My mood didn’t improve within the next twenty-four hours. The planning for the gala barely gave me enough time to sleep, let alone sneak away to spend time with Dash. So by the time the event rolled around on Wednesday night, I was jealous, crabby, and exhausted. Not a good combination at all.

And now I had to watch Dash’s fairy tale continue. Without me.

The whole thing was starting to feel more and more like a gigantic mistake. Maybe it had been exciting at first—all the secrecy and sneaking around—but now it just made me feel gross. And I didn’t want to feel this way.

I was heading across the ballroom of the gala, about to go prepare my contestants—all three of them—for a romantic date with the guy I was sleeping with, when an arm reached out of a nearby door and yanked me inside.

“Well, this seems familiar,” Dash said as he pulled me into a storage closet. And then he kissed me.

I was tired and frustrated and bummed, but I still couldn’t help the way my body reacted to him. Immediately, I was kissing him back, my shoulder blades pressed up against the door I had been pulled through. He tasted so good, and all of my tension and stress melted away. Whatever Dash was doing with the other girls was a game. What he was doing with me was real.

“I’ve missed you,” he said once we had broken apart.

“I’ve missed you too,” I confessed, leaning my forehead against his.

“I can’t wait until all of this is over.” He cupped my face.

“It feels like it will never be over,” I complained, hearing the whine in my voice.

Dash smiled. “We’re close,” he reminded me. “Just this week left. Patrick told me there’s only one more elimination and then final dates and then it’s done.”

Except that wasn’t how it went.

“What about the home visits?” I reminded him, bitterness bubbling up inside of me again.

“Home visits?” he asked, appearing confused.

Of course. He had never watched the show before. I stepped back from his grasp.

“After we’re done filming here, you have to go to visit the final three’s families,” I told him. “Meet their friends. And then come back to the mansion in a few weeks to either propose to one or break their hearts on live TV. That’s the way this works.”

Dash looked taken aback.

“I don’t plan on breaking anyone’s heart on live TV,” he informed me. “But I’m not going to propose either.”

The laugh that escaped my lips was a hallow one. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “You’re the one who told me to flirt with the girls. You’re the one who reminded me that I need the money.”

He was right. And he did need the money.

I felt like shit.

“I’m sorry,” I told him, rubbing my forehead. “I’m just exhausted.” I forced a smile on my face. “You’re doing great.”

He clearly did not believe me, but didn’t argue.

“Will I see you after the gala?” he asked, pushing some hair back off of my cheek.

“Sure,” I said, still wearing that fake smile.

Dash gave me a look. “OK,” he finally responded. “Good.”

“Great.”

Then, before I did something stupid like kiss him again or burst into tears, I escaped the storage closet and went back to doing my job.

* * *

I lasted about ninety minutes. The gala started and the ballroom filled with people wearing gowns and tuxedos. All three of my girls looked incredible. Jasmine was wearing a beautiful yellow silk dress that molded to each of her curves, while Kimmie was doing her best Angelina Jolie impression in a black dress with a slit all the way up her thigh. But it was Savannah who looked the most stunning. Her blue dress was glittery and gorgeous, her hair in some intricate, shimmering pile on top of her head.

She was on Dash’s arm, smiling and waving at people, the perfect date for an event like this. They looked so good together.

“I’m not feeling well,” I told Andrea, and it wasn’t a lie.

She gave me a once-over, but something about my expression must have shown how tired and worn down I was, and her face softened, just a little.

“Take the night off,” she said. “You’ve been doing great work—I think we can handle tonight without you.”

I wanted to French kiss her out of relief.

On the ride back to the hotel, I decided to torture myself even more and go to a few of the websites that recapped the show. Ever since episodes had begun airing, it was clear that Savannah was a fan favorite. Everyone loved her and the whole world seemed to be rooting for her and Dash to end up together.

By the time I got back to my room, I was feeling worse than ever. I just wanted to take a bath with a bottle of wine, but before I could execute that plan, my phone rang. I was getting a Skype call from Emmy. I accepted, and immediately my best friend’s smiling face filled my screen.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” she said.

I almost burst into tears.

“What’s wrong?” Emmy’s expression was immediately serious.

“I’m the biggest idiot in the whole world,” I told her.

“Well, that can’t be right,” she corrected me. “You don’t know everyone in the whole world. There has to be someone who’s a bigger idiot than you.”

I managed a laugh.

“I’m falling for Dash,” I admitted, tired of keeping it a secret from so many people.

Emmy listened as I filled her in on everything.

“Well,” she said when I was done. “That does sound like a predicament.”

“A predicament?” I threw up a hand. “This is a disaster.”

“Honey.” She gave me a look. “A disaster is getting caught making out in an alley with a member of the royal family and having photos plastered over every single tabloid in the world. And I survived that. So you can survive this.”

She was right. Emmy and Charlie had it way worse than Dash and I did. But still, it didn’t make my situation feel any less awful.

We talked for several hours, but even Emmy admitted that there wasn’t much either of us could do until the show was over.

“At least you’re nearing the end,” she reminded me. “Just focus on that.”

“You’re right,” I agreed, even though I still felt like crap.

Then there was a knock at the door.

“I should go,” I told Emmy. “I’m guessing that Lorna forgot her key.”

We said goodbye and I headed over to the door, peering through the peephole first. It wasn’t Lorna on the other side of the door. It was Dash. Still in his tuxedo from the gala. He looked so handsome. My stomach leapt into my throat as I opened the door.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I came to see you,” he told me. “And give you this.”

Then, from behind his back, he pulled out one single, perfect red rose.