You could say you’re sorry AGAIN.
Fine, I write.I will, okay? I’ll say I’m sorry again.
Thea looks somewhat mollified, if still unhappy. I stand and motion for her to follow me.Come on. Let’s get you back to your family.
Thea marches out of the room, like she knows exactly where she’s going, and I trail after her. When we reach the end of the hallway, we find her grandfather looking for her. I can’t remember his name right now, but I raise a hand in greeting and he waves back, signs something atThea, and then ushers her away.
Which is good. She belongs with her family, and I belong far away from all of them. I head back and verify the flights and send messages to the shuttle drivers, making sure that Addison’s people are all going to get picked up on time.
But whatThea said eats at me. She seemed so sure that her mom still liked me, and I guess it’s possible. Becca was so worried that maybe I’d set her up or manipulated her, and I know she’s got some serious trust issues from asshole Rob. I denied it at the time, but I intended to talk to her about it again later, when she was calmer. I didn’t, because I felt so hurt that she decided to stay on the show—but I do still owe her another apology.
One I really don’t want caught on camera, so I’m not going to try to approach her about it when they’re shooting.
Later that night, I look up Becca’s room number—she’s sharing with Addison this week, while Madison rooms with Londyn, because Madison and Addison can’t be in a room for more than twenty seconds without trying to claw each other’s eyes out—and head up to her floor.
I knock softly, and Addison opens the door. She’s wearing a sports bra and a pair of booty shorts, and she regards me coolly, like she’s not at all surprised to see me. “Hey, could we get some more towels?” she says. “I spilled nail polish on one of them and the rest are all wet from my steam treatment earlier.”
I don’t ask what a steam treatment is. I also don’t remind her I’m not the concierge. “Sure,” I say. “I actually need to talk to Becca for a second. Coordinating for tomorrow.”
Tomorrow is Addison’s turn to have family day with Preston, so there’s nothing for me to coordinate with Becca, but Addison doesn’t exert herself to consider anything that doesn’t involve her. I see motion behind her, and there’s Becca, wearing a t-shirt and the same yoga pants she had on that night she came to my room.
A knot forms in my throat, but I step back, motioning for her to come out into the hall to talk.
For a moment, I think maybe she won’t. I wasn’t certain she’d even be here, what with her family in town, but I think she’s scheduled for a little extra off-camera time with them tomorrow before they leave.
I guess that’s what I could be here coordinating.
Becca looks at me warily, but she steps out into the hall and shuts the door behind her. Just like that, we’re alone. Or as alone as we can be in a hallway where anyone could step out of a room at any moment.
“Hey,” I say quietly, shoving my hands in my pockets. “I just wanted to tell you again that I’m sorry.”
“Really?” Becca says, like this surprises her.
That stings, but I shrug it off and keep going. So what if she thinks I’m a terrible person? Doesn’t mean I have to act like one. “I shouldn’t have let you talk to me about Rob that night on the balcony. I didn’t know there were cameras, but I still should have told you it wasn’t safe, just in case. I was being selfish, because I care about you, and I wanted to know what was wrong. I know it put you in a terrible position, and I’m so sorry.”
Becca’s eyes widen, and her face softens. “Thank you,” she says, almost in a whisper.
I don’t know what else to say besides that. I want to beg her to give me another chance, but I don’t have any right to, not if she wants to be dating someone else. “How are things going with Preston?” I ask. I immediately regret the question. I want her to tell me it’s going terribly, that he could never compare to me, that she regrets deciding to stay.
Something I can’t read flickers in her eyes and then she shifts uncomfortably, probably because she doesn’t want to talk about this with the guy she once slept with. Any more than she has to on camera, at least. “I don’t know. It’s so hard to get to know him in these circumstances, you know?”
“Yeah, I bet.”
“What do you think?” Becca asks. “Do you think we could be good together?”
My mouth falls open. I feel like she’s stabbed me all over again. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”
Becca looks startled, like she didn’t expect me to take offense at being asked if I think she’s a good fit with the guy she said she’d leave for me. “I, um,” she stammers, “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head at her.The ache settles in my gut, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. She didn’t even consider that the question might hurt me. She wanted me to go back to being her friend again. Maybe not even that—just her producer. Just the person who guides her through this whole weird process, in the hopes that Prince Charming will choose her and they’ll live happily ever after.
Screw that. I can’t do it.
“Good night, Becca,” I say, and I turn and leave her standing in the hall without looking back. I take the elevator down to the concierge and tell them that Addison needs more towels, because it’s my job to make sure these girls have what they need.
But I don’t have to be the fucking wingman for the woman I love more than anything in this world, even if that’s the only thing she wants from me anymore.
