Page 36 of House of Desire

I do as he tells me. The sun is heating me up, and I’m wondering why we can’t have a normal type of date. With the sound of an air horn rending the air in two, the women come running out from the tunnel and everyone is dressed in white. Which is weird. Until they get closer to me. Wedding dresses. All four of them are in wedding dresses.

And without warning, I’m back to watching Brittany walk down the aisle toward me in her grandmother’s vintage wedding dress. She looked so happy and I loved her so much, but it didn’t keep my heart from racing. My hand unconsciously rubs my sternum, trying to calm my body down, but it’s not working. After months of sessions, I admitted to Sharon this would happen every once in a blue moon. She suggested putting an ice pack directly on my chest, calming my nerves down and giving my brain something to focus on when it was more intense. But I don’t really think saying “Hey, I’m mid-panic attack. Can I get some ice?” would be very effective.

“Hi, ladies. In today’s challenge for a one-on-one date and a chance to fan the flames of our desire, you will be running a pacer test. This sound”—I pause until the loud, high-pitched tone sounds around the stadium—“will tell you to go. You will run ten yards. For everyone who hasn’t crossed the line before the sound emits again, you’ll be eliminated. The pauses between beats will get shorter and shorter until, finally, one of you is the winner. Any questions?” It all comes out stilted and monotone as I just try to hold on and get through this circus.

They all tell me no, or so I assume as their voices are just indistinct sounds at this point. Anya pauses for a second, her eyes searching my face as I fight to breathe. Her eyebrows slant over her eyes.

“Are you okay?” she mouths and I nod minutely. She stands there for a second more and all I can do is hope she moves to the competition.

The last thing I want to do is call production’s attention to me. Thankfully, she turns and moves to the line with the other girls. With the first tone, they are off.

They run back and forth. Back and forth. My heartbeat steadies as woman after woman end up on the sidelines waiting for the competition to end.

By the time Anya is crowned the winner, her face is red and sweaty, but the smile she gives me banishes the last of the panic and a fluttering of excitement takes its place.

The art museum is metal and too modern outside for the warmth and beauty of the art inside. Anastasia moves around the room, looking at various paintings. Some she merely gives a glance, but others she’ll stand at for longer. We stood at one called The Whispering Forest for almost half an hour. The forest gave off an enchanted feeling but with a hidden undercurrent of danger. Like there might be monsters and it would depend on the person venturing into the depths of the trees on if they were dangerous.

But I don’t mind. I’m just happy she won us some much-needed alone time. Or as alone as we can be during filming a show like this. Production is giving us space, filming from further back. But the mics mean it’s just a facade.

“Do you like art?” she asks, moving onto a picture showing a scene from an 1800s picnic.

“I like art, but I don’t really come to museums or anything. I couldn’t tell you about influences or brush strokes or color composition. Just if I like it or not.”

“Sometimes I think it’s better to enjoy things than critique them.” She takes in a painting, but all I can do is take in her.

“Do you go to museums often?” I ask.

“No. I don’t have a lot of free time. The bakery takes up pretty much every minute.”

“Is it everything you want it to be?”

She doesn’t look at me, but I can see the edge of a smile.

“Yes and no. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. So many people say ‘Do what you love and you’ll never work a day’ but every day I’ve worked doing this has been the hardest I’ve worked in my entire life. And some days, having to create on a deadline and to someone else’s vision can suck the fun out of it for me. But to follow a dream? I wouldn’t give it up for anything.”

“That’s how I feel about my company, too. It’s nice to have someone understand the demands of being a business owner.”

“What do you think they are talking about?” she says, indicating the painting we are standing next to.

“Oh, that’s easy. This guy here”—I point to the painting, playing along—“the one in the top hat? He’s telling her about dirigibles and how they are going to change the way people travel.”

“Do you think that’s why she’s rolling her eyes?”

“Oh, absolutely.” I move closer to the painting and clear my throat. Raising my voice an octave, I make up the painting’s dialogue. “Victor, I told you already, I’m part of the team that invented them.”

Snickering, she moves closer. With a dropped voice, she joins in on the fun. “But Martha, you don’t understand. We would be able to fly thirty miles in an hour!”

“I wish you would fly thirty miles away from me and never come back. Maybe then my ‘best friend’ Sally can move in.”

“Well, I’m sure the stable boy would really miss me.”

“Scandal!”

She giggles and the sound is perfect. I needed this. Despite the panic seeing the women in wedding dresses gave me earlier, this is easy. Simple. Pressure free, in spite of the cameras.

“Anastasia, I—”

“Anya, please. Anastasia makes me feel like I’m about to be grounded or something.”

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