Falling Into Love with You (The Hate-Love Duet 2)

Listening to Nadine talk, it dawns on me there’s no amount of money, no dangling carrot, no free diamond ring, that would ever make me fake-propose to Laila. And not because the moment would be cringey-ass, which it would be. But because I love Laila. Because after all the puzzle pieces have finally snapped into place for me, thanks to our amazing conversation last night, a dam has broken inside me and there’s no turning back. I love that girl, with all my heart and soul, and I’m one hundred percent sure of it. And guess what? I’m positive getting down on bended knee, looking up at Laila with a ring in my hand, and saying those sacred words to her, without truly meaning them, will fuck things up for us beyond repair. Maybe not that same day. But down the line.

Likewise, if I get down on bended knee, ring in hand, and ask Laila to be my wife—and actually do mean those sacred words—then blowing that once in a lifetime memory by doing it on reality TV would haunt me for the rest of my days. I don’t know if I want to get married one day. I don’t know if I’m capable of being anyone’s husband. Not even Laila’s. But if I decide to propose to Laila in the future, then I’m going to do it right. And not because Nadine Collins wants me to do it, as some sort of ratings grab.

“I tell you what,” Nadine says, apparently interpreting my silence as a “no.” “We’ll let you tell Laila about the proposal in advance. That’s what’s concerning you the most, right? That you’d propose to Laila and she’d think it’s real—and then, you’d have to tell her the truth afterwards?”

Yet again, Nadine’s words are helping me understand my feelings. Contrary to what Nadine thinks, I’m not worried about Laila thinking my proposal is real. I’m worried about her thinking it’s fake. I’m worried about having to tell Laila, after the fact, “Oh, no, that was really me asking you to marry me.” Obviously, telling Laila about the proposal in advance wouldn’t solve that problem. If I told Laila in advance about my plan to get down on bended knee, Laila would assume the proposal would be fake. And then, wouldn’t she feel at least a little bit disappointed about that, after everything that passed between us last night? On the other hand, if, somehow, I got to the point two months from now where I felt certain I genuinely wanted to propose to Laila, then I sure as hell wouldn’t tell her that in advance. Not for all the money in the world. So, really, how could a proposal in the finale, real or fake, not end badly for me? “I’m not going to propose to Laila in the finale,” I declare. “Not for any amount of money.”

Nadine doesn’t speak for a long moment, but I can hear her wheels turning over the phone line. Finally, she says, “I was hoping for a different answer from you, Savage. The truth is, in the absence of a confirmed proposal in the finale, we’re going to need to shake things up a bit.”

Goosebumps erupt on my arms and neck. “Shake things up how?”

“You and Laila are going to break up this week. And we’re going to terminate her contract.”

Fucking bitch. Laila was right. “You can’t do that, Nadine.”

“Actually, I can. There’s a buy-out clause in Laila’s contract. And in the absence of a confirmed proposal on the horizon, we’re going to exercise it. We might bring Laila back for the finale. In fact, we hope to do that. But we’ll have to play it by ear and see how the new storyline unfolds.”

“Laila was promised a performance slot in the finale, in her written contract. We relied on that and wrote a song to perform together.”

“I’d be happy to show you Laila’s contract. Invocation of the early-termination clause expressly renders all other promises in the contract null and void. So, technically, if we were to terminate Laila, we’d be released from our promise to give her that performance slot. We’d love to give her that slot, regardless. Which we’d do, if you were to call me, at least two weeks before the finale, and say you’ve ‘gotten back together’ with Laila and now plan to propose to her in the finale. Of course, you could avoid that entire rollercoaster ride by agreeing now, in writing, to propose to Laila in the finale.”

I argue Laila’s case for a while—talking passionately about Laila’s incredible talent and charisma. I talk about how good she is with people, and insist the contestants on her team, as well as the audience, will love her. And as I say that last bit—about the contestants and audience loving Laila—my heart swells and solidifies with my own love for Laila.