16. Max
MAX
This week is wearing on me.
Now that Molly’s gone, the house is quiet, and the air feels heavy.
Tomorrow night, I’ll send Delaney packing.
After that it’s hometown visits with Colette and Grace, and then I finally get to go home.
I’ll be on lockdown in my apartment until the finale, where I’m expected to propose to Grace and officially turn my life into a circus.
I watch from the hallway as Heidi checks in with Delaney. She nods along while Delaney’s clearly complaining about something.
I’ve wondered why Heidi’s so protective of the girls. She snaps at me if I say a bad word about them. Over the weeks I’ve picked up pieces of the story from stray comments, crew gossip, and a couple of things she let slip.
Her parents died when she was young, and she and her little sister, Clara, went to live with their aunt. From the way she talks about it, it sounds like Heidi was the one taking care of Clara. Once you’ve spent your life watching out for someone else, I guess it’s hard to stop.
I think the part of this show that chews these girls up bothers her more than she lets on.
But I don’t really know.
When Delaney walks away, Heidi turns and catches my eye. Her eyebrows lift in a sharp, pointed look. Stop staring. She’s constantly worried someone will notice me watching her and piece together that we’re involved.
Involved is the only word for it right now.
I know she’s into me. But the moment I bring up the future, she shuts me down. She won’t think past next week.
I’ve been trying to figure her out without pressing too hard, but her hesitation is starting to matter. We work. We fit. I just want to know what’s holding her back, because it can’t just be the show.
There’s one person here who might have an answer. Miles has worked with Heidi before; he might have seen something she hasn’t told me. Or maybe I’m just getting desperate.
When Marissa pulls Heidi aside, I take the opening and head to the control room. I don’t like going behind her back, but what choice has she given me?
It’s just Miles and a PA who’s fixed to a monitor on the far side of the room, out of earshot.
Miles is leaning back in his chair, coffee in hand, staring at a freeze-frame of Grace on the main screen.
She’s at her dresser, the white silk strap of her slip fallen just far enough to show the line of her shoulder.
“Working hard?” I ask.
Miles jumps, hitting play quickly. On the monitor, Grace slides her strap back up. Miles spins his chair around, looking caught.
“Boss isn’t here,” he says, glancing toward the door as if Heidi might materialize at any second.
“I came to talk to you, actually.” I pull a chair out and sit beside him. “Heidi’s in a mood today,” I say, leaning back and looking at the monitor like I’m just venting. “She’s in a mood every day, come to think of it. Is she always that way or is it for my benefit?”
“She’s just doing her job,” he says. “She’s like that while the cameras are rolling. But once the show wraps and the drinks start flowing? She’s a completely different person.”
I hadn’t expected that. I mean, I know Heidi behind the scenes, she’s not completely different.
“In what way?” I ask.
“Look,” Miles leans closer, like he’s telling me a secret. “You’d be surprised how well Heidi cleans up. And when she finally relaxes, she gets very…friendly. You should have seen her at the wrap party for season two. Couldn’t keep her hands off me.”
That doesn’t sound like the Heidi I know. I’ve seen her relaxed but I can’t imagine her being that way with Miles. It doesn’t fit. But as I look at him, it occurs to me that I might not know her as well as I thought.
“Hard to imagine,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“I know. It caught me by surprise, too,” Miles says. “She doesn’t know it, but I was messing around with a PA back then, so I couldn’t really act on it. But this year?” He gives me a conspiratorial nudge. “I might finally give her what she wants.”
I stare at him, the disgust rising. He keeps talking, oblivious.
“I think I’ll actually ask her out once we wrap. We’ve got a lot in common, really. We see the world through the same lens. I think she saw it first; it just took me a little longer to catch on.”
He’s talking like she’s been quietly waiting for him to notice her, like this whole time he’s been the one she actually wants.
It doesn’t track. It just doesn’t.
But then the thought slips in. Is that why she won’t commit to me? Because I’m just the placeholder until the guy she really wants decides to look her way?
“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe she was just having fun at the party. Maybe you’re reading too much into it.”
“Nah,” he says easily. “The other night she leaned over my shoulder while I was checking a cut. Stayed there a little too long, pressing right up against me. Trust me. That wasn’t an accident.”
My jaw tightens as the image of Heidi rubbing up against Miles flashes through my mind.
He turns back to the screen, watching raw footage of Grace brushing her hair.
“Heidi’s no Grace, obviously,” he says with a shrug. “But I bet she’s fun once you get her behind a closed door.”
My chair screeches against the floor as I stand.
“Right,” I say. “Good chat.”
As I leave the control room my chest feels tight. I wanted answers, but I don’t like the one I got.
Miles? The thought makes my stomach turn. He’s delusional. He has to be. Just because a woman stands near him for more than five seconds, suddenly it’s a signal?
Still…the image won’t leave.
I shove it down and head for the makeup trailer, my jaw already aching from clenching it.
“I need to make a call,” I say to Margot as I step inside. I don’t even try for the usual charm.
“You okay?” Margot asks, studying my face.
She reaches to straighten my collar and I catch her wrist before she can touch me.
“Please,” I say quietly. “Not right now.”
She pauses, reading something in my face. Then she slips her phone into my pocket without another word.
I step back outside and start walking down the driveway. The noise of the crew fades behind me with every step. I keep going until the house feels far enough away, until no one can hear me.
I pull the phone from my pocket and call Will.
While it rings, I stare at a hedge along the drive, like if I look at it long enough it might come to life and offer some kind of answer.
If I were giving advice to anyone else, I’d tell them to forget about Heidi.
Let her flirt with Miles. Let her do whatever she wants.
If she wants to walk away from me, that’s her loss. Simple.
But the truth sits heavy in my chest. I can’t let her go.
It isn’t even an option. I know she says this place is a pressure cooker, that it makes you feel things that aren’t real, but it’s not true for us.
I knew from the moment I met her there was something different about her.
She doesn’t look at me the way other people do.
She challenges me. Sees straight through my bullshit.
And somehow she still likes me. I know she does.
And the thought of her with someone else…with Miles. My grip tightens around the phone.
No fucking way.
The conversation with Miles from this morning is still echoing in my head.
I’m sitting under the pergola with Colette, surrounded by tubes of pigment and the sharp scent of turpentine.
We’re filming a painting date. I’m at one easel, Colette at the other.
We were instructed to paint the creature that represents our current internal landscape.
When we finish, we have to present our paintings and explain why we chose them.
Colette goes first. She turns her canvas toward me. It’s a swan, painted with soft brushstrokes and pale pastel colors. She talks about grace, loyalty, and how swans mate for life. It’s thoughtful and romantic. Exactly the kind of thing viewers at home will love.
I’ve painted a wolf.
Not a majestic, howling-at-the-moon wolf. A predator. Bared teeth, narrowed yellow eyes, a body coiled like it’s ready to tear something apart.
When Colette finishes explaining her painting, it’s my turn.
I clear my throat.
“It’s about loyalty. Wolves protect their pack. That instinct to keep the person you love safe from everything else.”
Colette lets out a soft aww, an enamored sound echoed by a few of the other women standing around the set. They think it’s romantic. It isn’t.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Heidi standing by the far camera. Then, like he’s taunting me, Miles steps up beside her. Why is he out of his hovel? My jaw tightens as I look back at the painting, the wolf’s yellow eyes staring up at me.
“A wolf would tear someone’s throat out for his pack,” I mumble.
Colette glances at me, then over to Marissa, like she’s not quite sure how to respond.
“Right,” Marissa says from behind us. “And maybe we can end this on a kiss?”
It’s not really a question. The crew moves in immediately, shifting our stools and angling the easels until the shot is perfect, the lighting catching the wolf and the swan in the same frame.
I tell myself not to look, but I can’t help it. My eyes drift toward the far camera. Heidi is still talking to Miles, her head bent close to his. She isn’t even watching the scene.
I close my eyes and press my lips to Colette’s, trying to get it over with as quickly as possible.
“Like you mean it,” Marissa says quietly.
I slide my hand to Colette’s jaw and tilt her head back, deepening the kiss.
I go through the motions, performing the intimacy with a practiced, mechanical ease that makes my skin crawl.
I’m kissing one woman for the cameras while every instinct in me is screaming to walk across the grass and pull another away from the man standing next to her.
“Cut.”
The moment Marissa calls it, I pull away and head straight for Heidi. Miles is still there. He raises his eyebrows as I approach. He clearly has no idea how close I am to strangling him.
Will and I talked about a plan this morning. How to make Heidi see a future with me and only me.
It’s time to execute.
“I need a couple of hours off tomorrow,” I say.
Heidi turns toward me, taking a small step away from Miles.
“There’s no time off, Max.”
“I have a lunch commitment. Two hours. Non-negotiable.”
“It doesn’t work like that—” Heidi starts.
“It does now,” I say.
Her brow tightens. “I can’t just let you leave.”
“Then come with me. Make sure I get back on time.”
“We need to go over tonights footage tomorrow,” Miles says, stepping in like his opinion matters. “I need her in the control room.”
I finally look at him.
“I’m sure you can manage,” I say evenly. “You’re an expert, aren’t you?”
Heidi exhales slowly, like she’s already tired of this conversation.
“No. I have to oversee this.”
For a moment I just stare at her. The crew are scattered around us across the lawn, packing gear, voices low as they coil cables and haul equipment back to the trucks. And Heidi is standing there beside Miles.
She’s not taking the chance to get away with me. She’s choosing to stay here. With him.
The thought lands fast and ugly.
I picture the two of them in that cramped control room tomorrow. Miles in his chair, hunched over the keyboard. Heidi leaning over his shoulder from behind to watch the screen, just like he described it this morning. Staying there a little too long. Pressing into him.
My chest tightens.
Maybe Miles wasn’t imagining things. Maybe she likes him.
My jaw clenches.
No. Not happening.
I step closer, lowering my voice so it doesn’t carry across the garden.
“I’ve put up with a lot from you,” I say quietly. “I’ve played along. But I’m at my limit.” I hold her gaze. “Tomorrow at noon, you’re out here ready to leave with me.”
I let the words hang there for a beat.
“…or I say Grace’s name at elimination tomorrow night.”
“You wouldn’t,” she whispers.
“Try me.”
She looks at me and for a second she slips. Confusion flickers across her face. She doesn’t know what I heard this morning or what I’m planning.
“We’ll do the cut tonight,” she says after a beat. She’s speaking to Miles, but her eyes stay locked on mine. “Looks like we’ll be in the control room until three.”
The realization lands. By scheduling a late edit, she’s made sure I can’t visit her tonight and she’ll be tucked away in a dark room with Miles all night.
Miles looks a little too pleased about that.
“I’ll help,” I say.
“You?” Miles lets out a dry, condescending laugh. “Max, this is technical work. There’s nothing you can do.”
Heidi looks between us, already exhausted. “He’s right. There’s really nothing you can help with—”
“Morale,” I say flatly.
I glance back at the painting of the wolf, then at the two of them.
“Let’s get to it.”