“Same,” Trace said on my other side.
“Sofia?” Rita asked.
Sofia acted as if none of this mattered in the slightest. “Don’t know. Probably my girlfriends.”
“They must really care about you,” Rita said before turning her attention to me. “Calla?”
I sat there, motionless, not entirely processing that she was speaking to me. Because of course I knew. It must have been my sister. My sister, the person I was closest to in the entire world. The one who had handed me the application for the writing show and begged me to fill it out until she was blue in the face. The person who knew me better than anyone on the planet. But that couldn’t be right, because how could she possibly have done this to me after all that I had gone through?
All eyes were on me. I had let an uncomfortable amount of time pass after Rita’s question.
“My sister.” My voice came out barely above a whisper. The microphones might have even failed to pick it up.
Rita focused on me. “You seem a little nervous, Calla.”
“I-I’m,” I stammered, but didn’t manage to form any real words.
“Of course she’s nervous,” Rachel snapped. “You’re springing this on us.”
Rita held up her hands. Even through my stunned haze, I couldn’t help but admire what a pro she was. Here she was, breaking this shocking news to us, and she hadn’t missed a single beat.
“I completely understand you all have your reservations,” she continued. “But I can assure you, this process has been designed to not only find you a compatible match, but to also help you grow and work on yourself.” She looked to Trace. “Trace, I can’t help but sense a little bit of excitement radiating off you.”
“Oh, well.” She cleared her throat and sat up. “I mean, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed there’s no singing competition. But...”
“Go on,” Rita pressed.
“I suppose I’ve never been in love before. I’ve always wanted to meet someone. To have the fairy tale ending.” She ducked her chin and blushed.
Rachel’s soft groan next to me told me she was likely not impressed with Trace’s heartfelt admission.
“Same,” Sofia added hurriedly. “I love this idea. I can’t wait to meet the right guy, someone who will sweep me off my feet and take my breath away.”
Her words sounded like a well-rehearsed script. It seemedsome of us weren’t as upset as others about the change of plan.
Rita clapped her hands. “I’m glad at least some of you are excited about this.” She eyed Rachel and me. “And for the rest of you, I urge you to stay open-minded.”
Rita stepped away from the couch and moved toward the center of the room before gesturing down the hallway opposite the one from which we had emerged.
“Time to bring out the boys. Remember, they’ve had only as much time to adjust to this news as you have.”
“This is ridiculous,” Rachel muttered.
Trace eagerly perched herself on the edge of the couch. Meanwhile, I could barely fight back the lump in my throat. I needed to get out of there, but my body had betrayed me. It wouldn’t respond to my basic brain signals.
“Alright, let’s meet your first guy,” Rita said, as if introducing a prize onThe Price Is Right.
A guy in his late twenties emerged first. He wore a tight white T-shirt, skinny jeans, and an open black jacket. His white-blond hair was perfectly gelled back. He walked over and stood next to Rita before turning to us and rubbing his hands together.
“Welcome, Grant.”
Grant’s grin resembled a wolf’s as he sized us all up.
“Ladies, how are you all doing? I thought I’d be here for a competition to win money, but”—he held out his arms and shrugged— “I suppose love is the next best thing, right?”
“Kill me,” Rachel mumbled.
My breakfast from earlier threatened to make a reappearance at this cheesy display. There was no way this guy and I had scored even remotely close to each other on any compatibility test. Before I could process any more than that, a tall, lanky guy with frameless glasses and kind eyes enteredthe room. His cheeks were beet-red and he gave us a shaky wave.
