Page 17 of House of Desire

While Leslie seems to love her family’s horses, I don’t get the impression they are anything more than an accessory to her.

My empty water glass saves me and I excuse myself from the conversation, moving to the bar.

“Can I get a rum and coke?” a blue-haired girl asks the bartender. “It’s shocking to me they don’t have food at this little shindig. I’m Zoey,” she says to me.

“Anastasia, but you can call me Anya. I agree about the food. I am starving. I would kill for a chicken fried steak and some mashed potatoes and gravy right now.”

She takes a sip of her drink while I gulp down my water, sure I’m dehydrated at this point.

“That sounds delicious. Is that your favorite meal?”

“Just what I’m craving right now. I’ve been eating healthier the past few weeks in preparation for this, and I started dreaming about everything being smothered in gravy.”

“That sounds like a very sexual dream.”

I laugh, genuinely enjoying this woman. “It definitely was.”

“Anastasia,” a member of production calls, reading off a list on their clipboard.

“Yes?” I say, turning toward them.

“You’re up,” they say and move on with no care to the bomb of nerves that just exploded in my stomach.

Meeting twenty women coming out of the limos has been overwhelming to say the least. A member of production let me know they would have cards for me with each girl on them and a few facts so I can work on memorizing everyone in these first few days.

The only one I don’t need a card on is Anastasia, the one who ended up in a heap at my feet. I’d be lying if I said her rejection at being the first person I talked to didn’t sting, but thankfully, I was able to pivot to Mary Ella, the familiar face a welcome respite from the endless parade of strangers.

She leads the way through the Tuscan inspired house and through the sliding back doors to the patio.

“How ya doin’?” she asks, her twang just as strong as it was three years ago. “This must be extremely overwhelming for you.”

I smile at the girl, appreciative she’s not looking at me like a bull on auction.

“It’s pretty intense, but I’m sure everything will be fine,” I tell her, my eyes flitting to the camera man across the patio. “I’m lucky to be here.”

She takes her sash off, and settles onto the couch like we are two old friends catching up. Taking a sip from her wineglass, she looks at the backyard. The twinkling lights remind me of the finale at House of Deceit.

“What have you been up to since we left the house?” I ask Mary Ella, a small piece of guilt breaking off and floating along inside me, infecting me with the feeling. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch.”

She waves away my apology. “Don’t think anything of it. I know you’ve been busy. Charlie and I email,” she tells me. “I won Miss Alabama, as you know. I’ve tried dating, but it didn’t work out for me. Other than that, I just graduated my master’s program and now I’m doing my clinical hours. I’m hoping to become a therapist.”

Her entire face lights up, passion seeping from every pore as she talks about her plans. The girl who was fresh faced and new during House of Deceit now has an aura of peace around her that wasn’t there before. She’s radiant in her happiness.

“That’s amazing,” I say, knowing she’ll be able to do wonderful things for her clients. “Mary Ella—” I start but she cuts me off.

“Parker, it’s okay. I know you’re going to send me home tonight. I was so excited when they announced you were going to be the lead, but I knew that would be the end of my time on the show. You know, I actually considered pulling out so one of the alternates would have a chance, but I wanted to see you.” Her smile is small but warm. “But I also wanted to give you a friendly face. Someone who is here just because you’re,”—she takes me in for a second—“well, you’re you. Not because they are fighting to win a show.”

Her words are the sun on my sno-cone of a heart, melting me in her warmth. I didn’t deserve to have Mary Ella here. She deserves someone who will see all she is instead of a pseudo little sister. I just can’t be that guy for her. No matter how much I know having her in my life would make me a better person.

“If they aren’t completely dumb, they’ll let you have your own season. They’d have to beat all the men off with a stick,” I say.

Her laughter is like a tinkle of bells and as she lays her hand on my forearm, I feel nothing but the warmth of her skin.

Heels clack against the pavement and I know our time is coming to a close. Grabbing her hand, I pull her to standing, wrapping Mary Ella in a hug. She grips me, tighter than I’d expect, before pulling back.

“Good luck, Parker,” she says, giving me a gentle kiss on the cheek.

“You too, Mary Ella,” I say, the next woman stopping right outside of my peripheral vision, but I can feel her there.

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