We hang up, and she does indeed send screenshots and a screen recording of the message chains between Jackson and Bridget going back over a year. What a con. I’d be impressed if she wasn’t also a total dickhead.
‘Well. That’s it. We don’t need to worry. We’ll just blackmail Bridget right back, and then we can all get married just as planned.’ I nod along with all my words like one of thosedashboard dogs. ‘Should we send it as a text, or go to her room? I’m not sure if she and Jackson will have left for their wedding yet. Maybe a menacing phone call?’
But then, I look up at Warren and see that he’s been watching me this whole time. ‘Warren?’
‘Go to her, Dolly,’ Warren says, his voice so soft and kind and good. ‘Don’t let that love go, not without a fight.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being honest.’
‘No, we made an agreement,’ I hold out, though fuck, I’m torn. I don’t want to, but I’m not going to go back on this.
He takes my hand. ‘Dolly, our agreement didn’t count on one of us falling in the kind of love that people watching this show dream of. Plus, we are never going to win the nest egg.’
We both laugh, because of course we’re not. Whit and Malachi have that completely tied up.
‘But the brand deals – the couple power,’ I insist.
‘We’re still friends, aren’t we? We can still do that. I bet people would love if we have a divorcee-but-best-friends energy,’ he says, and God, I know he’s right. There’s still a way we could play this that means we’re not losing everything.
‘I’m not sure I’m ready to be open. Does that make me a coward?’ I ask.
‘Do you really want to work with companies who wouldn’t back you? I know pink-washing is a thing, but why are you boxing yourself in? Your mum would hate that for you.’
I know he’s right. Mum has been, if I’m honest, a convenient excuse to some extent. Being out means I open myself up to trolling, maybe even death threats. It’s not just losing money on platforms that might demonetise me for being gay.
‘Love comes with sacrifices and compromise. Just depends on whether you think Carys is worth it,’ he says.
I’m torn, drowning in guilt. But if I’m honest with myself,I’ve been jeopardising our agreement since the first time I kissed Carys.
‘Fuck, I’m sorry, Warren.’
‘What for?’
‘Putting you in this position. Our families—’
He puts his index finger over my lips, and all I can smell is the fancy hand cream he uses. ‘Nope.’
‘But—’ I mumble.
‘Negative. You probably do owe me a few apologies, and that’s fine. Pay me back in cooking and collabs. But now you’ve got to go tell that girl you want to have her babies or whatever.’
‘I can’t do it,’ I say, standing up from the table.
‘You love her.’
‘I do. I love her. But, the show?’
I know he understands what I mean. Am I outing her if I go speak to her? Is this going to play realistically into the fighting-over-Patrick dynamic the show has been airing, or will it all crumble down with me just showing up?
And even if I do manage to catch her before she walks down the aisle, what if she doesn’t want me? When she so nakedly told me she wanted to leave the show with me, I told her no and I was only in it for the money. She really does like Patrick, I can admit that even though it riddles me with jealousy.
If she does want me back, what reason will she give for leaving Patrick? I don’t want to force her to come out before she’s ready either. It needs to be her choice, all of this does, but there’s no time for her to comfortably make one without her ending the day legally married.
But I can’t let her marry Patrick without fighting for her. This whole time, I’ve not fought for her because I was too scared about what would happen with Warren and my mum. I need to show her I’m in, if she is.
Liars forever, that’s what she said?
