As I am just about to tell him no, the automatic doors open and the noise of the paparazzi, together with the non-stop flashing, halts my original plan. They were watching, taking photos of this moment. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid. Looking like a fool to the world.
I look at them one more time, then to Wes. His crooked smile soon follows, taking a step forward, wrapping his arm around my waist. With the bright lights hurting my eyes like they always had, Wes leans in and plants a kiss on the side of my neck.
“You’re still my fiancée. Whether you like it or not.”
The change of tone, grit in his voice, left me feeling unsettled. I tried my best to walk away but was told I had no choice. Forced to live with a man I no longer respected. A man who broke me.
A man who made it his mission to make me as miserable as possible.
And the icing on the fucked-up cake . . . The whole world would watch him do just that.
“It’s the little things that can make you happy.
Sometimes those little things can turn out into something greater.”
~ Emerson Chase
Several weeks passed since that meeting.
A day that cemented the truth: my life did not belong to me. I had no option but to keep myself busy: photoshoots, interviews, and drinking whenever we were out at social gatherings. Twitter was buzzing with some story calling me an alcoholic trainwreck. It happened to be a coincidence that every photo snapped of me was with a glass of wine in hand. After that broke loose, I made a note to stay clear of drinking in public. The network executives didn’t want my squeaky-clean image to ruin the show.
Yet Wes could fuck two hookers.
There was one thing I made clear to Wesley—we were over. The betrayal didn’t erase because we were told to continue the show. When the cameras were on, we acted as if nothing happened, but as soon as they left, he slept in the spare room and knew not to go anywhere near me. I had to give it to him, he tried his best to apologize through romantic dinners and roses being brought home. I just wasn’t interested. At least, in my eyes, the love had diminished to the point that I didn’t see a future with him.
I had isolated myself from everyone. I was glad that everyone else’s lives were so busy that it was convenient for me. Mom had wrapped up her book and went into stress mode as she always does when it sits in the hands of her editor. Her coping mechanism is baking, which is great if you’re in the same house. Instead, she would send me pics which only depressed me even further.
Ash and Logan were back to training in England—preparing for the semi-finals in a few weeks. I knew not to bother either of them. When in game mode, nothing else mattered. I did, however, find a friendship with Alessandra. We talked regularly about life, work, and the pits of living with Ash. He was and still is—a slob.
I had spent the day shooting an interview for our new workout clothing line when Cliff called asking me and Wesley to film in the apartment tonight. They had done some edits but needed more footage of us discussing our wedding. I dreaded filming this; a topic I had wanted to stay clear of considering I had no intention of marrying him.
Our makeup artist, Reba, hovers over me with her brush, touching up just under my eyes. Our regular camera crew, Karl and Josie, stand in position as we sit on the white sofa.
“I can’t wait to make you my wife.” Wes grins, tracing the tip of my ring that still sits on my finger.
“I guess we should start planning the wedding?” I manage to say with a smile present, mentally aware that my body language needed to be relaxed and not tense.
“I’m thinking Paris. Winter. Just like when I proposed.”
“That sounds beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
Wesley tilts his head and moves his body in, placing his lips on mine. He knew it was the only way to touch me, and so I allowed it, kissing him back as if I wanted him. As if he was good and pure, never breaking my heart.
Every time we filmed over the past few weeks, he would touch me as much as possible. I knew very well he wanted more and he wasn’t shy in telling me that. I just couldn’t do it. It’s almost like I would be letting my inner woman down. There had been one occasion where I almost caved. He looked handsome that night and said the right words. I hadn’t had any sexual activity since that night in the lake. What stopped me was the way his eyes had wandered mid-conversation to another woman walking past in a tight red dress.
Game over, loser.
“I’m so lucky to have you. Don’t you think it’s fate? Us being on this show and falling in love?” He waits for my response, and because this conversation is scripted and not reality, I try to remember my lines as best as I can.
“I do think it’s fate. And one day our kids will watch this show and see how we fell in love.” I bite my tongue immediately after, tasting the nasty blood in my mouth.
Before the conversation can continue, my cell dances across the coffee table. Karl motions for me to pick it up, continuing to roll the camera.
“Hey sis!” Ash’s loud cheer barrels through the speaker, and I couldn’t be happier to see his face even if we were being filmed. Cliff always preferred video calls rather than regular calls. Apparently, the audience responded well to this.
“Good news?”