where they were all seated.
I kept my focus on putting one foot in front of the other until I was stepping up onto set and sitting on the loveseat that had a piece of paper with my name on it taped to the back.
Ella and Chiara took their seats to my right, next to Liam and Alfie. Glancing around, I realized that everyone was seated with their match. Everyone except me.
I looked down at the empty space beside me.
Callum’s name was stuck on the back of the couch, same as mine, but he wasn’t here.
As the minutes ticked away and the last of the cast flooded onto set, he still wasn’t here.
Through sound checks, a whole entrance rehearsal for Gemma, and last looks by hair and makeup, the spot next to me remained empty.
Ella had been right; Callum was missing in action.
If I hadn’t been so pissed at him for leaving me to clean up our mess alone, I would have been worried about his wellbeing.
Instead, I had to steel myself for what was ahead. As a producer behind camera began to count down the moments until we were live, I focused on my breathing, on sitting up straight, on keeping my legs crossed tightly together and not adding another scandal to my running list.
And then, the little light on top of the center camera turned red and we were rolling, broadcasting live to the British public.
Gemma entered from a catwalk that had been built just for the occasion, sashaying her way down it, twirling and waving to the audience, playing her part perfectly.
Stopping in the middle of the set, she waited for the cheers to quiet down before introducing the show to the viewers both in the studio and at home.
“Welcome, to the Bella Amore Live Reunion! We’ve got a great show for you, all of your favorite, and maybe not so favorite, Bellas are here and ready to rehash their summer of love.
But first, let’s take a look back at how we got to this point.
” She nodded at the camera, holding her smile for a minute until a producer called, “Clear for video playback.”
Gemma sagged a bit but didn’t pause for a break, making her way over to the couch she would hold court from for the night.
My loveseat was right next to hers, front and center.
The rest of the cast was seated on other couches and risers behind and around us, in descending order of elimination, so that we could all be seen in one big shot.
Gemma didn’t look over at me, didn’t say anything to anyone. Instead, she shuffled a stack of cards that a producer handed her, going over the order of the show.
I looked away, and my eye caught on the video monitor across from Gemma, playing a live feed of what was being broadcast to the audience at home.
It had been placed at a diagonal from her, low enough that it wouldn’t appear on camera but close enough that she could see what was on screen.
Focusing in on it, I saw my face. And then Callum’s.
We were on a boat, smiling and laughing.
As I continued to watch, I realized it was footage of our final date.
It was the first time seeing myself on television. The first time seeing any footage of Callum and me. We looked happy. We were happy.
Now, I was sitting here, waiting to take responsibility for our actions, all alone.
The juxtaposition between then and now hit me like a slap in the face. I winced and looked away just as the past version of Callum and I kissed on screen.
It felt like being rejected all over again, and as my eyes begin to prickle, I blinked rapidly, desperate to keep the tears that started to form at bay.
Digging deep down inside myself, I tried to grasp the anger I felt earlier.
That, at least, kept me less tearful. I was clearly not anywhere near over Callum, but right here, live on stage with Gemma waiting to ask me how I was doing, was not the time nor the place to give into it.
The recap package must have finally finished because Gemma was sitting up straight and saying into the camera, “What a summer. There’s lots to get into so let’s start right away with the topic that I’m sure is on everyone’s minds.”
And here it was.
Gemma turned to angle herself toward me. I tried to smile, tried to make it seem as though it was just any other day. That I wasn’t dying on the inside, wanting to get up and run away from everything.
A hint of regret crossed Gemma’s face for a moment as she looked down at her cue cards and the notes on them.
She herself had been at the center of a few high-profile break-ups that had been splashed about the British media.
I knew without her saying anything else that she didn’t love turning that microscope onto me now.
I tried to take solace in her hesitance and the kindness it signaled for as long as I could.
But this was show business, and the entertainment machine that was Bella Amore was one that would not be stopped, no matter how badly anyone felt. It was only a matter of seconds before Gemma was back on form and plunging ahead.
“So, Poppy. Was any of it real?”