So she’d stayed with Andre to avoid confrontation. Even more than that, though, she’d stayed with him for Island Match. For the beach.
Not Virginia Beach. Not even Myrtle Beach or Nags Head. After one too many jellyfish stings, she shied away from any body of water where she couldn’t see her feet below the surface.
No, she needed clear Caribbean water. Sun-warmed sand beneath her soles. Lapping waves, their soothing rhythm carrying away her thoughts and leaving her brain in blissful peace.
And now she wasn’t going to get any of it.
She blinked away the wetness blurring her vision.
“I’m glad you’re not upset.” Cowan sounded relieved not to have to comfort a grieving near-stranger over the phone. “Don’t worry about the show. We’ll take care of cancelling all the travel arrangements, including?—”
His words failed to register as she swallowed a sob.
She’d considered the trip her reward. Not for earning her MLS and landing a good job at the Colonial Marysburg Research Library, or at least not entirely. Instead, for waging an endless war with her doubts and her frustrated loneliness at work. For the way she kept putting one foot in front of another and answering calls on the desk and helping patrons and pretending to be okay even when she wasn’t, and the way she kept doing all of that until she was okay again.
In pursuit of that trip, she’d overcome her reluctance to be on TV. She’d convinced a resistant Andre to fill out the Island Match application. She’d filmed an interview alongside him. She’d talked on the phone countless time to Irene and Cowan, even when her library shifts had left her weary of people and conversation. She’d braced herself for limited cable-television fame and notoriety. She’d accepted the presence of new worries and uncertainty as the trip grew near.
Because she wanted that week on the beach. Needed it.
But she couldn’t afford the trip on her own, not with her MLS-depleted savings, and she refused to ask for charity from her better paid and more successful family members.
So if she didn’t speak now, she wouldn’t go to a gorgeous Caribbean beach, not for months or years to come, and she’d never know what might have been. She’d always wonder whether she could have done something, said something, advocated for herself and gotten what she wanted.
God, speaking up was so hard.
Still, she was going to do it.
Maybe she could go on the trip by herself. Maybe she could substitute a friend or family member for Andre, and the show could proceed as normal. But she wouldn’t know unless she asked.
“Cowan?” The word was thin and shaky. She could no longer summon Professional Librarian Voice. Instead, all she could muster was a frayed thread of sound.
Still, Cowan stopped talking immediately. “Yes?”
She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to breathe, but her brief, bright burst of conviction was already fading, even as a familiar fiery prickle spread across her chest.
Literally every episode of Island Match involved a romantic couple. No exceptions. Why would she think they’d alter the entire premise of the show just for her?
If she kept bothering them, Cowan and Irene were going to hate her, if they didn’t already, for delaying the inevitable. For asking questions and causing them more effort and trouble instead of simply disappearing into the ether.
Besides, no one owed her a beach vacation. Someone else deserved this opportunity, and Cowan and Irene deserved to get off the phone so they could deal with the aftermath of Callie’s problems.
She needed to keep her mouth shut. Avoid confrontation. Keep forcing a smile and wait until the pretense of being fine became reality.
Yes, speaking up was so hard.
Too hard for someone like her.
“I’m sorry,” Callie whispered.
Cowan’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay.” After a moment, he spoke again. “Like I said, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of all the cancellations on our end. Do you have any other questions?”
No. Everything seemed clear. Terrible, yes, but clear.
“I—” Callie gulped back another sob. “I don’t?—”
At that moment, when her personal history would have predicted that she would acquiesce to the inevitable, choke out a goodbye to Cowan and Irene, and never bother HATV again, a dark head of curls crowning a concerned face appeared through the little window in the breakroom door.
Thomas.
