Craig dodged a light stand, barely missing getting brained by a tripod in the process, and came to the realization that perhaps watching the crew set up the confessional in the spare bedroom of his Verona hotel suite wasn’t the safest place to wait for Miranda.
It was strange, being back in the world of swarming camera crews and exotic destinations. Marcy was due to meet him tomorrow for their two day overnight date. He’d overheard some of the crew talking and knew she would be on a train down from the Austrian Alps—which could only mean she was with Daniel there now. A fact he couldn’t seem to get out of his head.
Daniel got the Alps. Craig got the city of Romeo and Juliet—which he tried not to take as a commentary on the doomed nature of his relationship. The location had probably been scouted for Mark the Shakespeare scholar and they’d just kept it for convenience when Craig accidentally made it all the way to the finals.
From eavesdropping on the crew, he knew that Miranda was due any minute, so he hovered, hoping to catch her. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to her one-on-one since the hospital, so he didn’t have a clue what the state of his job offer was. She’d said it expired at the Elimination Ceremony and there hadn’t been one, so it had to still be on the table—at least that was what he was prepared to argue.
He’d decided—somewhere between hospital waiting rooms and the zillion hour flight to Venice—that he was going to take his mother’s advice. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too. There was no reason why he couldn’t have the dream job and Marcy.
Something had shifted in him on a tectonic level when Marcy had needed him. It hadn’t been all fun and games anymore. The cameras stopped rolling and life became real again. All too real. At the time he had just reacted, but now, when he thought back to why he hadn’t been able to leave her, he could only come up with two possible explanations: pity and love.
If anything happened to his mother, he would be a wreck—and he would face it completely alone. He didn’t have anyone who would stand by him then—so he had needed to stand by Marcy. Anyone would in that situation, wouldn’t they? It didn’t mean he loved her. Though he did feel for her. And lately those feelings had been different—seismic, tectonic shifts.
Perhaps it was an illusion, what he wasn’t quite ready to admit to himself he might be feeling. Their relationship had been all about different kinds of emotional stress—that could create a false positive in the love department, couldn’t it?
Of course it could.
But that didn’t stop him from thinking forward. Thinking about what his life could be like after the show. What it might be like with her.
They weren’t the picket fence type—even if she was from the world’s cutest small town. No. They would have an apartment. He would work television hours—early to bed, insanely early to rise if he was on a morning show. They’d be in LA or New York—bustling, active cities with a million things to do. He’d come home to her and when she was done spinning tales for the day, they would explore their new city together, finding their favorite restaurants, figuring out which bars had the best specials on hot wings during football games. He could see it and it was better because he was doing it with her.
Was that love? Maybe not yet. But it was an opportunity worth fighting for.
“Craig. Just the man I was looking for.”
Miranda’s crisp, direct voice brought him out of his lovesick musings. “Funny. I’ve been looking for you too.”
“Well, isn’t that convenient?” Her ubiquitous tablet was tucked under one arm. “Why don’t we go up to the roof? I’d like to check out the view for some possible establishing shots.”
“Sounds good.”
The luxury hotel where he’d been installed featured every modern luxury, but was housed in what had once been an eighteenth century palazzo, so the act of getting up to the roof took a convoluted route of narrow hallways and twisting staircases. He trailed after Miranda who seemed to know the way and was rewarded when she opened a final door onto the rooftop, revealing the stunning panorama of Verona sprawled around them.
The sun was bright and high, with only a few puffy white clouds providing an accent to the piercing blue of the sky. The breeze on the roof was cool enough to remind him that summer hadn’t started in earnest, but not so cold to send him running back inside.
Miranda strolled to the edge of the roof, craning her neck to take in every view, studying each one for the best shot.
“So you made it to the finals,” she said eventually, without turning to face him.
“Yeah, sorry about that. Not really according to your plan, was it? Or did you bring me up here to toss me off the edge and replace me with Darius or Mark?”
“They were easier to manage,” Miranda commented. She turned to face him, clasping her hands in front of her. “Didn’t you want the network job?”
“I couldn’t very well take myself off the show while Marcy’s dad was in the hospital—even if it wouldn’t have been a complete dick move, the cameras wouldn’t have seen it. If drama happens on a reality show but there’s no camera there to film it, does it still happen?”
“Cute,” she said dryly.
“Besides, you said I had until the Elimination Ceremony and there never was one. Marcy just got rid of Darius. So if I bailed on you, you’d only have one guy in the finals—where’s the suspense in that?”
“You’re right. I’m actually glad you stuck around.”
He frowned. “You just wanted to force me to defend myself?”
“I wanted to hear what you would say. Sounds like you still want the job.”
“Of course I do.”
Miranda studied him for a long moment, her short blond hair whipping against her forehead from the wind. Finally she nodded, coming to some unknown conclusion. “All right. New deal. The job is still on the table and it’s yours on two conditions. One—you can’t tell Marcy about it. I need you to play along, stay until the final choice, and be the perfect Suitor, but you can’t tell her why.”
It wasn’t bad, as conditions went. He could always tell her about the job later. She didn’t need to know about it before she made her choice. “Fine. And the second condition?”
“If she chooses you, in the end, you can only have the job if you turn her down.”
“What? Why?” Craig glowered. “You said before you needed me to leave so I didn’t get in the way of your perfect happy ending, but if she wants me to be her happy ending, why are you fucking with that?”
“The audience loves drama. They love choices. They know most of these relationships don’t work out, but they love seeing who picks what. Your choice has always been between love and money, Craig. You’ve made that very clear. So we’re going to have Pendleton film a sit down with you where he offers you the network job, but you can only have it if you ditch Marcy at the final pedestal. The home audience will see her choice and yours. Double the drama.”
“I’ve studied these shows. That isn’t how you do things. You’re supposed to be selling happiness and romance not forcing me to break her heart.”
“The shows are about ratings and what will get people talking around the water cooler the next day. They aren’t about being humane. They never have been. I got this job because I was willing to think outside the box. Jack picked a Suitorette last season who wasn’t even on the show. America got a heaping plate of love served to them last season. But every season is different. And this one seems to be about materialism and honesty. I wasn’t expecting that, but you work with what you have.”
“You want me to hurt her on national television?”
“Of course not. I just want you to choose for my cameras. The choice you make is up to you.”