I can’t believe how heavy my feet feel as I walk from my car to the doors of the station. When did it all stop being so simple? I was on top of the world, ready to take a chance to make my dreams come true. Cocky as hell. Certain that I would take down all the competition and win the money. There was no other option.

And there’s still no other option. Only my heart isn’t in it anymore. What happens when I have to look her in the eye and know I’m the reason her mother can’t get the treatment she needs? Is my dream really more important than a woman’s life?

Have my priorities fallen that far out of whack that I’d even consider it? I thought I knew who I was. Maybe I never did. Maybe the go-go-go of the last few years has been a joke, a waste of time. What do I have to show for it? I haven’t made progress, not really. I have office space but no staff except for Eric. A lot of promises from potential investors that all fell through, one after another. But giving up is for pussies and I’m no pussy.

Will that be enough to help me sleep at night when I know Dakota’s mother died without treatment? Will I console myself with healthy quarterly returns when I know the only woman I’ve ever given a damn about hates me because I let her mother die? I don’t want to end up as one of those burned-out businessmen who needs anxiety meds and antidepressants just to function. What’s the point of a successful business if I haven’t led a successful life?

I step into the elevator, just like I did that first day. Only then, I was with Dakota. I had no idea what she’d do to me. Oh, if I could only go back to that day, when things were simpler. Life was black and white. Good and bad. Hard workers and the rest of the loser slobs who weren’t brave enough, smart enough, or strong enough to hold onto their dreams the way I could. What if I did win the game? A million dollars and a lifetime of guilt.

Guilt—the gift that keeps on giving.

The hall was a flurry of activity. It’s all the same as the first day. Yet, it feels so different?

One of the clipboard-holding assistants spots me. “You! Makeup!”

“Uh, alright. Where would I find that?”

She points me down the hall before hurrying away.

Terrific. Is Dakota going to be there, too? I can’t believe how stressed I am as I walk in the direction of the makeup room. My shoes click against the tiled floor.

I open the door and there is no one there. No Dakota. I’m alone. They probably want to keep us separated before the big reveal of whatever stupid stunt they’ve come up with. I can’t imagine what they’ll have us do that will top what happened last night.

The door opens and a redhead with a huge rack walks in. She’s carrying a mug of something. “Sorry, popped out to get some coffee.”

“No problem.”

“Anyway, my name is Karen, and I’ll be preparing you.” She puts her mug down and winks at me. “So this is the finale, huh?”

“How did you know?”

“We watch all the tapings from backstage. Your story is going to be huge when the show’s edited and broadcasted. Get ready to be famous. Last night was epic. You nearly fell twice, didn’t you? And that kiss. You were guys weren’t pretending, were you?”

“What makes you think that?”

She laughs. “Wait until you see what I saw.”  

This just gets worse and worse.

She brushes against my arm and lingers just a little too long.

I get the message, but she might as well be coming on to a deaf man because all I can process is the image of me and Dakota having to do press junkets for the show. Tabloids will want to link us together. Good Morning America and Today will want to talk to us once the finale airs. I don’t watch reality TV but I know the couples on the dating shows can become household names—until the next couple comes along, of course.

Karen carries on chatting while she finishes my makeup job, but I stop listening.

All I can think of is how much Dakota will hate me for winning.

“All done,” Karen says, and pulls away the squares of tissue paper she tucked into my collar.

“Thanks.

The door opens and another assistant pops her head in. “You ready?”

I nod and give myself one more look in the mirror. You’ve got this. You’re unstoppable. All the work has led up to this moment. But I struggle to pull up memories of all the late nights, the sleepless ones, the endless cycle of emails, meetings, cold calls and energy drinks and sometimes falling asleep at my desk when I just couldn’t take anymore. I used to consider myself a warrior, one of the few who were willing to do whatever it took to succeed. I wore that like a badge. I used to look down on the weak ones, the men and women who let anything else get in the way of what had to be done.

Look at me now. What a joke. Only I don’t feel like laughing.

I feel like I’m heading to the electric chair as I walk down the hall to the studio doors. “Where’s Dakota?” I ask.

“Already inside. The producers thought it best to keep the two of you apart today.”

Yeah, I bet they did. They love this. They want to milk it for every last bit of drama they can. And there’s no way it’s completely accidental that they kept pairing us in sexual, romantic situations. The strip tease club and restaurant scenario was one thing, but the concert? Making me propose? No, that wasn’t an accident. They have to know something brewed between us. I hope for her sake, they don’t take the low road and use it against us now.

The audience is waiting as I walk into the studio, and the murmuring I heard when the doors opened gets louder when they see me come in. When I step into the spotlight trained on one side of the set, they burst into applause. It’s a far cry from the lackluster reception they gave us on the first day.

I don’t see any of them. I barely hear them over the roar in my ears. All I see is her.

God, she’s beautiful. And scared to death. She stops chewing on her bottom lip to smile.

I do the same. I wish I could hold her, tell her it’ll be alright. No matter what happens, I’ll find a way to get her mother treated. I would say or do anything right now, if only I could make her not hate me—as long as she doesn’t hate me.

Out comes our host, looking just as insincere as ever. “Wow, wow! Finally, we have these two together again, in our studio! Come on, everybody, let’s show them how much we’ve enjoyed and appreciated them over the course of the competition!”

The place erupts again, louder than ever. Almost ferocious, like a bunch of wild animals.

I need to get out of my head. I’ll drive myself crazy if I don’t. I blink against the lights in my eyes and try to keep smiling. If I can just focus on smiling, the rest will pass and it’ll all be over soon.

“Before we get to the last stunt for you two crazy kids, why don’t we revisit your antics? I know the audience would love to walk down Memory Lane.” That cheesy grin is plastered to his face as he guides Dakota and me to a sofa off the side of a large screen.

I want to reach for her visibly shaking hands, but know I’d sign my own death warrant if anybody saw. And they’d all see. Instead, I wipe my clammy palms on the knees of my slacks and tell myself to relax. It’ll all be over soon.

There we are. At the store. I’m running out in her underwear. The audience bursts out laughing. I can’t help but smile, and a glance over at Dakota shows me she’s doing the same thing. That was fun.

Me eating those worms. Turns my stomach even now. Ugh. Then Dakota dancing and the horrified expression on my face. Fuck, somebody would have to be blind not to see how fucking jealous I was.

The restaurant. I want to go back there. I want to go with her, most importantly. They got us through the windows, plus a camera placed on one of the tables. Probably, another pair of diners, there to keep an eye on us.

The other restaurant. Whoops and whistles from the audience as Dakota describes her sexual needs. I shift in discomfort. Her mortified groan is all I need to hear to know how she feels about this. They had cameras mounted all over the damn restaurant. At least there’s comfort in knowing the manager was aware of something strange going on. I wish he would’ve clued me in.

The helicopter stunt. My pep talk. The jubilation on her face when she surfaced—and sweet Jesus—the relief on mine. Anybody could tell at first glance that I was already in love with the woman. I wish somebody had clued me in, because I didn’t understand until just now.

Last night. Scared to death, ducking security guards, singing to her. Holding her, kissing her. She looked so happy. No wonder the girls in the crowd thought we were for real. She looked so happy. I looked so happy.

Like we were for real.

I look over at her now. Her face doesn’t show any emotion, but her hands are clasped hard enough to turn her knuckles bone white. Is she thinking what I’m thinking?

The picture fades to black and the lights come back up, blinding me. The audience is enraptured, and the host looks like he might die of happiness. I don’t even remember his name. Chip? It’s as good as any other.

“All right, you crazy kids. Let’s get to the main event. Which one of you is going to go home with a check for one…million…dollars?”

Oohs and ahhs come from the audience, as if on cue. I want to tell them to stop acting like sheep, but something tells me this isn’t the time.

Chip-or-whatever-his-name-is turns to me. “Trent. You’ve impressed all of us with your determination—not to mention your fast thinking. The way you got around that first stunt was impressive. I have to admit, I wondered how the two of you would make it before you had your genius idea.”

“Careful.” I grin, turning on the charm. I signed on for it. It’s part of the job. “It might go to my head.”

He laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard. “Alright, then. I know you’re eager to find out about the last stunt we have in mind. Now, this stunt has already been voted upon by our studio audience.” He looks at Dakota, still seated on the other end of the couch. “Yours as well, Dakota. Only the two of you are unaware of what you’re in for.”

He signals with one hand, and I can just about make out the shape of a person standing in the front row of the audience—but the lights are too bright for me to see who it is, or if it’s a man or woman. I squint, waiting as the person to approach the set.

A girl. A beautiful girl. Tall, willowy, glossy dark hair, huge eyes the color of the sky at twilight. Exactly, the type of girl I would normally go for. She’s wearing a tight pair of jeans with a thin, tight tank top that shows off ample cleavage. The sort of cleavage a man wants to bury his face in and forget his troubles. If I met her at a bar or anyplace else before meeting Dakota, I’d have been on her in a heartbeat.

Chip smiles cloyingly. “Trent, this is Amanda.”

She gives me a little wave, wiggling her fingers while she chews her almost supernaturally full lips. Teasing, flirting.

“Your final stunt is much easier—and more enjoyable—than any of the ones you’ve completed thus far.” He waves for me to join them.

I stand slowly. My heart is thumping hard. Dakota’s eyes bore holes in the back of my head as I step up beside Amanda. I’m pretty sure I’d be able to hear a pin drop in the studio.

“Trent, your final stunt.” Chip takes a deep breath. “You have to make out with Amanda in full view of everybody here right now.”

I blink, waiting for more. “That’s it?” I ask, glancing at Amanda, before returning my gaze to him. I don’t dare look at Dakota. I can’t.

“That’s it,” he confirms, and his smile widens. I wouldn’t have been surprised if I saw fangs. He is a fucking leech.

Amanda smiles and nods slightly. Encouraging me. Even looking me up and down, appraising me, and I can tell she likes what she sees. Or she’s been paid well to pretend she does. No, she does. I’ve seen that look before, and no woman needs to be paid to act like she’s attracted to me. I know I’m fine. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told that, I wouldn’t need their dirty million.

All I have to do to earn a million dollars is make out with this gorgeous, willing woman. That’s it. It doesn’t even have to last long. It just has to look real.

Here goes nothing.