Page 76 of Groomsman to Groom

“To honesty,” Annabelle says quietly, her voice thick with emotion. Her eyes lock with mine, and I see knowledge there, a perception that cuts through the performance.

We clink glasses. I take a sip and force a smile for the cameras that circle us like predators.

“Hayes,” Serena steps forward. “I’m looking forward to next week. I think you’ll understand me better when it’s just you and me.” She sounds like she’s reading from a script.

But I nod, trying to look engaged. “I’m excited for that.”

“I can’t wait for a whole day and night together,” Luna chimes in, her genuine enthusiasm showing.

Annabelle hangs back, her expression thoughtful as she watches the other two compete for my attention. When our eyes meet again, she gives me a small, sad smile that conveys she knows exactly what just happened with Brielle. “If y’all don’t mind,” she says, cutting through Luna’s monologue about the amazing beach her family took me to in Miami, “I’m gonna call it a night.”

Before I can respond, Skye appears like a whirlwind of color, her face twisted in concern. “Hayes, can I borrow you for a little bit?” She jabs a thumb to the hallway, the tiny origami birds in her hair bobbing with the movement.

Her words are soft, but her look is hard.

“Of course.” I step forward. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

I follow Skye through the maze of corridors, taking me through a service entrance, down an utility hallway I didn’t know existed, and into what looks like a storage room. She clearly wants this to be private.

The moment the door closes behind us, she says, “What the hell happened?”

“Darren happened.” I drop into a folding chair. “He gave me an ultimatum. Either I eliminate Brielle tonight, or they air all the footage of Luna’s accusations, including that beach photo proving that Brielle and I had a pre-show relationship.”

“Oh, fuck a duck.” Skye’s eyes bulge. Then she paces the small room, her flowing dress swirling around her ankles. “He’d only bury the footage if the other women advance so he’s not hurting his precious ratings.”

“Exactly.” I run a hand through my hair. “Brielle’s a screenwriter. Her professional reputation—”

“Would be finished,” Skye finishes, understanding dawning on her face. “So you eliminated her to protect her.”

“And August.” My voice catches on my son’s name. “He doesn’t need to see his father portrayed as some kind of playboy who rigged a dating show.”

Skye stops pacing and sits across from me, her expression uncharacteristically serious. “Did you give any hint to Brielle of what was really going on?”

“No, Darren said I couldn’t.”

“So you shattered her heart, and now you have to pretend to fall in love with one of these other women.”

The stark reality of my situation, laid out so plainly, makes me drop my head into my hands. “What am I supposed to do? It’s fantasy suites next week.” The thought makes me physically ill.

Skye is quiet for a long moment, her fingers tapping thoughtfully against her knee. “Maybe there’s a third option we’re not seeing.”

Hope flickers. “Like what?”

“I don’t know.Yet,” she says. “Give me some time to think. In the meantime, you need to play along. Go through the motions with the remaining women. Don’t give Darren any reason to suspect you’re planning to deviate from the script.”

“And Brielle?”

Skye’s expression softens with genuine sympathy. “You can’t contact her—Darren would find out, and then all bets are off.”

The thought of Brielle believing I discarded her so easily is almost physically painful. “There has to be something I can do.”

“There is,” Skye says firmly. “Trust me to find a way out of this mess while you keep Darren happy.” She reaches across to squeeze my hand. “Can you do that? Can you act your ass off for a little while?”

Before I can answer, the door swings open. Darren enters without knocking, his eyes cold as ice.

“There you are,” he says, sounding relieved but looking suspicious. “We need those confessionals, Hayes. The crew’s waiting.”

Skye rises smoothly, her cosmic earth mother persona sliding back into place like a well-worn costume. “Sorry to hijack your star, boss,” she tells Darren with a breezy wave. “Just needed a quick pep talk after that emotional elimination. Our boy was feeling a bit wobbly.”

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