Page 27 of Lost Without You

Finally, she said, “This is a lot to process. I... I can’t... I need...”

“I understand.” I let go of her face, even though my gut was yelling at me to kiss her and make her understand. Get her on the same page.

But I couldn’t do that to her.

I could see the panic in her eyes, even though I told her essentially what she’d told me. It was more than clear that she was supposed to be mine, and I was supposed to be hers, but those damn fears of hers...

Hell, I’d be lucky if she even heard half of what I said, with the way her anxieties tended to block things.

Before I could come up with anything that I could do, the factory-installed ringing on my phone broke through the thick silence.

“Saved by the bell,” Savannah tried to joke, but it was forced. Just like my answering smile.

I turned to pick up my phone from the counter, seeing the saved number pop up.

It was the show.

“I’ve got to take this,” I apologized but she just shook her head and stepped away, back toward the bed.

“Hello?” I answered, leaning back into the counter but watching Savannah move. She went to her backpack and pulled out clothes, tossing them on the end of the bed.

“Hey, Ryan. This is Tony. We’ve had to make some adjustments to the finale.” Savannah rezipped her backpack and picked up her clothes, avoiding looking in my direction as she made her way back to the bathroom. I heard the door click and soon after, the shower turned on. “We’re told we have to shut down production because of this virus. All the companies are doing it, and we’re a day behind them. So, what we’re going to do is a live stream in place of the finale. We’d prefer it if you did it with Bella, but with California on the verge of public lock down—and let’s be honest, New York is probably only a day or two behind California—she said she won’t travel to you. There may be necessary quarantining for you too, if you travel out of California, which would mean you wouldn’t be able to do it with her anyway. It’s just a fucking mess.”

Tony wasn’t the most eloquent with his words. How he managed to produce so many of these dating shows was beyond me.

“The final episode is airing on Monday, and we want to go live with you and Bella directly afterward. We’ll be sending you specifics here shortly, but if you need to increase your internet package, you need to do it before then. Oh, and I’ll be sending you over the last show, so you can prepare for the finale. We’ll be going live before the show airs in California.”

“Sounds good,” I mumbled, my eyes still fixed on the bathroom door.

“You can still fix how you ended the show.”

Yeah. Not happening. “Sounds good,” I repeated, knowing that nothing I said would matter to him.

Rumor had it, he tried the same thing on an earlier show he produced, one with one of the regulars at O’Gallagher’s, Caleb Prescott, who also happened to coach the local NHL team.

Caleb’s show, Beauty, was like The Rose, but instead of regular—or, mostly regular, because Bella was an actress—people, the bachelor or bachelorette was an athlete. It only aired for three seasons and none of the on-show pairings worked out (Caleb and his wife were an odd sort of exception, because Sydney didn’t win, but Caleb didn’t exactly vote her off either), but Tony immediately put together The Rose afterward, and in seventeen years, became the top rated dating show.

Seventeen years, thirty-four pairings from two seasons a year, ten marriages, eight kids, and now, thanks to me, one “no.”

“Bella is open to working things out,” Tony continued pushing.

“I’ve got to go, Tony. Thank you. I look forward to your email and talking on Monday.” Before he could go on even more, I ended the phone call, and tossed the device on the counter, where it slid a good two feet.

Turning to my breakfast, I quickly ate my now cold eggs, but I couldn’t stop hearing Savannah’s words.

How they went from quiet and unsure, to strong and needing to know.

Then, back to that unsure, unsettled tone again.

I gave her my words.

I gave her my feelings.

I didn’t know what else I could do, other than give her time.

And hope like hell that she’d trust me.

Once my eggs were done, I went to the fireplace and started a new fire. The cabin was starting to get chilled and looking out the window, I realized it was because it had started to snow.

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