Page 72 of The Final Rose

For the first time, Callie moves. She takes her eyes off the tablet and her gaze ping-pongs from Anya to me.

“We can’t hide anything from anyone for a year. Paparazzi will be on top of you after the season, everyone will try to figure out if you’re still with the winner.”

Anya nods. “Right after the season is when the media is relentless. And you have the reunion to worry about too. People are invested. The first few months you won’t have a life. Not a private one.”

“I can say it didn’t work with the winner. I don’t need–”

“They will find out,” Callie says again. “They always do. And then it will be our pictures everywhere. Then there will be speculation. This... It’s not just my job.” She looks at me finally, her eyes swarming with tears. “My family will hear what people are saying. I will lose my job. I will never find a job in this town again. I can’t help my parents with the house, I…”

A tear falls and I squeeze my eyes shut. It's over.

There’s too much in the line for her and I’m giving her nothing concrete. I’m asking her to throw it all in the wind after just a week of sex.

In the grand scheme of things, it’s what it was. Months of longing and a week of sex.

“We were living on borrowed time,” Callie tells me. “I’m sorry, Sebastian.”

A beat of silence goes by. I can’t stop looking at her. And then Anya is talking like my heart isn’t breaking in front of her.

“The season will continue. You’ll choose Vera.”

I don’t care, but it’s Callie’s eyes that whip toward the woman, a questioning gaze.

“Screen tests say she’s the favorite.” Anya shrugs. “If it’s all the same to him, why don’t we give what people want?”

Callie nods, agreeing with the madness. To my surprise, she licks her lip and adds, “Get that porch space with the candles for their last date. It’s the most romantic of the locations.”

Anya nods. “I thought the same.”

I want to scream.

I don’t want to have dates with anyone but Callie. I need to shout at the absurdity of this conversation. To tell the world that reality shows are a sham. To just yell in fury to the wind.

I don’t do it, though. I stay there; I listen and agree with them because, after all, it’s not a sham.

I fell in love duringThe Final Rose.

But I shouldn’t have.

19.

Callie

My legs are stillsore from having Sebastian between them as I watch him dating other women. That keeps happening.

At some point, my mind turns itself off. I float outside of myself, and I just go about doing my job. Mechanically.

I’m not sure if I’m doing it well, but I can’t stop. If I stop, I fall.

Sebastian is having a date with his winner. No one knows she’s the winner yet, but I do. Vera is the fan favorite, and she once was mine too.

Now I hate it when she gets to sit beside him on the beautiful bench overlooking the luxurious swimming pool. I hate that she’s an absolute vision in pink and that the strawberry she popped into her mouth, I was the one who got to the table.

I feel dirty as I listen to their easy conversation. They get along great and even though Sebastian looked like he was close to losing it this morning, his facade is back in place.

He has media training, after all.

Everyone is trying to make them kiss. I know that much. I recognize the angles, the low lighting, the fact we have a reduced crew so they can feel alone.

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