Elena laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Please. I watched the footage from your overnight dates. I saw the way you looked at each other. The tension, the chemistry. It was electric.”
My jaw tightens. “Things change.”
“What happened, Ryan?”
“Nothing happened.”
“Bullshit.” She slaps her hand on the desk, making me jump slightly. “Something happened. Something big enough to turn you both into walking corpses. So I’m going to ask you again: what happened?”
I stare at her for a long moment, weighing my options. I could tell her the truth. About the fight, about Wren pushing me away, about how I’m completely fucked up over a woman I can’t have. But that would give Elena exactly what she wants. More drama, more manipulation, more ways to torture us for ratings.
“She got bored.” Elena arches a brow. I almost say “I scared her off.” Almost say “I didn’t tell her what she meant to me until it was too late.” But instead, I smile. “Can’t win ’em all.”
Elena blinks. “Bored?”
“Yeah. Turns out, forty-eight hours of my company was about thirty-six hours too many.”
It’s a lie, but it’s the kind of lie Elena can work with. The kind that makes me look like an ass instead of revealing how much this is actually destroying me.
“Interesting,” she muses. “And how do you feel about that?”
“Disappointed, I guess. But not surprised. Wren’s always been hard to pin down.”
“So you’re moving on?”
“What else would I do?”
Elena studies me for a long moment. I can practically see the wheels turning in her head. She’s trying to figure out how to use this, how to turn our disaster into compelling television.
“Good,” she says finally. “Because we have a group date planned for tomorrow. Time to refocus on the other women.”
“Sure.”
“And Ryan?” She leans forward again, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Try to look like you’re having fun. Dead-eyed bachelors don’t make for good television.”
I force a smile. “You got it.”
She dismisses me with a wave. I walk back toward the living room on autopilot. The other contestants are still there, still gossiping and speculating. They look up when I enter, all fake smiles and barely concealed curiosity.
“Everything okay?” Heidi asks.
“Perfect,” I lie. “Just scheduling stuff for tomorrow.”
“What’s tomorrow?” Nikki wants to know.
“Group date. Should be fun.”
The word “fun” tastes like ash in my mouth. Because I know what tomorrow’s going to be like. Me going through the motions, pretending to be interested in women who aren’t Wren, while she watches from the sidelines and acts like she doesn’t care.
Fuck, I need a drink. Or ten.
I excuse myself and head to the kitchen, hoping to find something stronger than the wine they usually stock. But when I push through the swinging door, I stop dead.
Wren’s there, standing at the counter with her back to me. She’s changed into yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that swallows her whole. Her hair is damp from a shower, twisted up in a messy bun that makes my fingers itch to touch it.
She turns when she hears me enter. For a split second, her mask slips. I see the hurt in her eyes, the exhaustion, the same hollow ache that’s been eating me alive since our fight.
Then the walls go back up.
