Chapter 27
PIPPA
Idon’t have any words left. My battery is dead. I talked to my mom at length about the scene at dinner. I cried on my father’s shoulder. My sister and I texted. Prayers were sent up repeatedly. But the one person I haven’t exchanged words with is Chase.
At least not until we’re on our way to the airport to fly to Boston for the remainder of the Blancbourg program.
Taking the lessons that Chase learned out of the classroom and into real life is the practical portion that will offer him the opportunity to demonstrate that he learned his lesson and improve his public image.
Last night, I pleaded with Cateline to switch students, but it’s too late, impossible. That leaves me with only one choice. I have to keep my personal and professional lives separate. Those are the rules and the rules are how I keep afloat and not sink in an ocean of overwhelm.
We travel first class. Although the leather seats are roomy, ignoring Chase is proving to be more and more difficult.
After the night at the fair, I successfully distanced myself over the week, fully inhabiting the role of teacher and not the lovesick teenager that threatened to rear her head at every opportunity.
When he blinks.
When he breathes.
Being around Chase Collins has become physically painful. Excruciating. My chest is hot yet hollow. My eyes are itchy and dry, even though half the time the unsteadiness in my jaw threatens tears.
Confirming that Chase stands to gain financially when he gets married makes me wary that all he’s after is more money, which is just as well because I have to keep work and my personal life separate.
Marlow inserting herself into the situation cripples me with worry. Even though Chase and I can’t take things further, and I fear he’s out for a payday and nothing more, I don’t wish him the horror of a life spent with her.
I cannot get the look on Chase’s face while we were at dinner out of my head. It was brief but powerful. It was a message that I still can’t decipher. I cannot imagine a world in which he’d want to marry Marlow. But if his father holds the purse strings...
I want to marry for love. Not because of my mother’s aspirations to be part of the elite class by proxy. Not for money or prestige or any of it.
The conversation with my sister to find someone to date landed me with a dating coach. The trip to London was perfect timing because I was able to meet at her office. She wanted to know what I want in a man, so I brought her The Crush List.
It consists of things Chase specifically did in high school that made me fall for him, but not so specific that anyone would know it’s about him. Thankfully, I crossed out identifying details. Unfortunately, I left it there by accident, so Phoebe is going to pick it up for me.
My new dating coach and I have been texting back and forth ever since.
She invited me to star as a contestant on her new show, Crush or Cupid.
I suggested she write a book titled, “The Introverts Guide to Dating.” I feel like I have a new best friend until I receive a work email just before the flight attendants tell us to turn off our devices.
My stomach drops through open air and we haven’t even left the ground.
The email is from the Crush or Cupid production team, but it’s not about me. It contains instructions and potential love matches for Chase.
He’s the star of the show.
And the weird luck is back!
A little yelp, groan, and moan hybrid escapes.
“You okay?” Chase asks.
No. While we’re in Boston, a film crew is going to follow us around while he works his way through candidates for true love.
First, our parents try to arrange our marriage.
Then, Marlow and Mr. Collins conspire for them to get married.
Now, Chase will be on national television, going on dates with viewers voting on whether the various women are marriage material.
Talk about a tangled web. I’m nearing critical mass, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Never mind the fact that I’m trapped in a capsule being propelled across the Atlantic, I can’t make Chase, my parents, his parents, Marlow, or the television producers do anything. Helplessness paralyzes me.
I’m just one person—a person who will need a power boost if I’m going to make it through the next several weeks. But I will, because I always do. Then I’ll retreat to my sweet little apartment in the village outside Intherness and forget any of this ever happened.
Well, we all know I won’t forget about my crush, even if he finds his Cupid, but I’ll just have to live with that.
Expecting Chase to watch a movie, read, or go on his phone, he sits there for the next hour, staring ahead as if watching an old black and white silent picture of his life falling apart and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Same.
But I’m his coach. It’s my job to help him fix this.
“I don’t blame you for not wanting to marry Marlow,” I say.
Chase startles as though accustomed to how uncharacteristically quiet I’ve been lately. “That would be a nightmare.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.”
His gaze drifts toward me. “What do you mean?”
“I received an email about the show you’re starring in called Crush or Cupid. The production team contact, Tory, sent me a catalog of potential matches. Filming starts when we get to Boston.” My voice sounds robotic because this isn’t the solution of my heart.
Chase’s face falls into his palm and he rubs his eyes. “Why is this happening?”
I swallow. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised. Let’s see. There’s Melissa. She’s a veterinarian and look, she’s adopted twelve cats. How altruistic.”
“I’m allergic.”
I scroll down. “Okay, how about Gwen? She’s a computer programmer and has maintained the highest score of anyone in her office on the video game WarStarUniverse. It says here that she’ll date whoever can beat her.”
“I don’t play video games.”
“You could learn.”
“Despite my father’s objections about my career, outside of this month on probation, I’m a very busy man.”
“Too busy for long walks on the beach? Look at this profile. Allie loves the outdoors, adventures abroad, and...hates football.” I tilt my head, wondering how carefully they screened these people.
Chase scrunches up his face like this conversation is worse than cat dander. “Why does Rhiannon hate me?”
The name comes at me slowly, letter by letter. “Who?”
“My sister. Rhiannon. She was a successful dating coach and that landed her a spot making dating shows like Hen House and now Crush or Cupid.”
“Your sister is Rhiannon?”
‘Don’t tell me you’re a fan of that trash.”
My pulse rushes in my ears as fast as this plane hurtling through the sky and my stomach drops like we hit turbulence. “Actually, I am a fan and Rhiannon is my dating coach.” My voice wavers, wishing it weren’t so.
“Why do you have a dating coach?”
“Because—so I could—I need to—never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Chase scrubs his hand down his face. “Don’t you think it’s a conflict of interest for my life coach to have a dating coach who is also my sister?”
I open and close my mouth because, yes, I do think so. “It would be rude to turn all of these women down and we both know being rude is against the rules.”
“What if I start making up the rules?” Chase snaps his fingers. “There’s only one rule. Let’s forget about all this and begin again.”
“I can’t—” I can’t forget about him or be fooled again. I can’t jeopardize my job.
“For the record, I’m not marrying Marlow or anyone on that list.”
This would be the signal for him to storm off like he did at the restaurant, but even though he has the aisle seat, he couldn’t go far.
I swipe to the next candidate because I have to do my job. “Moving on.”
Chase turns to face me. “I’m not sure I can move on. Why are you doing this? Why are you encouraging my sister?”
“Because I want you to be happy.”
“I was happy, Pippa.”
“Then you had to trick me.”
“If you’re talking about the sponge cake, I thought we were good. If it’s #BruiserButt, I learned my lesson.”
“I’m talking about how you didn’t mention the reason you have to get married is because of your grandfather’s will and the inheritance. Not that it’s any of my business.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere. First of all, I don’t have to get married.
I don’t have to do anything. I don’t need the money.
My father is—” He shakes his head. “And when would I have told you? When we were on the rides with the kids? Had the moment with the cotton candy? Outside your door? Nothing like putting the moves on a girl you like and then saying ‘Oh, by the way...’” Chase thrusts his head against the back of the seat and squeezes his eyes shut.
“So, it was a moment with the cotton candy?”
Without opening his eyes, he says, “Of course it was a moment. Could’ve been the moment.”
His confirmation has the potential to shatter me into a million little shards of glass because I keep coming so close to having what I want and who I want, but something puts me back in my place—my career, Marlow, the show.
“Chase, I want to marry for love and have a true happily ever after. Not have Lady Libby the Love Liasson play matchmaker.” I don’t add that I’m also not interested in getting married to someone who only wants to fatten their bank account.
Too far. Too harsh. Even for me, known for speaking my mind.
“Then we agree.”
“And you’ll find the perfect someone on your sister’s show. You already signed the contract.”
“No, Pippa. Rhiannon signed the contract.”
“Is that legal?”
“I’m not about to sue my sister. But—” He drops his hands into his lap like he doesn’t know what else to do.
Me neither, other than sticking to my rules. The big one that I won’t break is giving up what I’ve worked hard for—my job, my home, and the quiet little life I created. “Then you’ll have to go through with it. Here, look at the candidates and we’ll select the top twelve. Sound good?”
“Sounds like singing in public atop a very tall building.”
I hold out my phone. Chase takes it slowly, reluctantly, and lets his fingers graze mine like a watercolor brush. Only, the stain on my skin feels like permanent marker.
I spend the next hour trying to convince him to take interest in someone else, leaving me to spend the rest of my life pining over him. All he finds are flaws and eventually says, “Just let my sister pick them. I’m walking the second the director says, ‘Cut.’”
“But you might get your happily ever after.” My voice shakes a bit.
“Do you want to know what would make me happy?” Chase asks.
His eyes search mine in a way that makes my belly squeeze.
“Getting married, having a family, a farmhouse somewhere with a tire swing in the front yard, a couple of dogs running around, and—” He stops himself.
...And a ton of money from his grandfather.
I bite my lip. Everything he listed, before he fell silent, is what I want.
..with him. I push the notion away. He’s proven that he isn’t the one.
For once, my weird luck showed me that I’d been tricked.
Lulled by good looks, charm, and a crush that won’t quit.
Conversation over, Chase closes his eyes. I need to get over him, so I write a new crush list—the things I’m looking for in a guy. I’ll probably have to ask for a refund for Rhiannon’s services, considering my dating coach is my crush’s sister. Time to do this on my own.
The NEW Crush List:
Handsome
Honest
Faithful
Great listener
Compassionate
Confident
Gentleman
Intelligent
Respectful
Sense of humor
Chase checks off every one of the items.
“What’s that?” A gravelly voice asks, whispering across my neck. Chase leans his head toward his shoulder, toward me.
I angle away so he can’t see. “What’s what?” I ask like I don’t know what he’s talking about.
“I thought I saw my name?”
Caught off guard, because I figured he’d fallen asleep, I tuck my list to my chest. “It said Crush. Not Chase.”
“Plotting ways to crush your enemies?”
“Not exactly.” At the moment, I’m my own enemy.
“I thought I also saw the words handsome and honest.”
“Mhmm,” I confirm vaguely. “Well, these are prerequisites for your, um, suitors. Suitees? Sweeties?”
“Honest? Yes. Handsome? Nope.” His gaze hooks mine and then drifts as he speaks. “I’m looking for a woman with brown eyes, brown hair, and full lips. Lovely neck. Medium height. Preferably with a lovely accent. Likes candles, Ted Lasso, and football. The American kind.”
His lingering gaze gives me the heart fluffies despite how much I try to ignore them. Chase is a charming flirt and isn’t number one on my crush list. No, he’s the only one, even though I know better.
Chase lets out a long breath. “Forgetting about all of this would make me happy. Moving on would make me happy. You’d—”
“Can I offer you a drink?” the flight attendant asks.
I ask for chamomile tea so I can take a nap, because I, too would like to forget about all this. But there are too many hands in our lives—his commissioner and coach, the team, our parents, and now the dating show.
I’ve hit critical mass for dealing with people and their wants, needs, desires and demands. I only have one and he’s out of reach, even though he’s seated beside me.
After a few sips of tea, I shut down in three, two, one.