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It’s the first time since Layla that I’ve wanted more than the woman I’m seeing is willing to give.
Perhaps even more alarming, she’s the first woman who makes it hard to remember what Layla looks like, or the way I felt about her.
Ellie’s somehow eclipsing everything, and yet she…
Wants to go home.
Defeated, I set my glass next to hers and stand. “All right. Let’s get you back. There’ll be hell to pay, as you pointed out, and maybe that’ll get you exactly what you want: a plane ticket back to California.”
I expect her to cartwheel back into the room and race to th
e car, but instead she turns to face me, her arms still crossed protectively against her stomach.
“What will you do?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“After I’m gone. Will you keep on with the show?”
I let out a short laugh. “Not all of us have the luxury of requesting to go home. My contract’s ironclad, and even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t break it. I don’t want to be that guy. I know it sounds ridiculous given the context, but I want to be the guy with integrity. The one who honors his commitments. I take my job seriously, even the crappy parts.”
Her arms drop and she gives me an incredulous look. “While I respect the integrity thing, truly, this isn’t just about your job, Gage. It’s your life. You’re going to get married. Or pretty darn close to it. How can you just keep going along with this?”
“Don’t worry about it, sweets. Not your problem, is it?” I pick up the nearly empty bottle as well as both glasses before heading back into the room.
She follows me inside. “I can’t play along with the farce like you can. You pretend for a living. I can’t fake something as important as a relationship, much less marriage.”
“Good thing no one asked you to.” I toss back the rest of the champagne and set the empty glass aside. “Also, maybe you should have thought through your moral snobbery before you signed up for the show.”
“I already told you, Marjorie signed me up.”
“Right.” I rub my forehead and turn to face her. “It’s Marjorie’s fault you’re in Hawaii in the first place, my fault you’re still here. Tell me, Ellie, are you responsible for any part of your own life?”
She winces, but I’m too frustrated to apologize just yet.
Ellie runs a hand over her damp hair before dropping her arm. “Okay. I deserve that.”
“I shouldn’t have said it,” I say quietly. “Look, you’re right. We should get back. We’ve had a good time today. It’s better to leave it with hot sex and ‘Have a nice life.’?”
She nods, but neither of us moves.
“Which one will you choose?” she asks.
“What?”
Ellie bites her lip. “At the end of the show. Who’s the woman you’ll marry? Or maybe marry.”
My temper sparks again, this time with a twist of panic mixed with the anger. The truth is, I haven’t let myself think much about what happens at the end of the show. I know the premise. I know the producers are hoping the finale involves a wedding.
It’s in my contract that I get to the finale, that I narrow it down to two women and “in good faith” consider marrying one of them.
Did I ever really think I’d meet someone I wanted to marry? Not really. But looking at Ellie now, I realize that maybe deep down I wanted to. That maybe I wanted what my brother and Layla have—the companionship and the stability and the baby.
I turn away again. “I don’t know that you get to ask me that, El. You can’t be determined to walk away and then act like you care which woman I end up with.”
“I can care about you and not want to turn myself into Mrs. Gage Barrett for the sake of television ratings! I can’t do it, Gage. I can’t stick around and be part of a show that—”
“I didn’t ask you to!” I say, slamming a palm against the wet bar so hard that the glasses rattle. I turn toward her once more. “I asked you to stay overnight with me in a hotel room. One night, because I wanted sex. I didn’t ask you to get fucking married. So whether or not I get married or who I marry at the end of this bullshit has nothing to do with you. We good?”
