Page 163 of Say Yes to the Nemesis
“Yes, you are.” Calla stands up and walks over to where Jennifer hung the garment bags. She unzips one and pulls out the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen. It’s a soft salmon pink, floor length, with full skirts and a delicate layer of hand-stitched flowers that take my breath away. It’s elegant and sophisticated and absolutely perfect.
“Where did this come from?” I breathe.
“Ryan had it made,” Jennifer says. “Custom fitted. He remembered your measurements from wardrobe fittings.”
I touch the fabric gently. It’s soft and expensive and clearly chosen with care. “Why would he do this?”
“Because he loves you, you idiot,” Calla says, but her voice is fond. “Because he’s been planning something, and he needs you there for it to work.”
“What if this is just another manipulation?” I ask. “What if I show up and he humiliates me all over again?”
Jennifer shrugs. “Then you’ll look incredible while flipping him off on camera.”
Despite everything, I crack a small smile. “Thanks. I think.”
“That’s the spirit.” Jennifer claps her hands together. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up. We have a lot of work to do.”
The next two hours pass in a blur. Jennifer works magic with concealer and foundation, hiding the evidence of my week-long breakdown. She does my eyes in soft, smoky colors that make them look bigger and brighter than they’ve ever looked. My hair gets styled into loose waves that fall over one shoulder, elegant but not trying too hard.
The dress fits perfectly. Better than perfectly, actually. It hugs my curves in all the right places and makes me look like someone who belongs at a finale taping. Someone who deserves to be there.
“Wren,” Calla says when I emerge from the bathroom fully dressed. “You look stunning.”
I catch sight of myself in the mirror and barely recognize the woman looking back at me. I look strong. Confident. Beautiful.
I look like someone Ryan Haart might actually choose.
“I don’t even look like myself. I look… like someone that expects to be chosen.”
Jennifer nods approvingly. “Trust me, you’re going to win.”
The limo ride to the mansion feels surreal. Jennifer comes with me, chattering about behind-the-scenes gossip and trying to keep me distracted, but my mind is racing. What is Ryan planning? What am I walking into?
As we get closer, doubt creeps back in. What if I’m wrong about this? What if Ryan really did just move on and this is some twisted consolation prize?
The mansion is all lights and cameras when we arrive. There’s a red carpet set up for the eliminated contestants. I can see photographers snapping pictures as women in evening gowns pose and smile.
I feel like I’m going to throw up.
“You’ve got this,” Jennifer whispers as we get out of the limo. “Remember, you look incredible. Hold your head up.”
I walk through the back hallway like I’m floating. Or maybe drowning. Everything feels distant and unreal. A few crew members nod at me, but mostly I’m invisible. Just another eliminated contestant coming back for the finale.
Hana appears at my elbow as I’m trying to find my seat. “I’m so glad you came,” she whispers, squeezing my hand.
“Yeah,” I manage. “Me too.”
The eliminated contestants are seated in a section off to the side of the main stage. I find my assigned seat and settle in, keeping my posture straight and my face carefully neutral. I’m not going to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart again.
The lights dim and the taping begins. Rich takes the stage with his usual polished enthusiasm, talking about love and second chances and the journey we’ve all been on. I barely listen. I’m too busy trying not to look at the stage where I know Ryan will appear any minute.
When he does, my heart stops.
He looks good. Too good. His hair is perfect, his suit is perfectly tailored. But there are shadows under his eyes that makeup couldn’t quite hide. A tension in his jaw that speaks to sleepless nights. He’s standing with his back straight, but I can see the way his hands are clenched at his sides.
He looks like a man who’s been through hell.
Our eyes meet across the room. I feel that familiar electric shock that always happens when he looks at me. But this time, there’s something different in his expression. Something desperate and determined and almost wild.
