Chapter 33
Rose
Her mother’s house smelled the way it always had — of coffee, something baked that morning, the warmth of a house that was genuinely lived in. Rose had forgotten how much she needed that until she was sitting in the middle of it with a blanket over her knees.
From down the hall, Daisy’s room was producing the cheerful noise of three small children negotiating the terms of some elaborate game. Priya wanted to be the queen. Alfredo wanted to be a dinosaur. Daisy had appointed herself director of proceedings.
Quinn was stretched out on the floor. Kayla had the armchair. Rose had the sofa, which her mother had arranged with a blanket and a cup of tea before she’d even asked.
It had been an insane few days. The photographers had been camped outside the house on the hill to the point where nobody could get in or out without being documented.
Every gossip site was running the same story in rotating variations —Are Trina and Lizanne back together?
Did Lizanne ever really love Rose? What does the wedding planner think?
Rose had stopped reading them on day two, which meant she was relying on Quinn to summarize, which was only marginally better.
She’d been offered a reality show of her own.
The Jilted Wedding Planner. She had turned it down in under thirty seconds, the fastest professional decision she’d made in years.
Kayla was running Delaney Events in the meantime with the brisk competence of someone who had been waiting for an excuse to take the wheel.
Rose was, in the language of her own industry, temporarily unavailable.
Her mother reached for the remote.
“Mom,” Rose said. “I’m watching that.”
“You’re not watching it. You’re staring at a polar bear thinking about something else.” Her mother changed the channel. “Watch this instead.”
“I don’t want to watch—”
“Rose.” Quinn sat up. He and Kayla were looking at her with the same expression. “Watch.”
On screen, a graphic appeared against a clean white background.
THE WHOLE TRUTH.
Rose sat up.
The set was simple — two chairs, good lighting, no studio audience.
The interviewer was a woman Rose vaguely recognized, not tabloid but proper television, the kind of journalist known for not letting things go.
Across from her, in a dark blazer with her hair down and her hands folded in her lap, was Lizanne.
She looked composed. She always looked composed.
But Rose had spent enough time with that composure to see that something was different tonight.
The careful control was still there, but underneath it, instead of the usual smooth management, there was something that looked very much like someone who had decided to stop.
The interviewer leaned forward.
“Lizanne, let’s start with what everyone is asking. Is there any truth to the reports that you and Trina Holmes are reconciling?”
“No.” Lizanne didn’t hesitate. “I have no interest in reconciling with Trina. We had good years together. That’s true.
But the relationship was over well before our wedding — I’d known it for a long time, and I think she had too.
I thought getting married might change something. That was my mistake, not hers.”
“And the photograph?”
“Trina came to see me a few weeks ago. She showed up wanting to talk. I should have ended the conversation before it got as far as it did.” A pause. “She kissed me. I pushed her back. She had a photographer ready, which tells you everything you need to know about how that meeting was planned.”
The interviewer tilted her head. “That’s a significant claim. Do you have anything to support it?”
“I do.” Lizanne nodded toward someone off camera. A series of photographs appeared on a screen behind her. They were taken on the same day, in the same car but a different angle. The sequence was clear: Trina leaning in, Lizanne’s hands coming up, the moment of being pushed away.
Rose stared at the screen.
“She told you the truth,” Kayla said quietly.
“Lizanne found a couple of photographers she had working relationships with,” Quinn said. “In exchange for an exclusive, they gave her access to the full sequence.”
Rose didn’t answer. She was watching.
On screen, the interviewer pressed further. “The show, though … not everything we saw was real. Was it?”
Lizanne looked at her steadily. “No. Not at the beginning.” A breath.
“Rose and I had genuine feelings for each other before the show. That part is true. But the marriage came before the relationship, not after. When my engagement ended and the reality show contract was already in place, I needed a solution. I put Rose in an extremely difficult position. It began as a financial arrangement — she was dealing with significant pressure because of her daughter’s father, and I offered to help with that in exchange for her participation.
She was reluctant. She was right to be.” She paused.
“What I told myself at the time was that it was practical. What I was actually doing was using the fact that I had power over her situation to get what I wanted. That’s the honest version. ”
The interviewer was quiet for a moment. “And the feelings? When did those become real?”
Something shifted in Lizanne’s expression. The composure didn’t drop — it just became irrelevant.
“They were always real on my side,” she said.
“The arrangement gave them structure. It didn’t create them.
” A pause. “I fell in love with her. Completely. I believe she fell in love with me. What started as a deception became the most genuine thing I’ve had in my adult life.
I’m aware of how that sounds. I’m telling you anyway. ”
Rose’s mother reached over and put a hand on her knee without looking away from the screen.
The interviewer asked: “Then why are you here? Why the separation? Why the photographs in the press?”
Lizanne’s jaw tightened slightly. “Because I made mistakes. Significant ones.” She didn’t look away from the camera.
“Trina Holmes tracked down Rose’s daughter’s father.
She found him, contacted him, paid for his legal representation to pursue a custody claim against Rose.
I have the documentation. Your producers have verified it.
” She paused to let that settle. “When I found out about the custody suit, I dealt with it without telling Rose. I paid him off. She had specifically asked me not to intervene. She wanted to fight it herself, on her own terms. I decided I knew better. I didn’t. ”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I was frightened.” Lizanne’s voice stayed even.
“I have spent my entire life solving problems before they can get worse, and I didn’t stop to ask whether it was my problem to solve.
Somewhere underneath all of it, I still hadn’t learned the difference between protecting someone and controlling their life.
” A pause. “Rose taught me that difference. I learned it too late to avoid doing the thing she’d asked me not to do. ”
“And the Trina situation — not telling Rose about the contact?”
“Same instinct. Different application. I was managing the situation so Rose wouldn’t have to worry about it. That is not how a marriage works. I know that now.”
The interviewer leaned back. “You’re being very candid. You understand this could cost you.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re doing it anyway.”
“I’m doing it because Rose deserves to hear the truth. Not a statement drafted by my publicist. The truth.”
“Is there anything you want to say to her? If she’s watching?”
Lizanne looked directly into the camera.
“I love you,” she said. “That has never been a performance. Everything else I got wrong. That I didn’t.”
The screen cut to a commercial.
The room was quiet.
Rose sat very still. She had not expected the accountability. She had wanted honesty. She had not quite believed she would get it.
Her mother’s hand was still on her knee.
“She means it,” her mother said.
Quinn said nothing. Kayla said nothing. From down the hall, Daisy and Priya and Alfredo were still negotiating the dinosaur-queen situation, entirely unaware that the world had shifted slightly on its axis.
Rose opened her mouth and then closed it again. Before she could find the words, a car pulled up outside and a familiar figure was visible through the window.
“Interviews are pre-recorded,” he said.
Rose got up. Her heart was going at a pace entirely disproportionate to the four steps between the sofa and the front door, but she crossed them anyway, put her hand on the door handle, and opened it.