Page 2 of Hold Me Today

Joe’s knees pop as he snatches the ring off the floor and shoves it back into the box. With a speed I don’t anticipate, he crams the whole thing into the pocket of my shorts and comes mighty damn close to fondling the family jewels.

Full confessional: there’s not much wriggle room in these things.

I arc my ass backward, away from his wandering hands.“Jesus!What the hell are you doing, man?”

“Earning myself a damn paycheck.” He jabs an accusatory finger in my face. “You’re going out there with this fuckin’ ring, Stamos, you hear me? You’re gonna get down on one knee and we’ll let Savannah know before filming rolls that you want out. She’ll do the dumping, not you.”

My jaw drops without ceremony. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I told you yesterday that I wanted to talk to her without the cameras. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s a great girl—”

“But she’s not the onefor you.” Joe rolls his eyes and twiddles his fingers in the air like a complete asshat. “Yada, yada, yada. I’ve heard this shit before when I was working with Chris-fuckin’-Harrison onThe Bachelor. You think this is my first rodeo? No, Mr. Adonis, it’s not. We’re doing this myway since it’s my goddamn show. Andmyway is letting Savannah land the proverbial kick to your balls.Capiche?”

“No fuckingcapiche.”

Savannah isn’t any more in love with me than I am with her, if the few lackluster kisses we’ve shared are anything to go by. And that was all before we unanimously agreed to skip the overnight date last week. The way I look at it, that decision hammered the final nail in our coffin. I’m no virgin, and she isn’t either, which leads to only one conclusion: neither of us are feeling the chemistry.

It’s disappointing, yeah, considering I showed up at thePut A Ring On Ithouse with big hopes of leaving with the love of my life. Sure, I only ended uponthe show because Effie was convinced that I was failing—epically—in the dating department on my own. She wasn’t wrong, much as it grates me to admit it. I have a bad habit of choosing women who, in the end, don’t choose me back. And maybe there’s something to be said for letting someone else play matchmaker for once. Clearly, I haven’t been doing myself any favors since Brynn stormed out of that church.

After I pulled my head out of my ass (and my sister chewed me out for being a stick in the mud), I gradually warmed up to the idea of meeting a woman I never would have crossed paths with in my routine, day-to-day life in New England.

Hello, my name is Nick Stamos and I’m a closet romantic.

Sue me.

End of the day: it didn’t work out. But that doesn’t mean I’m keen on ending the relationship with lies tripping off the tongue. My mom taught me better. My dad taught me better.

And, yet, ten minutes later I find myself being led, like a lamb to the slaughter, down to the beach. I spot Savannah Rose immediately—it’s hard not to. With her caramel skin, thanks to her Creole heritage, and her rich, dark hair, Savannah is a show-stopper. Tall and willowy, she dropped jaws throughout filming, whether it was when she stepped out in a dress for a night out on the town or put on a bikini while relaxing on the beach. She’s serenity personified, rarely raising her voice, though I’d have to be an idiot not to notice that her spine is laced with steel.

Like I said, the two of us are peas in a pod. Reserved. Sometimes shy. But with unwavering backbone—being taken advantage of isn’t a concern.

My molars grind together as Joe waves me forward from where he sits beside the camera crew. They’re camped out between two sky-high palm trees, as though the rotund barks are wide enough to provide some sort of coverage and conceal them from sight.

To provide us with the illusion of privacy.

My hands clench at my sides.

Do the right thing, I shout at myself.Get down there and do the right thing.

I’m not a bad guy. Hell, I’ve always been thegood guy, if I’m being real honest about it. The guy mothers love. The one they have no qualms about their daughters spending time with because, “that Nick, he’s justsucha nice person.”

I don’t feel all that nice right now.

Don’t feel all that good either.

My bare feet sink into the warm sand as I come to a stop before Savannah. She peers up at me through long, spiky lashes. I hold onto her dark gaze, trying to get a read on her. Has Joe told her a damn thing? Has he relayed the message that I need to tell her myself—that I don’t love her the way she deserves to be loved?

That I can’t propose forever with her, let alone the rest of today?

Her pink, glossy lips curl in greeting, offering a shy smile that sucker punches me in the gut.

She doesn’t know. No way in hell would she smile at me like that—or atall—if she knew how I really feel.

Ah,fuck.

I slide a quick glance over to Joe, who keeps his attention locked on the monitor set up before him.

He wants his good TV. It’s his job, and I get that too.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll willingly ruin mine and Savannah Rose’s lives to pacify the public’s demand for cheap shots and trashy entertainment.

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