I frown. “Yeah. Yeah, he was.”
She squeezes my hand. “There will be other tongues in the sea.”
I smile at her. “Gross, but thank you.”
On the screen, a Rolls-Royce pulls up, and after a dramatic pause, Chad opens the door as Sara Claire emerges.
“How are they going to play this?” Sierra asks.
“I hadn’t thought that far.”
Henry greets Sara Claire with a kiss on the cheek and a long hug. “Is this hug unusually long?” I ask.
Sierra pours a Pixy Stix down her throat. “Do we hate her?”
I sigh. “That would make things much easier. But she’s actually really great.”
“Boo. Hiss.”
Chad congratulates Sara Claire on making it this far and directs her to the house. “Now I think it’s time we let the audience see who’s in our second car. What do you say, Henry?”
Henry nods as another Rolls-Royce pulls up the hill. This time it’s Addison. She slinks out of the car in a black gown with strategically placed cutouts so that she’s showing just a hint of under-boob.
Sierra twists her head to the side. “Is that, like, a swimsuit evening gown? Like, a Sports Illustrated evening gown? And do you ever wonder how God decided whose bodies would require bras and whose wouldn’t?”
“I don’t think God had anything to do with those boobs,” I say.
She nods. “Fair.”
The final car pulls up. My Rolls-Royce—the one that should be carrying me. I wonder if they went with one of the other girls from Mexico or if they scrambled and brought in a previously eliminated girl. Maybe even Drew or Anna.
The driver stops and Chad steps forward to open the door.
But nothing. No one. Dramatic music plays as the camera lingers on the empty back seat.
Confusion knits Henry’s brows as he leans down to look inside the limo. “Wha-what’s going on? Where is she?”
Chad turns to Henry, a solemn expression on his face. “Henry, I’m sorry to break the news to you like this, but Cindy isn’t here. When we invited her to this evening’s ball…she declined.”
Confusion slowly turns to pain as Henry pieces the words together. “Why would she—Where is she? I just need to talk to her. I just—just us—I…”
Chad claps a hand to Henry’s shoulder. “Everything happens for a reason, Henry. And I think one of those reasons might be waiting inside for you.”
I hate seeing this unguarded version of Henry exposed on television. All I want is to shield him from the pain, but he’s there and I’m here. I chose to be here. I chose this.
“That was intensely agonizing to watch,” Sierra says. “Are you okay?”
“Why would they do that to him?” My chest tightens and tears begin to well. “They knew since this morning. They didn’t have to tell him on live TV.”
“Talk about brutal.”
After the commercial break, Chad returns. He sits in an armchair in the middle of the courtyard with Sara Claire and Addison sitting across from him.
“We’re back with Sara Claire to talk about her emotional and deeply meaningful time with Henry at the villa last week. But first, Sara Claire, I’m sure you’ve now heard about Cindy standing Henry up this evening.”
Sara Claire gives a measured nod, and I can see that she’s trying her best not to look too excited. She wears a beautiful ivory gown that has just a touch of a train to it. It’s very sexy while also very clearly saying Marry me. “Poor Henry.”
I bristle at that, even if I do share the sentiment. Breathe in. Breathe out. Sara Claire is a perfectly good option for Henry, and she’s supposed to be the one he chooses anyway. I chose to be here. I chose myself. They’ll be happy together, and all I’ll have to do is ignore all pop culture news for the next year—maybe two so that I don’t have to see any evidence of their love ever again. That’s all. Simple, right?
Chad and Sara Claire talk for a while, reminiscing over the villa and her first big date earlier in the season.
“Are you okay?” Sierra asks. “You look like you’re way in your head. Like you could be in a Stephen King novel kind of in-your-head moment.”
“I’m fine,” I tell her.
“Famous last words.”
“Well, before we bring Henry back out,” Chad says, “let’s check in with Addison.”
Addison preens and sits up, pushing her shoulders back and her chest out.
“Addison,” Chad says. “How are you?”
She flips her long hair over her shoulder as she lets out a soft sigh. “I’m just so heartbroken for Henry. I know that he’s got some healing to do, and that he and I have had our share of trials and tribulations, but true love is worth fighting for. So I’m here, Chad, and I’m fighting. I’m fighting a hell of a lot harder than Cindy ever did, because she was never here for Henry to begin with. We all know it. All Cindy cared about was getting her name out there. But I’m not here for fame, Chad. I’m here for Henry.”
“Turn it off,” I say as I jump out of bed, scrambling to search for the remote. Red-hot anger pulses through my veins. How dare she say that? “I can’t afford to replace this TV if I break it. We have to turn it off.”
“I’m on it! I’m on it!” Sierra springs to action and runs right for the outlet, pulling the plug completely. “It’s off,” she says, holding the plug up in her fist.
I let out a shaky sigh. “Okay, okay, I’m fine.”
We both fling ourselves back onto the bed. “What now?” I ask.
“Room service?” Sierra offers.
“I hear the sweet potato fries are good. And ask for a side of vanilla glaze.”
She rolls over and reaches for the phone on the nightstand. “You got it.”
As I’m lying there, listening to Sierra place her very detailed and extensive order, my phone rings.
I let it go to voicemail. I can’t right now.
Sierra hangs up and in her most serious voice says, “I really hope you don’t have to pay for all the food I just ordered.”
“Gossamer is footing the bill. It can’t be more than the most expensive private lunch of all time I had earlier today.”
“Is that a challenge?” she asks.
My phone begins to ring again, and this time I sit up to answer. Maybe it’s an emergency. “Everyone I know is watching this show—”
“Could be about the job,” Sierra says.
“Yeah, at ten o’clock at night.”
“Fashion never sleeps.”
I look down to see Beck’s name lighting up my screen. “Hello?” I ask into the phone. “Beck?”
“Where is he?” she asks. “Do you know where he is? Has he tried to call you?”
“Has who? What’s going on?”
“Are you literally the only American not watching this damn show right now? Henry is gone. He’s MIA. The suitor is missing. I repeat: The suitor is missing.”
I gasp. “Oh my God.”
“What?” Sierra asks.
“Turn on the TV. Turn on the TV!”
“Ugh, first you want it off. Then you want it on.” She forces herself out of bed and begins to fidget with the plug and then the remote. The TV screen is static, and clearly, we’ve somehow reset it after ripping the plug from the wall.