No, that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
Alexis blinked. And then blinked again. She was pretty sure the lantern light was playing tricks on her eyes because that couldn’t be Birdie, could it? The woman she’d taken to a hotel room instead of to her home. The woman who’d taken control on that plush king bed, who had given her a business card which Alexis hadn’t even bothered looking at before she’d chucked it into the bin near the hotel reception desk.
And yet, there she was. Birdie. Walking down the path, cheeks pink, wearing a forest green midi dress that skimmed her body like liquid silk. Her brown hair was cut into a sleek bob with her bangs perfectly styled. She looked nothing, yet everything, like the woman from Portland.
Alexis’s hands went clammy. Every thought in her brain scattered in different directions.Do I say something? Do I act like I don’t know her? Do I pretend she’s just another contestant, like the show expects, or do I let myself freak out because this is Birdie from Portland, and Birdie is here, and Birdie is walking right toward me?
The cameras were rolling. The crew was watching and capturing every step, every word.
Alexis couldn’t hesitate. She couldn’t let this turn into a sloppy mess. This was her redemption. She finally had a chance to prove that she had a heart, even if it was a little charred at the edges. She couldn’t possibly let all of America know that she’d slept with this woman and led her on for a few lovely, and rather short, minutes. And then after that, she had never intended to see her again. Not that there was anything wrong with that.She’d done it plenty of times before, but just that this was about her image.
Birdie stopped just a few feet away, and Alexis forced a smooth, neutral, and probably a little too cold smile. “Hi,” she said, trying her best to remain calm and collected when she felt the complete opposite. “It seems you’re the last contestant.”
Birdie opened her mouth, then closed it again. She looked like she’d just walked into a dream that didn’t belong to her. Her eyes were wide, and her rosebud lips were pressed into a thin, flat line. She blinked once, then twice, then swallowed so hard it looked almost audible. But still, she said nothing.
Alexis’s stomach knotted. She couldn’t let Birdie freeze because she couldn’t risk anyone finding out that they knew each other. There was too much riding on this. If Elise found out, she had no idea what would happen, but it wasn’t worth the risk.
And so, Alexis cleared her throat and went with plan A. “It’s lovely to meet you,” she said, sticking out her hand, which felt kind of strange since she’d greeted every other contestant with a kiss or a hug. “Welcome to Provence.”
Birdie glanced down at her hand, paused as if she was rebooting, and then nodded her head like a frantic little bird but still said nothing. All Alexis could think about in that moment were the invisible crickets that were echoing through her head and her life imploding right in front of her.
“What did you say your name was?” Alexis asked quickly to fill the silence. She stared Birdie dead in the eye, in those gorgeous brown eyes the color of tea, and tried to will her to speak.
“Ummm…,” Birdie managed, which was a lot more than silence.
But still not enough.
Alexis was suddenly terrified that Birdie wouldn’t play along. But then she took Alexis’s hand in hers and muttered, “I’m Birdie Sinclair.”
Sinclair. At least that was new information. Alexis smiled, but it felt so unnatural it was like her lips weren’t her own anymore.
“Birdie Sinclair,” she repeated as if she were hearing it for the first time.
“Mmm-hmm.” Birdie nodded again, twice, then three times. She was still gripping Alexis’s hand as if it was the only thing tethering her to earth. Her palm was warm, trembling, and Alexis had to force herself not to squeeze like she’d done when she had led Birdie throughNinety-Twoto the exit.
“Lovely name,” Alexis said. Her words sounded polished. Maybe too polished. “It’s unique.”
“Thanks,” Birdie breathed, finally releasing her.
Only then did Alexis realize how close they were standing. Too close. Close enough that the faintest whiff of Birdie’s perfume—she suspected Dolce Gabbana—curled up into her nose and dragged her back to that hotel room in one traitorous flash.
She stepped back a bit, but not enough to act weird, and forced the conversation.
“Well, Birdie,” she said, projecting her voice for the cameras. She was doing everything the way Marla had taught her to do last season. “Welcome. I’m so glad you’re here.”
It became painfully apparent that Birdie wasn’t going to wow her with a poem or a gift or a quirky little anecdote about her hometown. She was barely even speaking at all. She was simply staring at Alexis like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Well, Birdie,I can’t believe it either,Alexis thought.
“Cut!” Elise’s voice cracked through the night air like a whip.
Alexis flinched just as Elise stepped out from behind a camera and headed toward them. She stopped just in front of them, her dark eyes sweeping over Alexis, then Birdie, then back again. She didn’t say anything. Not a word. She simply arched one eyebrow—a look that screamedWhat the hell was that—before she snapped her tablet open.
“We’ll set up for the next scene,” Elise announced, already turning back toward the crew. “Gather everyone in the solarium for drinks and a mingle. Ten minutes, people.”
Vivian swept in right after Elise retreated. She was beaming as if she hadn’t noticed the implosion of awkward that had just taken place. She slid an arm around Birdie’s shoulder and said, “Come with me, darling. I’ll show you the way.” But before she headed down the path with Birdie in tow, she glanced back over her shoulder and met Alexis’s gaze. “You’ll follow in five. We want you to make a grand entrance, alright?”
Alexis nodded, but she barely registered what she was nodding for. She was hardly listening. Alexis watched Vivian guide Birdie down the path and should’ve felt some sense of relief now that there was distance between them, but instead she was lost in a series of facts she didn’t want to admit.
