Henry eyes the scroll in his hands. “Well, that was unexpected,” he says. “I, um…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Addison.” His voice cracks on her name. “Will you accept this scroll?”
She lets out a brief squeal before collecting herself and walking coolly down the steps. “Thank you,” she says. “I can’t wait for a chance to show you who I really am.”
“Who she really is?” Stacy whispers.
“Who she really is is actually hiding in plain sight,” I say.
Anna, free as a bird, runs down the steps and gives Henry a hug, followed by a dejected Samantha.
Addison eyes me from the other side of the crowd, and I can’t help but wonder what happened on her date last night. Not only did she come home early, but she was nearly eliminated too.
Anna rushes over to me and gives me a long hug. “I feel so much better. But I think Mom might kill me—”
“Kill you?” I ask. “That was ratings gold!”
She thinks about that for a moment, straightening into a proud stance. “Yeah, it was! Wasn’t it?”
“I love you,” I tell her. “You and Drew stay out of trouble—or I don’t know, get into trouble.” I can’t believe I’m going to be alone here now.
Anna’s eyes water as she nods eagerly. “Win this shit,” she says. “I saw you and Henry up in that boxing ring. There’s something there. And that prize money could get you started in a big way.”
“Samantha, Anna,” says Chad, “I’m sorry, but it’s time to say goodbye.”
The remaining women watch as Samantha and Anna get into the Rolls-Royce and are driven off the property.
We all turn to walk back inside once the car disappears over the horizon, but seemingly out of nowhere, a bright yellow taxicab speeds up the hill and through the gates, honking its horn.
“Henry, I’ll let you tell them,” Chad says.
“Well, like Chad said, I’ve got some business to attend to, and I thought, what better way to do it than to take you all with me, so you should all pack your bags. We’re going to New York City!”
My whole body immediately eases at the sound of my city’s name. My home for the last four years. New York.
“Exciting stuff!” Chad says. “You’ve all got one hour to get ready, and, ladies, we will not be returning to the Before Midnight château until the finale. It’s time to hit the road.”
We fly out on an Airbus chartered by the network, and we have enough room for each of us to stretch out across a whole aisle, which is definitely much less cramped than my flight here. Henry is kept away from us up front in first class. I understand that the whole purpose of the show is to catch every interaction with Henry on camera and that all of those moments are heavily orchestrated and guarded, but it seems silly to keep us away from him during a six-hour coast-to-coast flight when we’re all on the same plane and privacy is impossible. It’s a reminder that this isn’t about falling in love. It’s about entertainment.
I claim the first row of coach just behind Henry in the last row of first class. He stretches back a few times, rustling the curtain between us. We’re so close it’s maddening. Midway through the flight, when almost everyone else is passed out, a small notebook slides out in between my feet. I reach down to find Henry’s notebook.
Written there beside the lipstick kiss I left him a few weeks ago it now reads: Walkie-talkie date night tonight?
I dig a pen out of my bag and write back: Affirmative. Cabbage Patch.
I reach forward, holding the notebook, and squeeze my hand through the narrow gap between his seat and the window.
His hand catches mine, and he holds on for one, two, three, four, five seconds before taking the notebook and letting go.
When we land at a private airport in Westchester, we’re loaded into a few Suburbans. I find myself dozing as we make the drive into the city. Eventually, we stop in front of a hotel near the Battery. When the valet opens the passenger door, I step into a warm flood of light from the hotel sign above that reads THE WAGNER.
We’re left to congregate in the hotel lobby while Wes and Beck check us and the whole crew in, like they’re our senior trip chaperones.
For the first time all day, Henry is left unguarded, and I’m the only one who seems to notice. Every other woman is either trying to look like an Instagram model for one of the camera guys grabbing some B-roll, or they’re crowded around half a copy of yesterday’s contraband newspaper someone left out beside the fruit bowl.
Mallory and Zeke, who should be guarding Henry, are bickering over tomorrow’s schedule as Henry wanders into the gift shop.
When no one’s looking, I follow him inside. I find him shaking a few snow globes and then marveling at them as he sets them back down to watch the snow fall.
“Kind of a different sort of flight than our first one together,” I say.
He startles a little at the sound of my voice, but his whole expression eases when he sees me, a smile twitching in his jaw. “Hey there, Cabbage Patch.”
“I can’t believe it’s only been three weeks since we left.”
He runs a hand through his hair, pulling on it a little so that it looks nice and rustled. Somehow, he’s managed to look disheveled in a sexy way after a six-hour flight. “I think about that day a lot.”
I take a step closer to him, so that we’re both hidden by a tower of teddy bears in I ♥ NY T-shirts. “Regret getting on that flight?”
He frowns. “It’s not the flight I regret.” He reaches out to my hand dangling at my side and links his pinkie with mine, and it feels like my whole pounding heart is right there, living in my little finger. And despite my whole body feeling this one small touch, things also seem normal in this moment. Like two people who just randomly met and hit it off standing in a hotel gift shop together surrounded by tacky souvenirs and glittering snow globes.
“I went looking for you today,” I tell him. “I was trying to help Anna find you, but then suddenly we had an elimination ceremony going on and…well, you know the rest.”
He smiles. “I saw her with Zeke last night on my way back to my room. At least someone was getting some action.”
“Oh…well, you were a good sport.”
“What else was I supposed to say? The premise of this whole show is—” He stops and something seems to dawn on him, like the fact that he doesn’t really know much about how I feel about this show and what reasons I’m here for.
“It’s ridiculous,” I say. “You can say it.”
“I was going to say ludicrous, actually.”
“Henry?” a voice calls. It sounds like Mallory. “We’ve got you all set up in a suite.”
“Shit,” he mutters.
I duck around the corner of the display and shoo him forward, and here I am, hiding once again.
He doubles back and bends down, pressing his lips to my forehead and murmuring, “What I wouldn’t do for ten minutes alone with you.”
My stomach knots into a bow as I wait a few minutes before I slink out of the gift shop, where the annoyed attendant is waiting to roll down the metal grate. “Sorry,” I tell the stout old man.