Daniel had cried. She hadn’t anticipated that.
Marcy stood at the Final Choice altar, her arms wrapped tight around her middle, feeling unaccountably cold even with the midday sun warming her shoulders. The strapless gown was a lavender so pale it flirted with bridal white—which just seemed cruel since she wasn’t going to be marrying anyone anytime soon.
Shit. What had she done?
She didn’t love Daniel, but should she have picked him anyway on the belief that she could grow to love him? Once Craig was out of the picture, would her stupid heart have fallen in line?
The scene the producers had set was almost nauseatingly romantic. The symbolic altar—part of every Miss Right and Mister Perfect finale—had been set up at the end of a rose arbor overlooking the crystal blue perfection of the famous Italian lake. Flowers that weren’t perfect enough had been removed and replaced until each bloom was as flawless as the last.
Nearby bushes rustled and Amelia stepped out of them where she’d been hiding from the cameras’ views. “The car is coming up the drive now,” she informed Marcy. “Pendleton will meet him and escort him as far as the top of the path and then it’s up to you. I know the instinct is to get it over with quickly, but don’t be afraid to let the drama build. In the end, it will be good for both of you if you don’t leave anything unsaid today.” She smiled, as if Marcy weren’t about to dump the man she loved on national television. “All set?”
“Sure. Yeah.”
“Good. And just remember I’m only a few feet away with security if he should start to get violent. Good luck!”
Marcy glared after the producer. Her bedside manner sucked.
But her glare didn’t last long. She was too busy turning toward the villa and squinting for some glimpse of Craig at the top of the path.
He appeared—all swagger and charisma—long legs, a dark suit, and a cocky smile. Her heart lurched. This was it. The last time she was going to see him smile at her. She didn’t know how he would react when she rejected him, but she knew it wouldn’t be with smiles. Or maybe it would be. Maybe he would laugh it off and she would be the one to burst into tears at the proof that all his mights and maybes had been nothing more than the illusion of emotion that didn’t exist.
The path was too freaking long. It was taking him forever.
When Daniel had walked toward her, the time had seemed to pass in a blink. Everything had seemed like it was in fast forward. Her apology, his tears, his departure. It all flew past her in a rush, but now time seemed to have reversed, each second stretching into a hundred until she could barely breathe from the pressure of it.
She could do this. All she had to do was open her mouth and say, It’s over. We’re done. Easy.
All she had to do was crack open her chest and rip out her heart.
Easy.
#
She wasn’t smiling.
She looked stunning, standing in a flowing purplish dress in front of the altar with the pristine mountain lake as a backdrop behind her, but when she met his eyes, she wasn’t smiling.
Well, shit. That couldn’t be a good sign.
Craig forced his own smile to stay steady as he made his way down the path toward her. It had to be the world’s longest garden path—probably chosen by the producers expressly for its ability to torture him with the fucking hike to his doom. And it was definitely starting to feel like doom.
A little frown line had appeared between her eyebrows and as he got closer he thought he could even detect the glimmer of tears in her big green eyes. That wouldn’t do. Even if she was planning to dump his ass, he wasn’t going to let her cry.
“Hey, Marcy,” he called, flashing his cockiest grin and trying to bring them back to a less serious place.
Her smile was pathetic and forced. “Hey, Craig.”
“You look like you’re going to a funeral. If it’s my funeral, I should warn you that I always pictured it as more a drunken revel where everyone talks shit about me than a morbid thing. Kind of like a post-life roast. Since I’ll probably be roasting myself.” He winked.
“That’s what you have to say? Jokes about the fires of Hell?”
There was a flicker of something—disappointment?—in her eyes. What did she want from him? It was obvious from her expression that she’d already made up her mind and he wasn’t her guy. He could beg. He could lay his heart out there, but she was just going to tromp on it. She’d as much as announced it the second she saw him.
She couldn’t even smile at him.
He should take the job and run. Tell her he’d chosen career over love. Take the sure thing, the guarantee. She’d made it clear she was a bad bet. If he chose love over money, he might not get either. At least if he went with the job, he’d have what he came for, since he could never have her.
He’d never been good enough for her in the first place.
He stepped up beside her at the altar. This was it. “Actually, there is something I need to tell you.”
“Wait, before you say anything—” She held up a hand, as if to stop him and he caught it, interlacing their fingers together.
“I have to go first,” he insisted. Those are the rules. And besides, it made better television. “The producers and Pendleton came to me.”
“What?” She blinked, her brow furrowing, obviously not expecting his confession to go in that direction.
“They offered me a job. On network television.”
“Craig, that’s great.”
“On the condition that I dump you at the altar.”
Her jaw dropped. “Oh.”
There was a wealth of understanding in that word—but it was the wrong understanding. He could take the job and run, but he couldn’t stand the flash of pain in her eyes, nor the way all the fight seemed to leak out of her like water through a sieve.
“I don’t want it.”
She shook her head, helpless and confused. “I don’t understand.”
“The job. They can shove it. I choose you.”
Her jaw dropped again, and this time it stayed down, shock blanketing her face. Not a single word came out, so he filled the silence. He was a radio guy. He was good at filling silence. And for all that he’d thought these words would be hard to say, nothing had ever come easier.
“I lied when I said I would break your heart. Or maybe I meant it at the time, but I was a fucking idiot. I would cut out my own heart before I let anything happen to yours. I choose you and I want you to choose me. Please, baby. Even if the guy who gets picked is never as famous as the runner up. Even if it means we become just another sappy success story to get trotted out at the reunion specials. I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you. You’re the only person I don’t have to be the funny guy with—but you’re the one I want to make laugh the most. I can relax with you. I can be myself with you even when there are a hundred fucking cameras on us. I need you, Marcy, to make me real. And yes, I am scared shitless of love, but that didn’t stop me from falling in love with you. I don’t think anything could have.”
“In love?”
“What did you think this was about? The Friend Zone? I love you like crazy.” He paused. “It is actually crazy. I’m giving up the job of a lifetime for you. You should probably have my head examined.”
“You love me. No mights. No maybes. You just do.”
He frowned. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“You’re all in. No more walls. No more games.”
“I like games. Monopoly. Cards Against Humanity.”
“Craig.”
“I’m all in, Marcy.”
“I was going to send you home.”
A two ton stone landed in his stomach. “Yeah. I got that sense.” Then the penny dropped. “Wait. You were going to? You aren’t anymore?”
“I wanted you from the second I saw you. I fell for you so hard and I felt like such an idiot. Every time you said you were just here for the exposure, I felt like more of a fool for wanting more from you. I was so certain you would never be able to want me back.”
He didn’t know whether to be hopeful or crushed by her words, teetering on the knife edge between elation and misery. “Please tell me you didn’t already choose Daniel.”
She took a breath, looking up at him. “I sent him home.”
Balancing on that blade, not yet daring to fall to one side. “And now?”
She shook her head wonderingly. “I can’t believe this.”
Marcy’s hand moved to hover over the single favor that waited atop the altar. For a long moment, she made him wait, then her hand descended. “Craig Corrow, do you believe in happy endings?”
“With you? I believe in happy everything.”
“You’re insane. And I adore you, you madman. You are my best bad influence, tempting me to love more than I ever thought I could. So will you please accept this final token of my favor?”
He plunged head-first off the knife-edge into euphoria. “Fuck yes. Give it to me.”
She laughed. “You always say the sweetest things.”
Her hands were shaking as they pinned the ribbons to his lapel. When she was done, he caught her trembling hands between his own. “My turn.”
Craig sank down onto one knee and Marcy’s eyes went saucer wide. “What are you doing?”
“I called your father before I came here. I figured I needed his permission if I was going to propose to you.”
“Oh my God.”
“I asked him for his blessing. And he said fuck no.”
A startled laugh burst out of her mouth.
“So I was thinking maybe we should just date for a little while. At least until I can win your father over.”
Her smile was blinding and he knew his must be just as ridiculous. “I like that plan.”
He came to his feet, sliding his arms around her and pulling her close. “The producers would probably like it if we kissed now.”
“Just for the cameras?”
“One last time for the cameras. And then the next two thousand kisses are just for me.”
But when she kissed him, he knew he’d have to renegotiate. Two thousand would never be enough.