Nate follows my gaze, blinks, and then looks back at me. “I’m sorry for the way I acted at the airport,” he says quietly. “I was rude, and it was uncalled for.”
I let out a little breath. “I think itwascalled for, considering how I—” I stop myself; I doubt he wants to rehash any of that. Especially given that he’s not saying he regrets the intent of the words, letting me know he doesn’t want this anymore.That I pushed him too far away to ever get him back.
“I’m sorry, too,” I finish softly. “I really, really am.”
His lips tug up in that sad, sweet smile. “Whatever happens, Becks, I want you to be happy.”
Becks. It’s kills me that this may be the last time I ever hear him say my name like that.
No, notmaybe. It will be. He’s saying goodbye. A kind goodbye, because he’s a good man—the best man—but a goodbye all the same.
“I want the same for you,” I say, and it’s so true. He deserves every happiness in the world.
My eyes are burning, though, knowing that it won’t be with me.
I have this moment again where I wonder if I should tell him that I love him, that I’ve known it for weeks now. Not because I think he’ll take me back—or even should—but because maybe he would feel better knowing that I wasn’t playing him, that he wasn’t alone in having feelings and hurting from that loss of possibility.That this was so very real for me, even if ultimately I’m too messed up to be the person he needs.
But I take too long to decide, and he clears his throat. “It looks like Swiss is headed this way,” he says.
Swiss is indeed walking toward us, Mustache Dan at his side. Behind them I can see a few canopy tents set up, shielding the crew from the sun between the proposals (or non-proposals, as the case may be). Weirdly, I see Madison there, mostly obscured by a handful of producers. She’s wearing a white dress, too, though a super formal, Renaissance-looking one that has a stiff skirt that stretches so far out to either side, she looks like the upper half of her is perched atop a white, lace-covered wall. She looks really upset—furious, more like.
She must have been rejected already. I would have thought they’d send her back to the hotel, but maybe they’ll send us back together.
That’ll be fun.
I look back at Nate, then down at my feet, one of which is in a shoe and the other of which is barefoot. “Am I really supposed to hobble up there with only one shoe? Won’t my foot then be filthy?”
“Don’t worry,” he says. “They have people up there to clean it.”
Oh my god.The ridiculousness of this show.
Before I can say anything more, Swiss is right there, and Mustache Dan is calling over some sound guys. Nate turns and walks away toward the crew area, his hands in his pockets.
My heart lurches like it’s trying to go with him.
Swiss ignores me until the cameras and mics are in position. When they start filming again, though, he looks at me with a fatherly fondness. “So, Becca, are you ready to meet Preston and find out if the slipper fits?”
“I am.”
“Best of luck to you, my lady,” he says, sweeping his hand toward the ruins. “Your prince awaits.”
Then his job is over—god, how much does this dude get paid for occasionally showing up to ask a question or state something obvious?—and he gets to stand back while I attempt to hobble up a dirt path gracefully.
I fail at this, but I make it to the stone dais without falling over, so that’s a win.The ruins all around are gorgeous enough, but they’ve added pots of colorful flowers, and vines twirl down the two columns of the arch under which Preston is standing. He’s wearing a new, even more formal navy-blue princely outfit, and on a pedestal beside him, there is a glass slipper on a velvet cushion. Which will fit Addison, apparently, given what I just saw of Madison.
He grins at me—no nerves there, probably because he knows he won’t have to deal with another crying mess on this rejection. As Nate said, a couple producers come out when I walk up the steps, and they clean off my bare foot.This part will definitely be cut out of the final product.They back out of the shot, and the cameras zoom in on my feet as I take the last couple of steps toward Preston.
I can’t help it—my eyes cut back out to the amphitheater and land on Nate, who, like most of the crew and producers, is not too far away, watching. I notice Levi standing right next to him and I look quickly away again.
“Becca,” Preston says, and he takes both my hands in his. “You look incredible.”
I know my role in this. “You, too,” I say back with a pasted-on smile.
He pauses for a moment, and then his expression turns serious.
“Our relationship has been quite the journey,” he says. “It was a slower build than many of the others, but as I grew to know you better, I became increasingly impressed by the amazing woman you are.”
I keep smiling, but I’m wishing he would just get on with it. Get into the rejection meat of the compliment sandwich, so I can look properly heartbroken (not an emotion hard to reach for these last few weeks) and confirm that the slipper doesn’t fit (why do they make the rejected girls actually go through with that?) then gracefully wish him all the best and get the hell out of here so I can mourn my real loss in private.
