This man. This fuckingman.
‘You’re on.’
Murray won the bet, although it hardly seemed fair. ‘That was a technicality,’ I complained. ‘He started crying the second he opened his mouth! You only won because you asked the first question.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said loftily, ‘but the ancient rule of “you snooze, you lose” comes into effect here.’
I jabbed him in the ribs with my elbow. He laughed and draped his arm around my shoulders. ‘Let’s go watch him leave.’
We stood at the front window of the Villa, watching the limo with Denton in it pull away. We’d sent Suzette along for the ride so a) we could milk his elimination for all it was worth, and b) she could get a slice of the credit too.
The Villa was quiet. The crew had finished breaking down the Necklace Ceremony set while we were interviewing Denton. The Juliets had gone to bed, the adrenaline crash knocking them all out. We’d have to come back early tomorrow and shoot pickup ITMs, but it’d be worth it. We couldn’t avoid Tony’s inevitable wrath, but maybe it wouldn’t bequiteso bad if we gave him time to cool down.
I laughed.
‘What?’ Murray asked.
‘You snooze, you lose,’ I said. ‘Do you think we might have accidentally forced Tony to develop a work ethic?’
He chuckled. ‘If we have, then we deserve some kind of industry award.’
I laughed again, and he laughed too, and then we were both laughing, uncontrollably, hysterical, bent over, clutching at each other to stay upright. ‘Did you see Denton’sface?’ I gasped.
‘Which one?’ Murray wheezed. ‘After the first rejection? the second? or the eighth?’
‘Eight!’ I howled. ‘We just got this man dumped eight fucking times in a row!’
‘Oh no,’ he said, imitating Denton’s voice. ‘I never thought there’d beconsequencesfor my actions.’
‘No, no, no, you have to do the face too,’ I was almost crying with how hard I was laughing. ‘The way he sort ofpulls his eyebrows together like he’s trying to suck the tears back up into his eyes.’
‘Like this?’
‘No, no – like this.’ I cupped his face in my hands so I could use my thumbs to manipulate his eyebrows. ‘You’ve got to draw them inthisway, and…’
My voice trailed off.
Murray wasn’t laughing any more. Neither was I. Around us, everything was dark and still and quiet.
‘Lily,’ he said.
I stroked his cheekbones with my thumbs. Let my fingertips brush gently against his hairline, his ears, the well-past-five-o’clock shadow on his jaw.
‘Say it again,’ I whispered. ‘Say my name again. Like that.’
‘Lily,’ he growled.
My breath caught.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
There was only one possible answer.
‘Yes,’ I said.
And then we were kissing.
There were mounted cameras all through the downstairs living area. He picked me up, and with my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist, we stumbled into the Villa laundry, pressed so tightly together you couldn’t tell where I stopped and he began. ‘What if one of the Juliets wakes up and comes down here?’ I asked breathlessly as he kicked the door closed and sat me on top of the washing machine.
