“I’m going to stop being an asshole,” I say. “I need to fix this.”

“Good,” Oliver says, speaking for practically the first time this evening. He always has had a better gauge on when to shut up than I do. “Because I don’t want to get stuck matchmaking a grump. That’s something you Mayberrys are supposed to do.” He puts his arm around Harry as he says it—a silent acknowledgement that I did something else right. Maybe it’s time to make a habit of that.

“What do I do, guys?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

KENNEDY

The inn is beautiful—an old Victorian building, with crown molding and a tower bedroom for me, as if I’m truly a princess. It’s also decked out for Christmas, with a huge tree in the lobby and garland everywhere. One wall hosts an enormous hearth. The production team asked them to strip the decorations, and they replied that they’d already kicked everyone out to make room for us—the decorations were staying. Harry says they’ll cut them out in post-production.

It’s nice and cheerful, but I don’t feel the joy of it. My little tree was lost to the fire in Labelle Manor, and my heart is in tatters.

It’s Friday evening. We’re about to hold the Rolex ceremony, even though my one-on-one dates with both Colton and Jeff, which was supposed to take place this morning, were canceled because of my supposed stomach complaint and the fact that the entire house we were staying in was engulfed in flames. That kind of thing will create a delay or two, I guess. Honestly, I’m kind of surprised the show wasn’t canceled on the spot, but Harry tells me it’ll actually be fantastic for the story arc, and the producers are, and I quote, “excited” by the fiery destruction Jonah wrought on Labelle Manor.

This means I can finally cut him, right?

Admittedly, he was trying to makemecookies, but he nearly killed my boyfriend and my dog while doing it.

Rowan is most definitely not yours. He made his decision.

I smooth my hands over the front of my silky red dress, looking in the mirror, and I’m forcibly reminded of that first night, when Rowan slowly slid up my zipper. A production assistant did it tonight, and I just sent her on her way so I could have a few minutes alone.

I sigh and walk over to the bed, slumping onto the mattress. The stuffed pony Rowan got me sits against the pillow, and tears prick at my eyes. Both because I miss him and because the pony, however cuddly and adorable, is not much of a substitution for Jester. My baby is still at the emergency vet, but I’m told he’ll almost certainly pull through. He’ll be okay because of Rowan.

I’m tempted to use tonight’s ceremony to announce that I’m leaving the show, but I don’t have it in me to ruin things for the production assistants and producers, for Harry, and even for three-fourths of the remaining guys.

Jonah Highbury can go stuff it—and Maeve Mayberry with him. I’m sure she’s going to have some choice words for me tonight, what with the fire and the fact that I was caught sneaking out.

I glance at the door. If there’s someone waiting behind it, I can’t tell through the small strip at the bottom. I take a chance and reach under my pillow to grab the contraband phone Harry let me borrow. I don’t have to call my brother—he and Tina stopped by earlier and demanded to talk to me, and Zach slung around the perfect combination of threats and flattery to be allowed access to me. I assured them that both Jester and I were alive, thanks to Rowan, and they exchanged a significant glance that poked at my sore heart.

I dial up Olive, who answers on the first ring. “Kennedy?” she asks. “Tell me it’s you.”

“It’s me,” I say, feeling a rush of joy upon hearing her voice. “Boy, do I have a lot to tell you.”

“Good,” she says. “Tell me everything. Spoiler alert—they’re going to ship me out there next week to hang out with you on Christmas Eve. My mama too.”

I want them herenow. I want them here yesterday. “Oh, thank God,” I say, and I tell her everything. Everything.

“Holy shit,” she says when I’ve finished. “That’s gonna be some show.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, but I can’t muster any excitement right now, not even for her.

“I look forward to meeting him.”

“Who?” I ask, surprised, mostly because I haven’t made much of a case for Jonah, Marcus, Jeff,orColton. I could understand why she’d want to meet them, from a morbid curiosity viewpoint, but there’s actual excitement in her voice.

“Rowan, obviously.”

“I don’t know if you will meet him.” My heart sinks at the thought because I like thinking of the three of us hanging out. Olive would give him grief for being such a grump, and he’d give it right back. Nanny Rose would be there, of course, and knowing her, she’d insist on cooking for all of us even though the show has chefs on staff.

“Oh, I will,” Olive says knowingly. “I can tell.”

My heart tries to buoy up from the mire in which it has sunk, but I don’t want to let myself hope. I used to think there was nothing bad about hope—only an upside—but hope can be dangerous. It can lead to the kind of disappointment it’s hard to bounce back from.

“He doesn’t want to be dragged into any of this,” I say.

“We’ll see,” she says knowingly, and I’d be annoyed with her if she weren’t saying something I’m desperate to believe. “I’ll see you soon, Kennedy. It’s almost over. We’re gonna get crunked when you’re finally finished shooting. And we’re still going to watch half a dozen Christmas movies. I don’t care if that’s almost over too.”