Don’t babe me, I almost snap. “You said I should watch out for Caleb and Gerard, that they were only using me to boost their social media following. I think you meant yourself.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He holds up both hands, palms out. “You’re way off base.”
“Am I?” I set down the spatula I’m holding and turn to him, hands on hips. “Caleb doesn’t even have any social media accounts, and Gerard barely uses his. They don’t care who’s watching them on TV.”
Johnny shrugs. “I didn’t say they were social media kings; I just said you should watch out for them.”
“What about you?” I challenge. “I bet you have a big online presence.”
“Sure.” There’s not a hint of apology in his tone. “Got my own clothing line. This shirt I’m wearing is one I designed.”
“That’s why you didn’t want to wear an apron.”
He smirks. “I gotta promote it; that’s how it works.”
One of the cameras swings around, and Johnny adjusts his position slightly, angling himself to take advantage. Now that I’m looking for it, it’s obvious. I’m more furious than ever that he’s been faking it this whole time.
I’m done with him, and I’m done with his charade. I want to cut right through to the truth, and I bet I know an easy way to do it.
“So, Johnny.” I give him a fake-sugary smile and lean ever so slightly toward him. “How do you feel about marriage?”
His expression turns horrified. The producers can edit it out later, but they’ve seen it, and so have I. Johnny can’t pretend anymore.
“We were supposed to have dinner together later, but I’m tired of you wasting my time. I want you to leave.”
His mouth drops open. He’s genuinely shocked, which just proves that he’s only been about himself this whole time. If he’d been paying attention to me at all for the last hour, he would have seen this coming a mile away.
“Babe,” he stammers. “You don’t mean that.”
“I absolutely do.” I keep talking over his sputtered protests. “I came on this show to find something real, and I’ve been honest with every single man, you included. I deserve better than someone who doesn’t care about me at all.”
His eyes go hard, his mouth flattening. “I never should have wasted my time with you. You weren’t worth it.”
Even though I know he’s full of it, the insult stings. Before I can retort, Johny storms out of the bakery and Natalie swoops in. “Follow him,” she tells the camera crew, then turns on me.
“I would have appreciated a heads up that you were going to dump him.”
I don’t care that she’s mad, but there’s no point antagonizing her further. “I suspected I was going to be sending him home, but I wasn’t certain until his behavior here at the bakery confirmed that I’d made the right decision.”
Natalie sighs. “We’ll probably have a lot of unhappy viewers … but it still makes for great TV.”
Back at the house, I can’t sleep. I’m too worked up to even try. I pace the floor, replaying the events at the bakery.
I’m still irritated at Johnny and the necessity of confronting him, even while I’m proud of myself for handling the situation. Are there more Johnnys among the men that I haven’t detected? I thought I was doing so well in evaluating them, but maybe my instincts aren’t as good as I believed.
They certainly weren’t good enough to protect me from Johnny. If not for my stupid bad-boy addiction, his act wouldn’t have fooled me. Why do I gravitate toward men who look good but don’t treat me well?
What I said to Johnny about deserving better wasn’t only, or even mostly, for the cameras. I do want to be with someone who cares about me. I hope I can recognize him, and forge a connection when I do.
The producers don’t want me leaving the house, but I need to clear my mind. I decide a brisk walk is needed. I go to the front door and am putting my shoes on when I hear footsteps. The next moment, there’s a knock on the door.
My stomach is instantly in knots. Has Johnny turned up for a repeat performance? I’ve seen it happen on previous seasons. Wary, I open the door a crack.
It’s Xavier.
My mood does not improve. He may not be Johnny, but he’s another bad boy. Perhaps, now that Johnny has left the show, he’s stepping up to take his place. I should have sent them both home the first night.
I fold my arms across my chest and lean against the doorjamb, not opening the door any further. “Hi.”
He cocks an eyebrow, clearly surprised at the cool reception, but doesn’t get angry. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I shrug, still out of sorts. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking.”
If Xavier is put off by my behavior, he doesn’t show it. “Johnny has a temper. I saw it when the cameras weren’t around. Did he try to hurt you?”