Page 31 of Groomsman to Groom

“Tell me the problem and we’ll come up with a solution,” she says simply.

And so I do. About his message, his loneliness. About my crushing guilt for not being there when he needs me most. About how trapped I feel between contractual obligations and parental duty.

“I should never have done this show,” I say, head in my hands. “What was I thinking? That August would be fine without me for weeks on end? I’m his father—his only parent. He should come first. Always.”

Brielle is quiet for a long moment, thoughtful. “What would happen if you left? Contractually, I mean.”

“Financial penalties. Potential lawsuits. Public humiliation,” I list grimly. “And that’s just the professional consequences. Darren knows about us—about St. Sebastian. He’s made it clear he’ll use that information if I don’t play by his rules.”

Her face pales slightly, but she nods. “So leaving would blow up your life and potentially mine. Staying means August faces his grief alone.”

“Some choice, right?”

“What if there’s a third option?” she says slowly. Then she leans forward, eyes bright. “Invite August onto the show. Let him meet the women. Turn it into a father-son episode.”

I blink, stunned. “You mean… bring him here, right now?”

“Exactly. You get a beautiful reunion, the press eats it up, ratings spike. Darren can’t say no—he’d be a fool to turn down ratings gold.” She taps her script-stained notebook. “’Bachelor Bonds with Son in Tear Jerking Special.’ Trust me, the headline writes itself.”

Hope surges through me. “He’d see my dates, see me in my element. It makes my son part of my world instead of stealing me out of it.”

Brielle smiles, her messy bun bobbing. “And you’ll have every producer begging you for more. You’re not abandoning the show—you’re upgrading it. Plus, you get to keep your son by your side, even if only for a few days.”

I can’t stop the grin. “That’s… that’s genius. Of course you thought of it. No one spins a story like you do.” My chest tightens with gratitude. She’s a screenwriter, yes, but more than that: she sees every angle, every heartstring.

She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “We’re a team, right?”

“Penguins huddle together in the cold. You and me—same thing.”

She laughs. “You’re never letting me live that down.”

“Not a chance. And I absolutely loved it.”

“Fair enough. Now call production. Pitch this. They’ll eat it up.”

I nod, pulling her into one last quick hug. “Thank you—for this. For seeing me.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispers. Then she’s gone, and I’m alone with my phone and a spark of something I haven’t felt since arriving at the mansion: excitement.

I go to the landline I have in my room, which only allows me to call the production office or 911, and my finger hovers over the call button.

Before I press it, I’m filled with a clarity I haven’t felt since arriving at the mansion. Some choices define us—as parents, as partners, as people. This is one of them. Whatever happens next—whether Darren approves August’s emergency visit or whether I have to leave, break my contract, and face the consequences—I know one thing for certain: I won’t let my son grieve his mother alone. Not for fame, not for money, not even for the unexpected connections I’ve found with several of the women.

The line connects, and I take a deep breath, ready to fight for what matters most.

11

Enemies and Alliances

BRIELLE

It’s Friday, Lock & Key ceremony day, mid-morning, and I’m halfway through applying my mascara when Skye bursts into my bathroom like she owns the place—which isn’t far from the truth. Her Grammy-winning singer husband purchased and donated the mansion for the show. Her peacock-printed kimono flutters dramatically as she leans in, voice dropping. “Good news, Penguin Girl. Hayes pitched your brilliant plan to the execs, and they’ve green-lighted Operation August Arrival.” She grins, tapping her temple. “The boy visits for a special father-son episode. Ratings’ll go through the room, just like you said.”

My hand freezes mid-air, mascara wand dangerously close to poking my eye out. “They approved it? Already?”

“Honey, in this business, a genuinely heartwarming moment is the Holy Grail.” Skye perches on the edge of the bathtub, her kimono spreading around her. “Darren started salivating the second Hayes said ‘reunite with my son grieving his mother’s death.’ I’ve never seen contracts amended so fast.”

Relief floods through me. Hayes will get to be with August. I set down my mascara wand before I can accidentally give myself raccoon eyes from the emotion welling up.

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