Matched (44 page)

My eyes dart back to Cruz, and this time he averts his gaze.

“All in due time. Everyone, please have a seat.”

I hate that Miranda’s a bit far for me to reach—I need my girls right now—but I see her worried expression mirrors my own when she looks down at me. Callie is right below her, and reaches up to grab her hand before they both look to me. I’m just about to stage a coup when it dawns on me.

What if it’s something bad? Like…

I suck in a lungful of stale air, unable to even think it. Emma has to be fine, or Cruz wouldn’t be here. Maybe she’s gonna make a grand entrance—perhaps she and Court married? I don’t want to steal her thunder, but—

“Gorgeous.”

The calm, low timbre has me jerking my eyes to him in spite of myself. “S’okay.” He nods and I breathe slowly, swinging my gaze to Callie and Miranda and attempting the faintest smile to help ease them as he did me.

Even though he didn’t call, or come to me, or find me backstage…if he says it’s okay, I trust it really is.

Tom recovers. “Zeffrey, welcome. Nice to meet you. But Miles, I have to ask, why come on a show matching men to women if you’re homosexual?”

“Ah, Thomas, Thomas, Thomas,” Miles scolds. “Shouldn’t the question be, ‘Why didn’t your all-knowing computers pick up on that and send me a perfect match I might actually be attracted to?’”

I fall a little more in love with Miles every time he speaks, and I wish I’d have gotten to know him better when we were in the house.

“Well, er…” Tom stammers, looking to the crew off-camera for help. But the lot of them seem just as baffled as Tom, and most are looking either at the ceiling or their shoes.

“That’s what I thought.” Miles holds out his hand, and Zeffrey slaps it. “I figured you’d toy with the emotions of innocent people, which you did. I also figured
someone
would need to be able to attest to the load of crap your whole premise is—offer everyone reassurance that no matter what your ‘system’ said, they should listen to their hearts.” He looks to me and Cruz, then Miranda, and finally Callie and Oakley before Tom again. “And thank heavens, they did.”

“Okay.” Tom shifts uncomfortably in his seat before donning a plastic smile and looking up top. “Peyton, I believe we were on you?”

“Just want the record to show I would’ve won. Had all the matches figured out, whether they made sense or not.”

“Really? Is that true, everyone? Was Peyton the mastermind behind deliberations?”

“
He
thinks so,” Ivy scoffs.

“He was pretty damn good,” Oakley adds. “He had charts going and everything. I think he would’ve been close. Couple loopholes, shockers…” His voice trails off.

“Miles picked up very nicely where Peyton left off,” I say with a smile. “So much so that he won the whole thing. Right?”

I look to him, and he blows me a kiss.

“That’s right. Our grand-prize winners—the final couple standing—were Miles and Emma.” Tom looks up to the back row. “Cruz, any thoughts?”

“Miles is a helluva guy. I have no problem with that.” He leans forward to pat Miles on the shoulder.

“You’re just glad there’s no chance he’d fuck her,” Wyatt snorts.

I reach around Ivy and slap him across the face without a single thought other than the fact that we’re not “on the show” anymore. They can feel free to kick me out of here. And Wyatt can watch his mouth.

“Your brother would kick your ass for that, you pig! Don’t you dare talk about—”

Hands grip my shoulders. “Harlow.” Cruz’s voice invades my fury. He’s pulling me out of Wyatt’s face, where I’m now standing. “Come sit up here with me. We’re gonna let Court take care of that. I wouldn’t dream of robbing him of it.”

I climb the bleachers with Cruz’s help, my body thrumming with frustration, and settle down at the top. When he sits beside me, I scoot as far away as possible, which isn’t more than half a foot. But his arm’s quick to hook around me, pulling me right back flush against his side.

“All right, kind of out of order, but seems the way to go. Harlow?” Tom singles me out, and I cringe. Probably shouldn’t slap people if you don’t want attention. “You were certainly one to watch this season, the only plus one to enter the house as part of an actual couple. I know the viewers are dying to hear from you and Oakley. Where do things stand now?”

Oakley looks at me over his shoulder, and I nod curtly.

“I’ll answer that, Tom,” Oakley says as Cruz’s arm tightens around me. “Harlow and I are great friends, and that’ll never change. I’ll always love her, and I hope she’ll always love me, but we’re not
in
love. Life put a few years and a good bit of distance between us, and when we were reunited, we were just different people.”

“Harlow, does that sum it up for you?”

“Yes,” I answer our host.

“But Callie was one of your best friends in the house.” He presses for something juicer to be revealed. “It doesn’t bother you that she matched with your ex-fiancé, took a trip with him, and is sitting by him now?”

My mouth’s open, ready to respond, when Callie butts in. “I have something to say if that’s okay, Harlow.”

Again, I simply nod.

She takes a breath and looks at Tom. “Harlow and I had a very good talk before I left with Oakley, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s still one of my best friends in the house. Yes,” she says, peering up at me, “I’ve kissed him. But that’s it, I swear.”

“It’s true,” Oakley grumbles. Jensen, the odd duck who’s been silent since pretty much everyone hates him, laughs.

“And it’ll stay that way,” Callie adds quickly. I see Oakley’s head drop—not in frustration, but almost sadness.

“What about his games you’ve been spotted at, Callie?” Rachel jabs. “And the team dinner? I saw pictures online. You two looked pretty cozy to me.”

“I know it’s hard for you to believe, but some women are able to have guy friends
and
keep their legs shut,” Callie seethes at her.

I speak up, needing her to understand. “Callie, I already told you I’m okay with it. If you and Oakley like each other, please don’t hold back. I’m serious. You two would be great together.” I give her a smile, and finally think it’s sinking in when she returns one.

She nods, her eyes glistening with building tears, then turns back around very slowly. She’s looking at Oakley, and I watch as she grabs both his cheeks, lifts his head, and kisses him. He responds instantly, his large arms snaking around her, holding her close. He must say something against her lips, because she starts to giggle. When they break apart, Oakley looks back at me, and I’m grinning. His happiness is all I need.

“Well, glad you two got that worked out, because let’s face it, Harlow wouldn’t have much room to talk. Let’s take a look back, shall we?” Tom says. A screen comes down, and a video montage starts to play.

I watch as Oakley and I walk into the house together. I see him spinning me in his arms on the beach, kissing me, and proposing to me. Then the music changes, and it’s…the challenge where Cruz licks me, me sunbathing by the pool with Cruz’s eyes glued to me from a distance, the grotto…and the hammock!

It’s too much. I leap up and barely make it down and off the bleachers without falling, crying as I run backstage.
Exit. Where’s the damn exit?

“Stop. Please.”

I freeze in place, the sound of his deep plea behind me chilling me to the bone.

“Will you look at me?”

I can’t move or stop the tears. “Where’s Emma?” is all I grate out, my back still to him.

His hands grip my waist and spin me to face him. “She’s fine, I swear to you.”

“Then why isn’t she here? What aren’t you telling me?” I sniffle, hating him seeing me like this, with tears still pouring out.

“She couldn’t make it. But you’ll hear from her soon—promise.” His thumb strokes my cheek and I recoil, not caring about the frown deepening over his beautiful lips I’ve missed so much.

He doesn’t move away, though. “I know you got tested to be a match for her, Harlow. You didn’t have to do that, and the fact that you did…thank you.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t.” I choke on a sob and his face contorts, pained either by the sound or the fact that I didn’t match his sister.

He crushes my body against his. “My gorgeous girl, inside and out. I missed you so damn much.” He sighs against my hair, where his cheek rests. “Feels amazing to hold you again.”

“Then why didn’t you call or text?” I try to push away, but he doesn’t budge. My anger’s waning; I’m enjoying him this close way too much. “Where’ve you been?”

“I should have.” He lifts his head, and his eyes find mine. “It’s been crazy lately—and not lame-excuse, cop-out crazy. I honestly couldn’t tell you if I’ve remembered to eat, bathe, and sleep enough over the last couple days. Since Emma got home from the island, it’s been constantly going.”

“You left before her. Why not call then?”

“I stayed at the resort on the island until she was done filming, while you were in Aspen, and I still had no cellphone. I haven’t memorized your number quite yet, but I will.” He winks. “I know I should’ve called or texted you the week after, you’re absolutely right, and…I’m sorry.” His gaze clouds with regret. “It wasn’t because I wasn’t thinking about you—I always was, even when I felt guilty for letting my mind wander selfishly.

“It’s just…I’ve never had a girlfriend—again, no excuse—but this is new for me, and life’s been a whirlwind. Time got away from me, and before I knew it…” He sighs. “I knew you’d be hurt, but I’d die before I hurt you intentionally, gorgeous. Please forgive me. I’ll do anything to make it up to you.” He steps back and cradles my face. “I’ll explain everything, and swear to never keep anything from you again. But right now, can you go on blind faith till this is over?”

His eyes always give him away, speaking louder than his lips ever could. And the begging blue gems are telling me he’s being honest.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His mouth devours mine. His lips are forceful but lush, his tongue ruthless. I bite it.

“Fuck!” He flinches, holding it between his thumb and forefinger for a second. “What was that?”

“A text takes approximately twenty seconds to send. Next time, find the time. I deserve that much.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips. “You got it, gorgeous.” He winks and leans in hesitantly. “You mad about anything else?”

“No.”

“Then don’t hurt me this time.” He chuckles and kisses me again, slowly and for a long time.

“Looks like Cruz and Harlow have decided to rejoin us. Welcome back,” Tom says as we take our seats.

“Thanks, asshole,” Cruz answers for the both of us. “Oakley?”

“Yeah?” He turns to look at Cruz.

“All good?”

Oakley considers Callie thoughtfully, then looks at me. A barrage of emotion flickers in his eyes before all I can see is content respect. “Yeah, man. All good.”

Cruz laces his fingers through mine and rests our joined hands on his leg. “Somebody catch us up?”

“Oh, pick me!” Callie squeals sarcastically. “We revisited the orgy that almost was, in which Jensen the Devious Rapist Wannabe did nothing to help anyone. Number ninety-six here,” she says, clapping Oakley on the shoulder, “is gonna kill him later. Nadia’s still a whore who’s fucking said dead man, which makes her a necrophiliac. And the viewers asked Miranda how she felt about it all, to which she responded—”

“I hope it fucking rots and falls off the bastard!” Miranda finishes.

“Tom, did I miss anything?” Callie asks, batting her eyelashes.

“See why I love them?” I hear Miles mumble to Zeffrey, who laughs, nodding.

“Um…no, I think that about, er…covers it.”
Holy shit, Tom’s tongue-tied
. He looks to the crew, who throw a signal…and he’s back! “So, Cruz…you matched with Miranda, but are obviously pretty friendly with Harlow. Care to enlighten us?”

He leans in to kiss my temple and whispers, “Hold on tight,” before addressing Tom. “Sure. I’m honored to have matched with Miranda. She’s a beautiful person, and since my lady’s best friends with her, I’m happy she’ll be around.

“And I’m more than friendly with Harlow—I’m crazy about her. I sat back and respected her relationship with Oakley, even though I wanted her the minute you welcomed us to the island. They were well broken up before I so much as brushed my hand on hers, but it’s on now.” He looks at me, smiling. “If that’s all right with her, I mean. How ’bout it, gorgeous? Sound good?”

“Very,” I whisper, only to him.

“Keep holding.” He kisses my nose. “And Tom, I wish the same happiness for Miranda. Got a video for her?” he asks.

“As a matter of fact, I do. As you all know, your producer was replaced because, well…he just couldn’t seem to stay behind the camera. Let’s take a look.”

“What the hell?” I growl in Cruz’s ear.

“Trust me.”

The studio lights dim, and a video plays on the screen. I’m stunned as I watch, tears wetting my cheeks as “Try a Little Tenderness” provides the soundtrack to a montage of things I missed. I see Adam watching her, waving, smiling, pointing, pulling her into corners to whisper, gliding a hand down her cheek, tucking her hair behind her ear.