How much of what they’re saying in their testimonial is true? Even if there is some truth to their words, how long would that truth be genuine? This time only lasts for ten days, and we’ve already gone through a week of it.
Then there are three men left: Trevor, Damon, and Scott. Only Emily, Valerie, and I remain.
Miranda calls another name. “Emily.”
When this started, I was glad to have time to breathe before the inevitable choice I know I’ll have to make. I hoped I could use that time to finalize a decision. But now I realize I haven’t made one, turning this time into torture.
I don’t know what to do.
Emily steps forward. I watch her scan all around her, not just at the three men in front of her. She looks as nervous as I feel.
Giving a heartfelt statement, she finally calls Trevor’s name. And with a relieved smile, she walks over to his waiting arms.
Then Valerie steps forward. Her blue sundress flows in the wind, her hair loose around her shoulders. She seems cool and collected. Not like she doesn’t care about the outcome, but rather like someone who has made her decision and settled it. She takes a breath, hands loosely clasped.
“I came into this experience thinking I knew exactly what I wanted,” she begins, her voice warm and measured. “Someone ready. Someone uncomplicated. What I found instead surprised me.” She pauses. “I found someone who reminded me what it actually feels like to be in the presence of a real man. Someone grounded in a way most people here aren’t. Someone I think deserves to be chosen.”
Her vague words have my nerves skittering.
My eyes move to Scott, searching for any kind of reaction, anything that would give me a hint of an answer. But he’s gone quiet. Not in his usual stillness, but something tighter underneath it—the look of a man hearing something he wasn’t expecting, jaw locked, shoulders rigid, like the ground just shifted under his feet while the cameras keep rolling.
He has no idea what’s going on, either.
He looks alarmed.
Why?
Neither of us know what’s about to happen. And that fear I’d tried to bury claws its way back up, sharper than before.
“My choice,” Valerie says, her eyes moving between the two men as if she were standing on a great precipice and about to jump—taking someone with her in the process, “is Scott.”
The name settles like ice into the morning air.
Around me, the group reacts. Murmurs ripple; a few gasps cut through the breeze.
I freeze in place. I can’t move.
Valerie crosses the terrace with easy, unhurried confidence. When she reaches Scott, she rises onto her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek, her hand curling around his arm, settling beside him. He remains as rigid as before. His expression panicked, his eyes erratic like he’s working something over in his mind at lightspeed. Then his gaze snaps straight to me.
Was what he said last night a lie? Or was he telling the truth… and this blindsided him, too? The questions slam into me so hard my stomach twists. I harden my expression, force my face into blank calm, and look away.
I feel Scott’s eyes on me. I don’t give him the satisfaction of meeting them again. Instead, I straighten and turn my gaze to Damon.
Moments later, Miranda calls me to stand beside Damon. I’m grateful that this is finally over.
Emily’s hand finds mine at my side. Quiet. Discreet. Just there.
Behind me somewhere Scott is standing next to Valerie with her hand still on his arm.
I turn away, not looking back as I grip Emily’s hand.
But the confusion doesn’t leave. It only grows—thick, heavy, more tangled than ever.
Day 7 (Late Morning/Afternoon)
Scott
Miranda steps forward before anyone even gets a chance to breathe.
