“That was filmed weeks ago, Mom,” Ellie says softly.

“Oh!” Her mom gives an embarrassed laugh. “That’s right. Sorry.”

“The ‘reality’ part of reality TV shows is a bit of a misnomer these days,” I say with a smile to put her at ease.

Ellie’s mom nudges her aside. “Won’t you come in? Can I get you some wine? Popcorn? My daughter?”

Ellie groans. “Mother.”

I glance over at Ellie and search her face, trying to read her. Nothing.

Like I said, toughest audition of my life.

And the most important.

“Actually,” I say, turning back to her mom, “would it be terribly rude—”

“No, it would not, because we were just leaving,” Marjorie says, emerging from the kitchen, coats and purses slung over her arm. “Come on, Bethany. I need to get home to the baby.”

“But—”

Marjorie ushers Ellie’s mother out the door. “Later. She’s going to fill us in later.”

Marjorie turns back at the last minute and points a finger in my face. “I’m giving you your privacy, but if you hurt her more than you already have, I’ll be back. With a kn

ife.”

A second later the door slams in my face.

I turn back to Ellie, who’s rubbing tiredly at her forehead. “Well. That was intense,” I say.

She gives me a faint smile. “I feel like I should warn you, she probably means it about the knife.”

“Huh.” I keep my voice gentle. “Did she also mean what she said about me hurting you?”

Ellie takes a deep breath and avoids my eyes. Then she looks back. “I watched the finale.”

I try to stifle the surge of panic at her carefully modulated tone. This is hardly the scenario that I’d imagined, the one where the girl launches herself into my arms.

The scenario that I’d hoped for.

I give her a small smile. “Gotta love a twist ending.”

She doesn’t smile back. “You could have told me.”

I risk a step closer. “I told you. The contract—”

“That’s crap!” she cries. “You could have saved me weeks of pain, and instead you let me think…you let me think…”

She lets out a small sob, and I reach for her, wrapping an arm around her back as my other hand tilts her face to mine. “Don’t cry.”

“You let me think you were in love with one of them.”

My thumb catches a tear on her cheek, brushes it away. “I wasn’t. Never. Not for a single second, Ellie.”

“Then why,” she says on a broken sob, “did you let me go? Why’d you stay there with them and go through with all of that? I mean, I know I told you to let me go, but I didn’t…I didn’t realize until it was too late…”

I feel a little thrill of hope, and it makes me bolder. I move closer. “What did you realize, Ellie?”

Tags: Lauren Layne I Do, I Don't Romance
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