Chapter Nineteen

The women were pissed. Rena from the Jersey Shore looked like she wanted to gut Elliot and The Panel with a switchblade, but their rage had nothing on his. He could have ripped the walls apart. He was sick of his feelings being manipulated along with his days and nights. Sick of this place with its love seats and candles. Sick of having a camera following his every move. He was sick of putting on a show.

After Jenna twisted the entire season on its axis, Vanessa walked him back to his guesthouse, checking in to ask if he needed water, a beer, a snack. He shrugged off all her questions. There were potential hours left in production to allow the women time to confront him personally once they’d been informed of the twist.

As the PA was about to leave, he stopped her. “Vanessa, I need to borrow your phone.”

“What?”

“Your phone. Or your iPad. I need the internet.”

“For what?”

He made up a reason. “If I’m gonna be stuck in here, I’d like to catch up on the news or my teams, or something. You expect me to sit in here jerking off to my thoughts for the next six hours?”

She didn’t even blink at the crass reference. “You’re not allowed internet, Elliot.”

“After what you assholes put me through today, I think I deserve a real break. Don’t be a dick, okay?”

She dismissed him with a quick wave of her hand. “I can’t. Ginger would kill me.”

“Ginger doesn’t need to know. I can keep a secret. Can’t you?”

Vanessa wouldn’t budge. Good thing Holden checked in on him the next time. The less experienced PA was more than willing to give Elliot something better than his thoughts to entertain himself.

With Holden’s unlocked phone in hand, Elliot finally managed to get into his email account to pull up a copy of his contract.

There had to be something in it—injury or illness—a loophole—anything to get himself out of this increasingly unbearable situation.

The easiest thing would be to replace Ginger as his producer. But the last time he’d suggested that, she freaked and brought Jenna back. It would invite more problems than they already had, and while he currently hated her, he was reluctant to risk getting her fired. Still, he didn’t know if he could tolerate the proximity. Earlier when she’d cornered him in the sitting room, he’d wanted to grab hold of her and start running until they collapsed against each other and worked it all out—found a way to have it all.

But she would have never let that happen.

Meanwhile Jenna’s return was going after his internal organs like a shredder, confusing him about what he’d come here for. Yes, a partner, yes, a family, yes, someone who’d fight with him and for him, sure. All those things sounded great. She’d said everything he’d ever wanted to hear—from Ginger.

He refused to settle for less.

Sitting across from Jenna for an hour, listening to her and Lavonne go back and forth about why she went along with her family and didn’t follow her heart—if he’d heard all that before he’d gotten his night with Ginger—great. It would have been good enough, and he would have told her all was forgiven. They’d be shopping for houses already.

But instead, he’d left her season changed and struggling, alone and wanting something he’d never known he could have. Jenna opened him up to the possibility of a future, and then Ginger slid into his limo and stole his heart right out of his chest.

A light knock on the door pulled his attention away from Holden’s phone. “Come in.”

The door opened a crack. A whisper. “Hey, it’s me.”

His anger dissipated as he waited for Ginger’s face to appear. Maybe they could still figure this out. Instead, Michelle slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her.

“I snuck out. Shh…” She was still whispering.

The same depressing sludge of emotion from that morning drowned out what was left of his optimism. He slid Holden’s phone between his thigh and the mattress. “You guys haven’t fucked with my head enough for one day?”

“I wanted to check in with you. See how you’re doing.”

Ginger might have been the one who’d put Jenna back in the mix, but he knew his old friend well enough to understand she’d had the final say. If what Davis said in the gazebo was true, and Jenna’s return had gotten The Panel’s stamp of approval, it all had to have hinged on Michelle saying yes. “Pretty brave, considering I never want to speak to you again.”

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, campfire style, like she came to dish. “Humor me.”

He wasn’t feeling it. “I’m fine.”

“Look. I heard everything you said before the show started. I know you said you didn’t come here looking to find the love of your life, but I want to give you my two cents.”

“Spit it out, Michelle.”

She registered his frustration, but it didn’t faze her. “Look, I know you were hurt when Jenna picked Eric. You lost weight, you stopped going out—I was there, remember?”

She’d made twenty casseroles for him. He remembered.

“And I know half the reason you’re here is to skip the usual—dating—wanting—falling. It makes sense when you’re trying to get over someone. But going into a new relationship on a rebound all jaded and bitter is gonna turn around and bite you in the ass.”

This all might have been nice to hear before he’d signed the contract from hell.

“Elliot, you deserve a great love—like what I found with Sam. You’re not some loser with no prospects. You’re a sexy, successful man with so much love to offer a wife and a family.”

The word made him flinch. She noticed.

“I know love has let you down—first with your parents, then with this show—I get it. But you can’t shove all your passion aside and pretend it doesn’t exist. No woman here wants a marriage like that. I agreed to let Jenna come back because I want you to remember what you’re missing out on. You were in love with her.” She extended the L word to give it more emotional impact.

He didn’t want to hear it. “What is it? You didn’t think I was trying hard enough? You didn’t think any of these other women were compatible?”

“Compatibility isn’t always enough! You deserve better than a roommate for Christ’s sake!”

He turned his head, sick of looking at her already.

She continued, undeterred. “It’s not like you’re falling madly for anybody else.”

At that, Elliot swallowed hard. Not twelve hours ago Ginger had glanced up at him as she’d blown the heat off the top of the coffee he’d made for her. He remembered in vivid detail the half smile on her face. Her sloppy wet ponytail. Her soft murmur of appreciation. “I told you I didn’t come here to fall madly.”

“What if you can though?”

He already had.

His relationship with Jenna was over. It had run its course. All her presence at the Hacienda did was prove he never should have come back. He had zero chance with Ginger unless he figured something out fast. Otherwise, he was going to wind up engaged to Jenna and be forced to tell her it never would have worked in the first place. “Why are you pushing this so hard?”

“Because in the entire time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you truly happy,” Michelle said. “It’s your turn, Elliot. There’s no reason you can’t have it all.”

There was a reason, and it was in his contract. It was in the walls surrounding him. It was in the eyes of the women who’d invested their time and pieces of their hearts to be here. His future was a runaway train.

“Are you done?” He couldn’t listen to his “friend” anymore. Guilt and disappointment sapped him of hope, and any desire to continue the conversation.

“No, asshole.” Michelle bristled. “I still haven’t said what I came here to say.”

“Which is…?”

“I want a real future for you. I didn’t see anything coming together until today. Until Jenna came back. I want you to give this a chance. Not a half-assed chance like you’ve been doing, but a real, passionate chance.”

“She’s going home next week. Do you understand? Don’t even try to save her.”

“Elliot…”

“I didn’t come here for this!” he shouted.

“The fact that you’re fighting this so hard tells me I’m exactly right about it, you know?”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t know what the hell you were thinking. Did you see how pissed everyone was tonight?”

“It’ll be worth it if you’ll open yourself up to it.”

Michelle had been sipping Lavonne’s Kool-Aid for too many days in a row. Elliot stood, palming the phones and gesturing at the door. “I hear you. You can go. You wanna keep saving her, that’s your prerogative, but don’t get your heart set.”

Michelle didn’t move a muscle to leave. “I know she hurt you—”

“I’ve. Moved. On. I wasn’t in love with her then, and I’m sure as hell not in love with her now. This show does get one thing right, though. Love has nothing to do with successful marriages. It’s a useless waste of an emotion, and in the end it doesn’t matter.”

“Spoken like the loneliest man in the world.”

Truth. He let the words wash over him. Rolling back his shoulders, he bore their weight. “Better leave me to it then.”

But he should have known better. Michelle had never once let him have the last word.

“Uh-uh. Sorry. Been there, done that. You suck at seeing what’s right in front of you, and I won’t stand by while your chance at happiness slips away. She’s here. Now. She came back for you. If she’s not the one, you’re gonna have to prove it to me, because from where I’m standing, she’s the only reason we came back here in the first place. She made you want more. Thank God. For that she’s got my vote.”

“I changed my mind.”

She snorted with derision, but finally stood to leave. “No. You didn’t.”

Once she was gone, Elliot spent some time glaring at the door and feeling trapped—locked into a decision he never should have made in the first place.

Jenna’s return reminded him people got hurt here. While it might all look staged and pretend, rejection was as brutal on camera as it was off. It made a person doubt himself, his worth, his ability to have a decent future. But who Elliot was and what he wanted was inescapable. Ginger might have given up on them, but he needed to do his part to get out before anyone else got hurt.

He took a seat on the sofa to examine his contract further. He was halfway through the nondisclosure portion when there was another knock on the door.

“Rena would like to speak with you privately,” Kat said.

“Show her in, I guess.”

And the onslaught began.

Speaking with the six remaining women took them well into the early morning hours. The stance he chose to adopt was: “This was a Panel decision.” They were all pawns in the ratings game now.

Ginger came in during his talk with Cassie. She hung out behind the cameras, sleepy-eyed and quiet while Cassie hugged it out with Elliot. Pulling away, Cassie gave him a warm smile, running her hand down his arm. “I’m going to bed. See you soon?”

“Hope so.” If Ginger hadn’t been an issue, he was ninety-nine percent sure he would have wound up with Cassie—content to carry out his teamwork marriage plan. They would have been cool together, dominating trivia nights and ruling PTAs. In another life Cassie would have been perfect for him. He walked her to the door. Two cameramen followed her and Kat out.

One camera and Ginger remained.

“Have a seat, let’s debrief, then we can get some sleep,” she said.

He walked back to the sofa. She pulled up a chair, sitting out of the frame. Once the cameraman was in position, she began her interview. “Tell me what you’re most concerned about.”

Given the conversation he’d had with Cassie, he had an answer ready. “I’m concerned someone is going to make the wrong assumption about why Jenna gets to stay and give up before we have a chance to explore our connection.”

Ginger swallowed, dropping her gaze to her lap. “Talk about how it makes you feel that there are women talking about leaving.”

“I hate that anyone’s considering leaving because of this.”

“Do you think The Panel made a mistake?” she asked, her voice growing softer.

“I don’t know whether The Panel made a mistake bringing Jenna back.”

Ginger shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Talk about whether you think you can be fair in your considerations given you have a history with her.”

“I’ll be as fair as I can be when I’m considering a future with Jenna. But like everyone’s been pointing out, we have a history.”

Ginger pressed her lips together, still unable or unwilling to meet his eyes. “Tell us how her being here changed how you’re feeling about the process.”

“Jenna’s being here is clarifying some things for me.”

She made a rolling motion with her hand, urging him to elaborate.

“I’m having to consider what I want out of this. What kind of future I want to have, but I also realize my Panel may see something different for me. So I’m trying to take all that into consideration moving forward.”

“Talk about what you think they want.”

“They want me to fall in love.”

“And you don’t?”

“Was that a question?” It didn’t lend itself to the kind of open-ended full statement responses she usually wanted.

She looked up, her brows furrowed. “Go ahead if there’s anything else on your mind.”

He’d said all he was willing to say with a camera rolling.

Her mouth tightened, and she glanced away, standing quickly. “That’s it everybody. Clean up. Get out. Thanks for your hard work.”

Elliot rubbed his face as the remaining crew packed up. He reached around his waist and unclipped his microphone, handing it over to Vanessa before rising from the couch. Holden stepped in front of him. “Got my phone?”

“In the cushions.”

“Thanks.”

While the PA went on the hunt for his iPhone, Elliot took a few steps toward Ginger, who lingered near the kitchen, out of the way of the exiting crew.

When her eyes met his, it took his breath away. She’d never looked more upset. She even looked like she needed…a hug? “What’s wrong?”

“Are you still mad at me?” she asked.

Betrayed was a better word. But if he’d had to place a bet, he’d put his money on her regretting bringing Jenna back, and not because it kept everyone up all night.

Jamie was the last one to leave. He glanced back at Ginger on his way out. “You good?”

“I’m heading home in a second,” she answered him.

The door closed behind the cameraman, and Ginger looked back up at Elliot like she was still waiting on an answer to her question.

“You owe me a better explanation than the one I got earlier,” he said.

She rubbed at her eyes with the heels of both hands. “Why does it sound like you want an apology?”

“That wouldn’t hurt.”

She glanced around the now empty room. “Look. I actually am sorry. I never thought—well, I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“Why’d you do it?”

“I don’t wanna lose my job, Elliot.”

“Is she why you wanted to end things this morning? You knew she was coming back?”

Ginger nodded, her gaze steady on the floor between them.

The band of tension encasing his chest loosened, barely. There’d been glimpses of it before, a softer, more vulnerable part of her, but they’d passed so fast he’d thought he was reading meaning into the fleeting moments. It was clear to him now, though. She hated this as much as he did and thought there was no way to win. That didn’t mean there wasn’t one. He’d signed the contract in ink, not blood.

Unfortunately, when it came to Ginger, he wasn’t competing with fourteen other men for a chance to be with her—he was competing with her job. All the more reason to try to convince her what they had was different—maybe even special.

“Do you like me?” he asked.

Her mouth tightened. Two tiny curves appeared like parentheses to bracket her pursed lips. “The way I feel about you—it doesn’t matter.”

He’d said it to Michelle, hadn’t he? Love didn’t matter. But maybe it did. Maybe it could. Was that what she meant? He needed her to say it. Give him something. “What do you need from me?”