“Really?” Louise asked, her eyes wide and dancing skittishly across the room. “I always knew it was going to feel like this, like I’m about to pass—” Her words were cut off just as Vivian clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention.
“Claire,” she said, her voice loud. “You’re up next, darling.”
A petite woman with coppery curls and a scattering of freckles across her nose gave a tiny wave before vanishing through the door.
Then it was “Danielle.”
Then, “Nina.”
Then, “Harper.”
Each one disappeared in a flurry of perfume, heels clicking against the hardwood floors, and to Birdie’s horror, gifts. Danielle carried what looked like a jar of homemade jam. Nina held a tin of cookies tied up with a ribbon. Harper had a hand-painted card in one hand and a bouquet of lavender in the other.
Birdie’s stomach lurched. She had been this close to bringing a copy ofThe Ten Thousand Doors of Januaryby Alix E. Harrow, a book she adored for the way it cracked open theworld and whispered that love, magic, and new beginnings were always waiting just beyond the next door. She’d even wrapped it in butcher paper and twine and had written her name at the bottom in curly letters so the bachelorette wouldn’t forget who it was from.
But then she’d panicked.
What if the bachelorette wasn’t a reader? What if she hated books? What if she opened it and thought,Oh great, homework. Birdie had shoved the book back into her suitcase at the last second, and now here she stood, empty-handed with a faint taste of panic at the back of her throat.
Vivian called out more names.
“Isabelle.”
“Kinley.”
“Lyra.”
“Louise.”
With each name called, Birdie’s palms got sweatier. She pressed them against her dress, grateful for having chosen the forest green midi Jade had suggested, and willed her nerves to behave.
They didn’t. In fact, they roared. She was the only one left. The last contestant. She was the only one who hadn’t made an impression yet, which sent a whole new flurry of flutters to her insides. What if the bachelorette had already been so wowed by the other contestants with their little gifts that Birdie was simply forgettable? Maybe she would be just another face to meet but not really see where anything could go.
“Birdie,” Vivian called suddenly, and Birdie nearly jumped right out of her skin.She shoved her hands into the pockets of her dress again and put one foot in front of the other.
“Good luck,” Vivian said.
But Birdie barely even smiled in her direction as she stepped nervously out of the room. She had to focus. Now wasn’tthe time to trip over the ornate rugs or the studio lights dotting the villa’s hallway.
By the time she reached the villa’s grand doors, Birdie realized she had been holding her breath. She let out a little puff that sounded like a sad balloon deflating and shoved the doors open, embracing the fresh air and delicious countryside smells.
The courtyard was gorgeous. Lanterns hung from wrought-iron hooks. The fountain at the center was a weathered lion with its mouth open in mid-roar. Water spilled from the lion’s mouth into the sun-bleached basin, which was lit up by a soft, golden spotlight standing out against the night sky.
On the sides were flowerbeds spilling over with lavender and rosemary. And beyond that, there were production tents. Birdie barely even noticed the cameras set up from every angle and the crew scuttling about behind them, adjusting lights and whispering into earpieces. She barely noticed any of it. All she could focus on was the gravel trail ahead, leading to the bachelorette whom she needed to impress.
Birdie crossed the courtyard and stepped onto the path. She was so close. Yet the archway felt impossibly far. Then, impossibly close again. Still, she couldn’t quite see the bachelorette just yet, which made it even more thrilling, but also scary, since she was completely out of her comfort zone.
This was now or never. A chance at love. Real love. Not some hookup at a shady—it wasn’t shady, it was actually quite lovely—hotel.
Birdie’s heart suddenly thundered at the prospect. Her legs wanted to run forward, and her mind wanted to turn back. The petrified part of her wanted to go back to her bookshop in Portland, where everything felt familiar and safe. At this moment, more than anything, she wanted to be in a place where she wasn’t about to be put on the spot, potentially make a foolof herself, and most importantly take a chance on someone she really didn’t even know.
Birdie froze.
Under the archway of climbing roses, bathed in golden lantern light, stood someone shehadmet before. Someone she could never forget. Someone with golden hair spilling over her shoulders, and a form-fitting, champagne-colored gown that made her look impossibly tall, impossibly real, impossibly everything.
Birdie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Lexi,” she muttered into her fingers.
Chapter Five
