Page 39 of The Love Rematch
She deserves someone whose actions aren’t meant to cut her down, the way Tony’s have been. She deserves someone who wants to bolster her up, the way Jake once had before the world turned upside down. Emily meant what she said in her speech that first night. She’d rather be alone than settle for someone who makes her feel inadequate. Her own doubts and insecurities do enough of that already. They don’t need the help.
Needless to say, Tony doesn’t get a puzzle piece at the end of the date. He gets a goodbye handshake, and he’s lucky it’s not a goodbye kick in the groin.
“Will the viewers think I’m a shrew?” Emily asks Nina as Tony disappears inside his car.
“No.”
The earnestness in the response makes Emily turn toward Nina curiously. The producer drops her headphones to her shoulders, disconnecting as much as she can. She’s wearing her typical motorcycle boots and a leather jacket despite the heat. The two of them next to each other look as opposite as opposite can be, yet for the first time since coming to California, Emily feels seen, feels understood.
“You’re underestimating the viewers,” Nina says, stepping closer. “You were a fan before you were the lead. Would you have seen through Tony? The camera picks up more than you know, and I promise you, I don’t miss a thing. He was a jerk. You saw it. I saw it. They’ll see it too.”
“You think so?”
“I do, because you know what makes the love story on our show so satisfying to watch?”
“What?”
“The journey. Every viewer has been in your shoes. Maybe not dating thirty men on live TV, but on a bad date with an asshole who didn’t treat them right. Some frogs are just frogs. But you still have to kiss them to find the prince. And when you find your prince, which you will, because there are some great guys here too, you’ll give everyone watching hope that they’ll find their match too. That’s the power of our show. The hope.”
Hope, Emily thinks.
Maybe that’s what she’s been missing. Maybe that’s why she can’t leave Jake in the past where he belongs, why even on her Jake-free day, his ghost is somehow here, haunting her. She hasn’t felt truly hopeful in seven years, and maybe that’s what she misses more than anything else—that feeling of running toward something instead of running away.
Hope.
Emily latches on to the word, repeating it like a mantra until it’s so big it shoves Kevin and Tony and even Jake away. She has one date left to salvage the day, and it’s time to try something new.
Hope.
When they arrive at the helipad, Ethan is waiting in a black tuxedo, bouncing eagerly on his toes. His green eyes are bright. And as she steps out of her limo, a somewhat immodest amount of leg flashing as the thigh-high slit in her evergreen gown falls open, a boyish grin brings out his dimples.
Henry Cavill and Colin Farrell’s love child was right, Emily thinks, Nina’s description from the first night coming to mind.Here goes nothing.
She waves a bit shyly. He takes her hand and sweeps her into a dramatic spin, the skirt of her dress flaring around her ankles. Somehow she ends up pressed against his chest, two big hands resting on her hips, the weight not unwelcome. He leans down, bringing his lips to her ear.
“You look amazing.”
It’s exactly the right thing to say and exactly the right way to say it—charming, magnetic, irresistible. His stunt from the first night comes to mind—the spill from the limo and subsequentGotcha!followed by another whispered confession,And I plan to keep you.
He’s smooth.
Too smooth.
Not-here-for-the-right-reasons smooth.
It’s aLove Matchred flag, she knows. One wrong step and she’ll be on a slip-and-slide to heartbreak. Normally she wouldn’t dare trust his antics.
But tonight, she wants to hope.
She wants to believe.
So instead of pulling back and refortifying her walls, instead of guarding her heart, Emily lifts onto her toes and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, then whispers, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
They load into the helicopter, and she takes one of his hands in both of hers. The door sweeps closed, and they share a grin. She leaves her caution on the launchpad as they soar. The wind and the romance and the magnanimity of the show carry her away. When else will she get a private sunset helicopter ride over Los Angeles? When else will she be serenaded by a string quartet as a handsome man twirls her in circles, the dance floor surrounded by a thousand burning candles? When else will she get a private dinner for two outside the Griffith Observatory, the city skyline twinkling like stars brought down to earth as the moon shines overhead?
Never.
This is the stuff of Hollywood magic, and she’s determined to enjoy it, even though the cameras are rolling, the food set before them is cold, and none of it feels quite real. As they settle into their seats, they finally dig into the meat of the date—not the meal, which unlike the wine is there as a prop and not for actual consumption, but the conversation. They move beyond the romantic montage set to music. As a fan, she knows it’s time for thedeep reveal, in which one of them will confess their tragic backstory, leaving the viewers swooning.
