Romancing Miss Right (29 page)

“Sure. Yeah.”

“Good. And just remember I’m only a few feet
away with security if he should start to get violent. Good
luck!”

Marcy glared after the producer. Her bedside
manner sucked.

But her glare didn’t last long. She was too
busy turning toward the villa and squinting for some glimpse of
Craig at the top of the path.

He appeared—all swagger and charisma—long
legs, a dark suit, and a cocky smile. Her heart lurched. This was
it. The last time she was going to see him smile at her. She didn’t
know how he would react when she rejected him, but she knew it
wouldn’t be with smiles. Or maybe it would be. Maybe he would laugh
it off and she would be the one to burst into tears at the proof
that all his
mights
and
maybes
had been nothing more
than the illusion of emotion that didn’t exist.

The path was too freaking long. It was taking
him forever.

When Daniel had walked toward her, the time
had seemed to pass in a blink. Everything had seemed like it was in
fast forward. Her apology, his tears, his departure. It all flew
past her in a rush, but now time seemed to have reversed, each
second stretching into a hundred until she could barely breathe
from the pressure of it.

She could do this. All she had to do was open
her mouth and say,
It’s over. We’re done
. Easy.

All she had to do was crack open her chest
and rip out her heart.

Easy.

#

She wasn’t smiling.

She looked stunning, standing in a flowing
purplish dress in front of the altar with the pristine mountain
lake as a backdrop behind her, but when she met his eyes, she
wasn’t smiling.

Well, shit. That couldn’t be a good sign.

Craig forced his own smile to stay steady as
he made his way down the path toward her. It had to be the world’s
longest garden path—probably chosen by the producers expressly for
its ability to torture him with the fucking hike to his doom. And
it was definitely starting to feel like doom.

A little frown line had appeared between her
eyebrows and as he got closer he thought he could even detect the
glimmer of tears in her big green eyes. That wouldn’t do. Even if
she was planning to dump his ass, he wasn’t going to let her
cry.

“Hey, Marcy,” he called, flashing his
cockiest grin and trying to bring them back to a less serious
place.

Her smile was pathetic and forced. “Hey,
Craig.”

“You look like you’re going to a funeral. If
it’s my funeral, I should warn you that I always pictured it as
more a drunken revel where everyone talks shit about me than a
morbid thing. Kind of like a post-life roast. Since I’ll probably
be roasting myself.” He winked.

“That’s what you have to say? Jokes about the
fires of Hell?”

There was a flicker of
something—disappointment?—in her eyes. What did she want from him?
It was obvious from her expression that she’d already made up her
mind and he wasn’t her guy. He could beg. He could lay his heart
out there, but she was just going to tromp on it. She’d as much as
announced it the second she saw him.

She couldn’t even smile at him.

He should take the job and run. Tell her he’d
chosen career over love. Take the sure thing, the guarantee. She’d
made it clear she was a bad bet. If he chose love over money, he
might not get either. At least if he went with the job, he’d have
what he came for, since he could never have her.

He’d never been good enough for her in the
first place.

He stepped up beside her at the altar. This
was it. “Actually, there is something I need to tell you.”

“Wait, before you say anything—” She held up
a hand, as if to stop him and he caught it, interlacing their
fingers together.

“I have to go first,” he insisted.
Those
are the rules.
And besides, it made better television. “The
producers and Pendleton came to me.”

“What?” She blinked, her brow furrowing,
obviously not expecting his confession to go in that direction.

“They offered me a job. On network
television.”

“Craig, that’s great.”

“On the condition that I dump you at the
altar.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh.”

There was a wealth of understanding in that
word—but it was the wrong understanding. He could take the job and
run, but he couldn’t stand the flash of pain in her eyes, nor the
way all the fight seemed to leak out of her like water through a
sieve.

“I don’t want it.”

She shook her head, helpless and confused. “I
don’t understand.”

“The job. They can shove it. I choose
you.”

Her jaw dropped again, and this time it
stayed down, shock blanketing her face. Not a single word came out,
so he filled the silence. He was a radio guy. He was good at
filling silence. And for all that he’d thought these words would be
hard to say, nothing had ever come easier.

“I lied when I said I would break your heart.
Or maybe I meant it at the time, but I was a fucking idiot. I would
cut out my own heart before I let anything happen to yours. I
choose you and I want you to choose me. Please, baby. Even if the
guy who gets picked is never as famous as the runner up. Even if it
means we become just another sappy success story to get trotted out
at the reunion specials. I can’t lose this. I can’t lose you.
You’re the only person I don’t have to be the funny guy with—but
you’re the one I want to make laugh the most. I can relax with you.
I can be myself with you even when there are a hundred fucking
cameras on us. I need you, Marcy, to make me real. And yes, I am
scared shitless of love, but that didn’t stop me from falling in
love with you. I don’t think anything could have.”

“In love?”

“What did you think this was about? The
Friend Zone? I love you like crazy.” He paused. “It is actually
crazy. I’m giving up the job of a lifetime for you. You should
probably have my head examined.”

“You love me. No mights. No maybes. You just
do.”

He frowned. “I feel like I’m missing
something.”

“You’re all in. No more walls. No more
games.”

“I like games. Monopoly. Cards Against
Humanity.”

“Craig.”

“I’m all in, Marcy.”

“I was going to send you home.”

A two ton stone landed in his stomach. “Yeah.
I got that sense.” Then the penny dropped. “Wait. You were going
to? You aren’t anymore?”

“I wanted you from the second I saw you. I
fell for you so hard and I felt like such an idiot. Every time you
said you were just here for the exposure, I felt like more of a
fool for wanting more from you. I was so certain you would never be
able to want me back.”

He didn’t know whether to be hopeful or
crushed by her words, teetering on the knife edge between elation
and misery. “Please tell me you didn’t already choose Daniel.”

She took a breath, looking up at him. “I sent
him home.”

Balancing on that blade, not yet daring to
fall to one side. “And now?”

She shook her head wonderingly. “I can’t
believe this.”

Marcy’s hand moved to hover over the single
favor that waited atop the altar. For a long moment, she made him
wait, then her hand descended. “Craig Corrow, do you believe in
happy endings?”

“With you? I believe in happy
everything.”

“You’re insane. And I adore you, you madman.
You are my best bad influence, tempting me to love more than I ever
thought I could. So will you please accept this final token of my
favor?”

He plunged head-first off the knife-edge into
euphoria. “Fuck yes. Give it to me.”

She laughed. “You always say the sweetest
things.”

Her hands were shaking as they pinned the
ribbons to his lapel. When she was done, he caught her trembling
hands between his own. “My turn.”

Craig sank down onto one knee and Marcy’s
eyes went saucer wide. “What are you doing?”

“I called your father before I came here. I
figured I needed his permission if I was going to propose to
you.”

“Oh my God.”

“I asked him for his blessing. And he said
fuck no
.”

A startled laugh burst out of her mouth.

“So I was thinking maybe we should just date
for a little while. At least until I can win your father over.”

Her smile was blinding and he knew his must
be just as ridiculous. “I like that plan.”

He came to his feet, sliding his arms around
her and pulling her close. “The producers would probably like it if
we kissed now.”

“Just for the cameras?”

“One last time for the cameras. And then the
next two thousand kisses are just for me.”

But when she kissed him, he knew he’d have to
renegotiate. Two thousand would never be enough.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Success.

Miranda stalked back and forth in her Italian
hotel room, trying to figure out why the hell she felt so agitated
when it had all worked out perfectly.
Perfectly
, damn
it.

Her bare feet slapped along the hardwood
floors.

This was all Bennett’s fault. She’d been all
stirred up all season. Distracted. Anxious. Uncertain. She hadn’t
been herself and it had all started when Bennett had swooped into
her life and set everything off balance.

And now he wasn’t even speaking to her
because of the incident with the hospital in Ohio. Which had all
worked out fine, thank you very much.

“Damn it.”

She pulled out the Italian cell phone Todd
had procured for her. She didn’t even know if the damn thing would
make international calls. If it didn’t, she’d take it as a sign. A
sign that she should not, in any way, shape, or form, be talking to
Bennett Lang.

The call went through. One ring. Two.

She didn’t even know what time it was in LA.
Morning, sometime. Late enough to be decent. He was probably in a
meeting—

“Bennett Lang.”

He never answered the phone like that when he
knew it was her, but then he didn’t know it was her. She was using
an Italian cell. Would he have answered if he knew it was her?

“Hello?” he repeated, irritation creeping
in.

“Bennett, it’s me. Um, Miranda.”

He paused for so long she looked at the phone
to make sure she hadn’t lost the connection.

“Miranda. I take it your show has wrapped
principal photography and you have time to give a shit about me
now.”

She winced. “Okay, I deserve that, but hear
me out, okay?”

Another pause. “I’m listening.”

“I sort of lost my way this season. I know
that now.” Crap. She didn’t know what else to say. She’d never been
good at the touchy feely shit. Orchestrating it, sure. But living
it? “I didn’t shoot in the hospital. Well, okay, one shot and it
was a fucking money shot, but other than that we were really
respectful.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” His voice wasn’t
softening. She’d really hoped his voice would be softening by now.
He usually couldn’t stay mad at her. He was the patient one. The
forgiving one.

“I felt out of balance all season because…”
Shit. Words. There had to be words. What would the show coach her
to say? “I didn’t know how to process what I was feeling for you.”
Yeah, that was good. “I tried to force the show to be a perfect
love story because I didn’t know how to handle… us. And fuck, I
still don’t know how to handle it, Bennett. I don’t know how to be
with you. It was easier to just say fuck it and walk away, but I’m
miserable without you. I’ve been a fucking mess and I know that’s
not a ringing endorsement for giving me another shot, and I’m still
mad as hell about what you said to me in Ohio. The parasite on
society stuff. But I just really miss you and I—damn it, I love
you, okay? And I’m not good at that. I’ve never been good at
that.”

“Miranda.” Her name in his voice, his warm
voice, stopped the tide of words. “Where are you?”

“Um, just north of Rome?”

“When do you get back to LA?”

“I don’t know. Todd arranged the flights. I
delegated.”

Bennett laughed softly. “Good for you.”

“Yeah.”

“When you land in LA, call me and I’ll meet
you at your place, okay?” His voice was low and soothing, like he
was talking down a madwoman. And maybe he was.

“You aren’t back together with your ex?”

“Miranda,” her name was a scold. “Don’t be an
idiot.”

She almost laughed, so relieved that she
might still have a shot with him. “I’m not sure I know how to be
anything else right now.” She sank down on the edge of the hotel
bed. “This is scary.”

“I’ll be seeing you soon,” he promised. “I
have something to say to you, but I’m going to say it in
person.”

“Why not tell me now?”

“Because I know you, Miranda Pierce, and I’m
not going to give you a transatlantic flight to parse every
inflection of my voice and freak out about every word choice. We’ll
talk in person. Soon.”

“Soon.” That sounded pretty good. And it was
probably for the best. Telling him she loved him was one thing.
Hearing him say it back? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that
quite yet. She’d take the flight to get used to the idea. He really
did know her quite well. Love was a scary thing. But sometimes you
just had to go with it.

Epilogue

“And we’re back with
Miss Right, Marcy, and her Mister Right, Craig. Before the
commercial break we were talking about your rocky road to love—and
how your not-so-fairy-tale romance has caught on with the viewers.
Now I have to ask the question everyone is dying to know—what’s
next for you two? You’re still together and—Marcy, is that a ring
on your finger?”

Marcy smiled her for-camera smile at Josh
Pendleton and flashed the rock on her ring finger. “It is. Since we
wrapped filming, Craig has been out to Murphysboro several times
and I’ve been out to LA with my family as well and just last week,
he finally managed to convince my father to give his blessing.”