“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it,” Birdie said, because frankly, she had no idea what else to say. Just like she had no idea why she had even brought up the whole thing. The past was in the past, just like Albert Einstein once said: ‘Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.’
Alexis looked up and her blue eyes held tightly onto Birdie’s. “I have to. If I don’t beat myself up about it, I can’t take accountability for it. And I have to take accountability.”
Birdie nodded slowly. “I get that. But maybe there’s a line between accountability and self-torture.”
“It’s not that simple.” Alexis dropped her gaze back to the tiles.
“Maybe it is,” Birdie said, stepping one foot forward. There was just too much distance between them, but frankly, Birdie wasn’t sure how to close the gap without scaring Alexis. Vulnerable people scared easily, and right now Alexis was like a tiny baby bird in a motherless nest. “Maybe you just have to forgive yourself.”
“I’m not the only one who needs to forgive me.”
“Skye hasn’t yet?”
“She has,” Alexis nodded. “But the world hasn’t. I still get vile DMs. People who don’t know me but think they do are telling me what a horrible person I am. Which is why this season has to be different.” She dropped both arms and gripped theedge of the tub. “It’s funny. I don’t even recognize that person anymore. I literally lost myself in a silly competition.”
Birdie smiled faintly. “Well, if it makes you feel any better. I don’t see the woman you were last season either.” Not that Birdie had even watched the last season. It just felt like the right thing to say.
Alexis snorted. But at least she was beginning to look and sound more like herself. She pushed herself off the bathtub’s edge and raked her fingers through her hair. “Well, we should probably get back to the party. I can’t imagine what Vivian wants from me.”
Birdie nodded, not that she was happy about it. She wanted to stay. She wanted to talk. Hell, things didn’t even have to escalate beyond kissing. She just wanted to spend some time with Alexis without the cameras and the other contestants lurking. Without the pressure.
But then, she should’ve thought of that before she brought up the whole blackmail thing.
Chapter Fifteen
Alexis hadn’t gone to find Vivian last night. In fact, she’d avoided her for the rest of the evening, which hadn’t been that hard to do since every contestant and every camera had wanted a piece of her.
Now it was the next morning, and Alexis knew it was only a matter of time before Vivian cornered her. Frankly, she couldn’t bring herself to care that much on an empty stomach. Which was why she found herself in the breakfast room with all the contestants and only a single cameraman huddled off in the corner, making himself look small.
The room itself was bright. The limestone walls were the color of fresh cream, and the high-beamed ceilings were made of sun-bleached oak. Tall arched windows opened onto a terrace bordered with lavender planters. On one side of the room, a long buffet table stood beneath a gilt-framed Louis Philippe mirror. The spread was extravagant, with every fruit and pastry labeled. Platters of melon de Cavaillon and black mission figs sat beside ceramic bowls of Montmorency cherries and Bergeron apricots. A wicker basket of croissants aux amandes and pains au chocolat was flanked by a neat row of miniature Bonne Maman jars: apricot, fraise des bois, and Mirabelle plum. At the far end of the table stood a silver coffee urn with steam curling into the air.
On the other side of the room were low sage-colored sofas arranged around a fireplace, which thankfully wasn’t lit because it was a hot morning out. A marble-topped table stood in the center, already crowded with plates and half-empty coffee cups.
Alexis filled up a plate with fruit and a chocolate croissant and sat down on the empty seat beside Bianca. There was also anempty space beside Birdie, but sitting there felt risky. It felt as if everyone would quickly sniff out exactly where Alexis had been last night… straddling Birdie in her bedroom.
She picked up her fork and tried not to think about it.
“So,” Kinley said, popping a cherry into her mouth. “If you could go back and pick any day of your life you could live over and over again, what day would that be?”
“Why would you want to live one day over and over again?” Claire asked, frowning. She wiped croissant flakes from her lap and reached for her cup of coffee. “That seems like some kind of punishment. Can you imagine? The same breakfast. The same conversations. The same clothes. I’d go insane.”
“Well, I think there’s something comforting about it,” Lyra said, balancing a half-empty bowl of yogurt and muesli on her knee. “I can think of several days I wouldn’t mind living over and over again.”
“Like what?” Kinley asked.
“Like the day we got Nora, our Labrador puppy,” Lyra replied. “Or the day I kissed Kristy Edwards at Michaela’s sweet sixteen in her parents’ bedroom.”
“Well, I would relive the day I won Miss Pacific Northwest,” Isabelle said, flicking her long, silky hair back over her shoulder.
“Oh, great,” Claire muttered into her coffee. “Here we go again.”
Isabelle clicked her tongue. “This is only like the second time I’m bringing it up.”
“Third,” Claire corrected without missing a beat.
“Fourth,” Kinley added, grinning. “You brought it up last night when we were speaking about our resolutions for the new year and how no one ever lives up to them, except you, apparently.”
Isabelle pulled a face but then quickly dropped her attention to the half-eaten pile of scrambled eggs on her plate, which the chef had whisked up just for her at her request.
