Elise was already stepping aside for Alexis to walk through the doorway when Alexis asked, “What’s happening tonight?”
Elise’s smile fell and then picked up again. “You’re meeting the girls, of course.”
“Already?” Alexis blurted. She’d hoped for at least a full day to breathe, maybe unpack, see some local sights, or hide in a corner with a glass of wine before being thrust into a room full of cameras. “I thought I’d have a bit of time to get settled.”
“The sooner we start filming, the better,” Elise said. She nudged her head toward the doorway. “Now come. Let’s get you camera ready.”
Chapter Four
Birdie stood by the tall French windows, staring out at the garden with its neat, sunlit rows of olive trees and cypresses reaching skyward. She spotted marigolds, hollyhocks and poppies swaying lazily in the soft breeze. Clusters of bright nasturtiums spilled over the edges of the gravel paths, and delicate cornflowers, bushes of rosemary and thyme dotted the garden. Their tiny flowers glowed in shades of purple, pink, and white.
She could hardly believe she was actually here.Here. OnThe Sapphic Match. Her brain kept flashing back to the email:Congratulations, you’ve made it through round three. Pack your bags; you’re headed to Provence for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to fall in love.
Birdie was still in shock. She’d survived the auditions and the interviews. She’d even endured the ridiculous video prompts—the tell us why you deserve love on national television nonsense. And now she was actually here in Provence, France, about to meet the bachelorette.
She pressed her forehead against the glass for a second, inhaling the faint scent of lavender oil burning from a little brass diffuser on the sill, and tried to convince herself that everything was fine. That she didn’t have to be nervous. That the bachelorette would—
“Beautiful garden, isn’t it?”
Birdie turned. A woman stood just a foot away. She had long dark hair and eyes so brown they almost looked black. She wore an ivory sundress that matched perfectly with her ivoryskin so that it looked like she’d been carved out of marble and accidentally brought to life.
“It is,” Birdie agreed, nodding. “Whoever is in charge of it knows exactly what they’re doing.” She wasn’t a gardener herself. She’d only ever managed to keep houseplants alive, but she did absorb flower names from the novels she devoured as if reading about roses and lilacs and lemon trees would one day make her capable of growing them.
The woman glanced over Birdie’s shoulder to the garden and nodded her head before flicking her gaze back. She stuck out her hand. “Hi. I’m Louise. I’m from Vermont, and my sister signed me up for the show after my divorce. She said I need a little shake-up.”
“Birdie,” she said, introducing herself. “My dad was a pro golf player, and he and my mom bet that if he won the Sunshine Valley Open, they’d call me whatever he wanted. I don’t think she ever expected him to win.”
Louise laughed. “You should use that for the introduction.”
“Right,” Birdie replied, pushing her bangs out of her eyes with the side of her hand. “Because nothing says romance like being named after a golf score.”
“Hey,” Louise said, smiling. “At least it wasn’t something worse. Imagine if your dad had gone with Eagle or Bogey.”
Birdie snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh goodness, can you imagine—” She cut herself off just as the door swung open, and a gorgeous woman swept in. She was wearing a deep red pantsuit and had short ice-blonde hair. Her full lips took up a surprisingly large amount of space on her face.
“Welcome, ladies. I’m Vivian, your host and guide for this once-in-a-lifetime adventure. Let me just say, if love doesn’t bloom here in Provence, surrounded by lavender fields andvineyards, I’m afraid it might not bloom anywhere,” the woman announced, her voice filling the room like a drumroll.
A few women giggled nervously. Birdie clapped her hands together but realized she was the only one. She quickly shoved them into the pockets of her dress and bit down on her lip, willing the heat rising up her neck to back the fuck down.
Vivian didn’t seem to notice. And if she did, she didn’t mind the awkward clap.
“Now, here’s how this works,” she went on, clasping her hands together and letting them hang at her waist. “Tonight, you’ll each step out of the villa’s grand front doors and cross the courtyard. Picture this: lanterns glowing, cypresses framing the path, the scent of lavender in the air. And at the end, waiting under the archway of climbing roses, you’ll meet our bachelorette for the very first time.”
Birdie’s stomach plummeted to somewhere around her ankles. Her entire world would soon revolve aroundthebachelorette. The mysterious, unnamed woman on whom Birdie’s entire future was suddenly supposed to hinge upon. She didn’t know anything about her. No one did. Not where she came from or what she did for a living. Not what she looked like or what she wanted in a woman. For all Birdie knew, she could be allergic to cats. Birdie had a cat. A very clingy one called Sebastian.
Vivian’s grin widened as she scanned the room. “You’ll be called one by one. So, take a deep breath, adjust whatever needs adjusting, and when you hear your name, that’s your cue to go find your potential destiny.”
Louise flicked Birdie a sidelong glance, the kind that said,Oh shit, are you ready for this? To which Birdie shook her head. She wasn’t ready. Not even close.
“Bianca,” Vivian called, zoning in on a woman standing by the mantel. “You’re up first.”
A tall brunette, with cheekbones sharp enough to slice bread, smoothed the sides of her hot pink blazer and slipped through the door without hesitation. Birdie felt her stomach drop even further. Bianca was radiant. She looked like she had a personal trainer, a trust fund, and a huge following on her Instagram account.
How the hell was Birdie supposed to compete with that?
Louise leaned toward her and murmured, “If I were the bachelorette, I’d quit the show right now and just hand Bianca an engagement ring and be done with it.”
Birdie almost choked on her own spit. “This feels way more nerve-racking than I thought it would be.”
