The Ferrari does look good.
“Max is coming,” I say. He liked that post. Any dummy could figure out what that means. He’s coming and he’s forgiven me.
“Everything was so perfect before. It was so beautiful.”
I think for a second before coming clean with him. “JP, it was beautiful in pictures. But none of those pictures were true. They were staged and filtered, just like my life. It was all spin.”
He shakes his head. “No. Some of it was real.”
Did he really not know? “I lied about everything. I lied to you. The business was all facade, my image was all facade, I was in trouble with the cops. I charged you for matchmaking and then set myself up with you.”
He draws his eyebrows together. “You faked your way into my life. Sure, I was mad. But hey, it’s what you do. It’s what we all do. What am I? I was born with this money. I’m not brilliant. I pretend every day to be as smart and good as people think I am, but it’s an act. You, though—you made it on your own. That is impressive. You faked your way to the top. I’m not mad. I’m proud of you.”
Faked my way to the top—that is pretty cool. No one at the top deserves to be there, so what does it matter that I faked it? He’s right.
“Just get in the Ferrari. Let’s go get a cocktail somewhere nice and then go home. Tomorrow I’m going to find you the best doctor in LA.”
If he had told me all this five days ago, if he hadn’t been gone when I’d lost my memory, I would have fallen right back into my place at his side. But…I don’t know now.
Max texts: If you’re in line, I’ll take the special!
He follows it up with a pic of him in the helmet. On my way. Sorry I’m late! Have been in fMRI room telling the truth all day. Fixed lie detector. Learned a few things about myself…
I remember that there are no phones allowed in the fMRI room. He didn’t even find out about our taco date until the “I don’t love you, too” text a few minutes ago.
I shut my eyes for a second. This is so intense. I try to remember all the feelings I’ve had over the last few days. I really connected with Max. A real connection. I connected with Crystal, especially after I repaired our relationship. That’s real. The yacht, the fake bios on GoldRush—everything I arrived to on Thursday felt hollow, like a chocolate Easter bunny. You bite into it and it’s just a waxy shell. That’s my relationship with JP, a waxy shell of Jacques-o-late, beautiful but empty.73
“Mia?”
I turn and see the person I’ve been waiting for.
Max steps out of the passenger side of a Kia. His T-shirt is aqua (a great color for him) and says THE SQUARE ROOT OF YOU IS ME. He looks as confused to see me with JP as I feel about his T-shirt. Is it supposed to be romantic? Is it a math joke? Does he it mean he loves me? “I’m sorry, Max. I really wanted to meet you for tacos.” I don’t say “alone” but I think it’s implied.
“Then what’s he doing here?”
I exhale. I didn’t invite him, I mouth. Then I say, a little too loudly, “JP wants to marry me and he thought he’d interrupt tacos.”
JP looks from me to Max. “I didn’t say that exactly.”
“Oh, I guess I misunderstood,” I say.
“I mean, I do want to marry you, but I would like to get you back to normal before we make plans.”
Wow. This nonoffer really seems to rely on me turning back into my former self.
Max walks over to us. “Well, I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I really want to sit down, have a burrito, and get to know you better.”
JP says, “This is interesting and all, but…I think it’s time to go.” He gestures to the crowd, which looks a little druggy at this hour. “I’m not sure if it’s safe here.”
I look down at the burrito. It takes up almost the whole plate. I can’t remember what’s in it—some kind of fatty pork with extra guac and beans and special sauce. “I only have one burrito.”
I look between them and I know what I have to do. JP might have been offered the role of The Bachelor, but he didn’t want it. I do, though. I am The Bachelorette.
“There are two of you, but I only have one burrito. I could buy another one, but I want to make my choice now. Even though both of you are super awesome and amazing in your own way, only one of you can have the burrito.”
Max squints at me, as if he’s trying to make sense of what I’m saying. He’s clearly never watched The Bachelor.
“JP, you are the most perfect man imaginable. You are beautiful and successful and nice, and you forgave me for so many bad things. For that, I am grateful. I’m grateful for everything you offered, but I don’t love you and I can’t be the woman you want anymore. It’s time to say good-bye.”
JP shakes his head. “Fine. I can’t believe what you just gave up, though.”
Me either.
I can tell JP is going to livestream his reaction, just like a rejected contestant on The Bachelorette. Crystal and I will watch it later with a cocktail.
I turn to Max. “Max, JP just offered me a cocktail and a ride in a Ferrari and probably a life as a lady billionaire, but I’m a woman of my word. At least, I am now. I invited you to tacos. I bought this burrito for you. I saved this seat for you. More than anything, I want you to give me another chance.”
He smiles big. “Thanks, Mia.”
I hand him the burrito. It’s on a Chinet plate and has no garnish. It’s better than any single, long-stemmed rose. “I know we’ve only known each other for a few days, but I don’t care. All I want to do is get to know you better.”
I still want to be a billionaire, obviously, but I’ll figure that out on my own. I already faked it all the way to the top once and I’m only…twenty-seven? I can’t remember. I’ll need to double-check. At any rate, I’m super young. It’s scientifically proven that thirty is the new eighteen. I’m barely old enough to vote.
“Did you already eat?” he asks.
“Yeah, I was starving. Do you need a fork?” I ask.
He nods. “Probably. And maybe you could get dessert or something?”
“Good idea.” I don’t want to just watch him eat like I have a fetish.
I look back at the Kia Max emerged from. I think I see Chan in the driver’s seat. “Is he okay? Does he want some food too?”
“Chan? He’s cool, he’s just messing around on his phone.”
“He’s driving us home, right?”