I stifle a laugh. “I thought we could go over tomorrow’s challenge and our final picks.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out some of the ideas Luna helped me come up with this past week . . . while we were naked in bed.
That woman just about wore me out, and I’m grateful for every second of it.
Thad eyes the packet of paper and slowly takes a seat on the coffee table. He snatches it out of my hand and sets the chips down beside him.
He scans the first page, brow furrowed. “These are decorations?”
“Yeah, statement piece for the ceremony.”
Thad studies the idea I put together with Luna: strands of feathers, strung up and cascading behind the bride and the groom. His lips quirk to the side, and then he looks up at me. “Where did you come up with this?”
I shrug. “Just thought of it.”
“Uh-huh.” He looks at the paper again. “This doesn’t look like something you could draw.”
Shit. Maybe because I didn’t draw it.
“Took me a long time.”
“Uh-huh,” he repeats, and then he turns to the next page, where Luna drew out a feather garland that was hard to understand, but once she got the supplies and showed me what to do, I understood it. Thad lifts an eyebrow. “This looks complicated.”
“It’s not. I practiced.”
“You practiced?”
“Yeah, went to the craft store, and Lu—” Oh shit. “Luu-oopy drunk.” I try to make the save, but Thad’s eyes narrow. “Just loopy drunk, I came up with the idea. Should try it. Craft stores and buzzed—you come up with great ideas.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird. Am I being weird?” I ask Naomi.
“A little weird. Kind of jittery.”
“Yes.” Thad snaps his fingers. “Jittery. That’s the exact word I was looking for. You’re acting jittery.”
“Just, uh, nervous to hear what you think. I worked hard on this.”
Thad studies me a few beats longer, his eyes like laser beams trying to cut me in half. “What’s your game?”
“Maybe he’s just trying to be helpful,” Naomi says.
Thad holds up the papers. “This is helpful. And I appreciate it.” With two fingers, he points from his eyes to mine. “But I have my eyes on you, Alec.”
“Okay . . . ,” I say.
“Your eyes are shifty, and I don’t like shifty eyes.”
“Maybe because you’re being weird and making me feel uncomfortable.”
“I’m always like this. You should know that by now.”
Valid point.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Naomi asks, and I send her a silent Thank you for breaking up the weird staredown.
“Would love to,” I say, thinking of Luna, who’s having dinner at Cohen and Declan’s right now and prepping for tomorrow. I told her I was going to do the same, and she told me I was cute. I prefer sexy but settled for cute. She also gave me some encouraging words and reminded me that breaking Thad was probably going to be difficult, but not to give up.
She could not have been more right.
“Wonderful. I’ll order some pizza. Thad, why don’t you go wash your face? You have Dorito cheese dust caked all over your mouth.”
“And you let me intimidate my brother like this? Christ, Naomi.” Thad stomps off toward the bathroom.
I chuckle and pull out my phone as Naomi orders pizza.
There’s a text from Luna.
Luna: How’s it going over there?
Alec: Just as you’d expect.
Luna: Thad giving you the side eye?
Alec: Heavily. And he called me out for having shifty eyes and being jittery.
Luna: Are you acting weird?
Alec: A little.
Luna: Relax, Alec. Just be yourself.
Alec: It’s encouragement like that, that makes me . . . fall.
Luna: It’s admissions like that ^^^ that make me . . . fall.
Alec: Can’t wait for this to be over so I can kiss you in front of everyone—let them know how much you mean to me.
Luna: Can’t wait for this all to be over so I can knit a pair of handcuffs to gently bind your hands to your headboard.
Alec: LOL. Something to look forward to.
“Helen is ripe today,” Thad says from the corner of his mouth, his hand on my shoulder. “Look at her—I think I see fangs poking out of her mouth.”
“She’s not happy about the Twitter trolls,” Naomi says.
The first episode of the show came out on Wednesday. There is a much-needed delay between filming and airing; the show is constantly moving from state to state, providing viewers new contestants, but prefilming gives the crew and judges a break. Luna and I watched the first episode together on Wednesday, and I laughed so hard tears were rolling down my face. The editing they did of Helen sitting on Luna was the most priceless thing I had ever seen. Thank God I recorded it at my place too, because it has been endless entertainment. Not to mention the people at work keep sending me memes from the first episode, making my week that much better.
“What? They’re talking about us on Twitter already? In that Facebook group?” Thad asks. “What did they say?”
“It’s not important,” Naomi says, giving me a look.
Things Thad doesn’t need to know—how much America thinks the judges were high when they picked our theme to win the first week—which they unanimously claimed to be vastly original. To say viewers weren’t nice about it on social media is an understatement.
“It is important. Who’s in the lead? Who’s the front runner?”
Naomi glances at me, and I just shrug. She sighs and says, “Based on the comments . . . Team Rossi.”
“Bastards,” Thad whispers as he whips his head to look over at Luna, Cohen, and Declan, who are bent over their workbench, strategizing.
“Good news, though—America really despises Helen.”
“Join the club, America.” Thad places both hands on the workbench. “Our true competition is Team Rossi, and we need to make sure we’re on point today. Naomi, really play up the pregnancy to the cameras. America loves pregnant women.”
“Do they?” I ask.
“They would be heathens if they didn’t.” Thad points to Naomi’s substantial bump. “This woman is sharing her body with another living being. She’s letting it suck the life from her. See these dark circles?” Thad motions to Naomi’s eyes. “No concealer can cover them up, and they weren’t there before. And you should see her nipples. Never in my life have I seen—oof.” Thad bends forward, holding his stomach.
“Don’t talk about my nipples,” Naomi says as Thad, still bent over, draws a large circle with his finger and mouths, “Huge.”
“Mary, we’re ready!” Diane calls out as Mary walks on set.
Her heels clack across the concrete floor, and as she passes our workbench, she pauses and reaches over, caressing my arm. “It was great seeing you on Monday, Alec.” She winks. “Looking forward to what you create today.” With that, she takes off toward her spot. I quickly glance over at Luna, who looks ready to kill.
“What the hell was that?” Thad asks. “Did you go out with her?”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “She saw me with Lu—” Fuck. “Lucas,” I say to recover. “We were having dinner and ran into her. No idea why she’s touching me.”
“She probably thinks you’re cute. If you do her in her dressing room, think she could sway the votes for us to win?”
“I don’t think my penis is that powerful,” I deadpan.
“Mine is,” Thad says with pride. “Got this one pregnant, and you should see the armor she wears as underwear.”
“You realize I can murder you in your sleep, right?” Naomi asks.
“Quiet on set,” Diane says and then points to Mary.
Plastering on that fake smile, Mary goes into her spiel, reading off the intro they have on cue cards in front of the camera.
T
oday we have an hour to create the rest of our decorations, and then we’re going to have half an hour to utilize the rest of our budget on anything we want to upgrade. So we get to go through all the aspects of the wedding and decide if we want to add more to our food and beverage plans, change out the bouquets or the decorations, or tweak the attire. We will have time—not much, but we’ll make it work. We’ve already decided to use the extra $1,000 we’ve saved up for the bouquet and boutonnieres. Swapping out our horrendous creations was an easy choice to make.
“Are you ready, contestants?” Mary asks, clasping her hands together.
We all nod and get in position before a white curtain screening off the supplies we’ll use for our final decorations. Once something is taken, that’s it—there are no replacements, just like in Chopped when there’s only one ice cream machine. You have to be the fastest, or you’re screwed.
But I think we’re ready.
“On your mark, get set, create!” The curtain drops, and I have a moment of uncertainty as I take in all the different ribbons, strings, paper, florals, and mounds of tulle. Focus, Baxter. Helen, surprisingly, is the first to the table and starts grabbing every spare feather and spool of string she can get her hands on.
“She’s stealing all the feathers!” Thad shouts and then charges toward Helen, blocking her and trying to gather the remaining feathers.
“Get off me, you monster!” Helen shouts.
“Don’t hit him!” Luciana calls out.
“Ouch. Did you see that?” Thad screams. “She hit me.”
“It was a tap.”
“Luna, wood triangles?” Cohen asks, holding up a package.
“No,” she says, digging around. I know she’s mentally flipping through all the sketches and supply lists she’s made this week.
“Careful of my wife, careful!” Thad calls out.
Naomi holds her belly and shouts, “I’m so pregnant! I’m so pregnant!”
Christ.
“Stop staring and find the string!” Thad shouts at me.
“That’s what I’m looking for,” I say, scanning the table, even though Thad was right—I was staring.
I spot the burlap ribbon I know Luna was hoping would be there, and without even thinking about it, I pick it up and shout, “Hey, Luna—here.” I toss her the ribbon, and she catches it, a stunned look on her face. Icy realization washes over me, but I have no time to recover.
Oh shit.
I glance over at Thad, whose mouth is hanging open in shock, his eyes burning with anger.
“One minute!” Mary calls out.
Ignoring him, I scour the table for the rest of our supplies, but it feels like nothing is left, so I instead just start picking up different sheets of cardstock I think we could work with, knowing we need at least something to use for decorations. We could cut out feathers, or something like that.
I’m just reaching for a scrap of bright-pink paper when Mary calls out for us to put our hands up and go back to our workbenches.
We make it back, and Diane yells, “Cut! Clean up. Five minutes, and we are getting started again.”
Thad whips around to me. “What the fuck was that?”
“All of the stuff was taken—I just grabbed what I thought could work.”
“I’m not talking about the things you grabbed,” Thad says, seething. “I’m talking about you handing shit off to Team Rossi, as if you know exactly what they need.”
My stomach drops. How on earth do I talk myself out of this one? There’s no valid explanation. Can I claim I was confused?
Mind control?
That could work. Luna has been working on mind control and is perfecting it on me. It’s a stretch, but if I play it right, I think I can convince Thad—
“That was so sweet of you to help your girlfriend back there,” Mary says, coming up to the workbench and talking loudly enough for the entire set to hear. “She looked so frazzled searching for that ribbon. She’s lucky she has you.” Mary pats my shoulder and walks away.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Girlfriend?” Thad asks, in seeming disbelief.
“You guys are dating?” Helen asks.
“What?” I hear Cohen quietly ask. I turn toward Team Rossi’s workbench. Luna meets my gaze, her eyes wide and her lip trembling.
Jesus Christ, what do we do?
“I should have seen it,” Helen continues, and if I didn’t have just feathers and fabric on my workbench, I’d seriously consider throwing something at her. “I saw the way he was looking at her.” Then she gasps. “Wait a second, does that mean these two teams have been working together, colluding against Team Hernandez? Is that allowed? Diane!” she shouts. “Diane, we need to have a conversation.”
“Luna, what’s going on?” Cohen says. Tears begin to well in Luna’s eyes.
Fucking hell. I take a step toward her, but Thad pulls on my shoulder, forcing me to face him.
“Tell me she’s lying. Right now, Alec. Tell me Mary is lying.”
“Alec?” Naomi looks up at me, confusion pinching her brow.
Fuck.
What the hell do I do? I don’t think lying at this point is going to get me anywhere—probably only make the situation worse.
I drag my hand over the back of my neck. “Yeah, we’re dating.”
“You’ve got to be—” Thad sucks in a sharp breath while pressing a finger against my chest. “You asshole. You fucking asshole.”
“Thad, it’s not what—”
“Not what I think it is?” he finishes, his voice growing louder and louder. “Because from the looks of it, you’re dating the competition, and—” As if everything starts clicking in his head, his eyes dart back and forth, and he pulls away from me. “Holy shit, has she been giving you advice?” Thad glares over at Luna. “Have you been giving him advice? Telling him what to do so you can sabotage us?”
“Don’t,” I say, gripping the front of Thad’s shirt and pulling him back to me. “Do not fucking talk to her like that.”
Thad pushes my hand away. “Those drawings, those weren’t yours. They were hers.” Thad points, his anger growing. “And how funny that everything we needed was miraculously taken, and we ended up with shit.” Thad waves at the pile of junk on our workbench. “She set you up, and you fell for it.”
“She did not set me up.”
“You’re so desperate for any kind of female attention, because Mom never liked you, that you fell for her scheme.”
“Watch it,” I say slowly, deliberately.
“Thad, maybe we should talk about this somewhere else,” Naomi says calmly.
But Thad has truly lost it. Planting his hands on his hips, he nods toward Cohen and Declan. “Did you know about this?”
I glance at Cohen, who’s standing ramrod straight, anger rolling off him in waves.
Fuck.
“He didn’t,” I say, facing Team Rossi. “Cohen, please, this is on me. I asked her not to tell you. She wanted to, but I wanted to keep it a secret until the end of the show. This isn’t her fault.”
His jaw works to the side. “This is her fault. Because my sister knows better than to keep secrets, especially about something this important.”
“Cohen . . .” Luna reaches for him, but he turns and walks off the set. Luna chases after him. Declan glances at me, giving me the most profound look of disappointment I have ever experienced before walking away as well.
Spinning toward Thad, I say, “Why the fuck did you do that? Make those accusations?”
“I didn’t do that.” Thad points at me. “You did that.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were going to change. I thought you were actually going to try to be a part of my life, but that’s not the case. I should have known. Ever since you left for college, it’s always been about you. What you want.”
“Thad, I spent my entire fucking childhood taking care of you. I had the right to focus on me for a goddamn second!” I yell, feeling my control slip.
“But you didn’t have to forget about me,” he says, his voice low now, any traces of hysteria vanishing from his eyes as he gives me a slow once-over. “You used to be my hero, but now you’re just like Dad—another selfish man who’s left me disappointed.”
“I’m not Dad,” I say through clenched teeth, pushing Thad in the shoulder. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”
Thad pushes me back. Naomi gasps and hurries to stand in front of Thad, her back to his chest. “Why did you have to make this competition about you?” Thad asks.
“What are you talking about? This has been about you the entire time.”
“This was supposed to be about creating a wedding for me and Naomi, but it became about you, about the two of us holding your hand through the whole process, encouraging you to keep helping, giving you all the credit for the cake, making sure you’re not too depressed or angry during the challenges. We’re walking on eggshells around you just so I can have my brother around. And then this . . .” Thad shakes his head in disappointment. “I’ll make it easy on you. After this, don’t even fucking worry about talking to me, because we’re done.”
With that, Thad walks away.
“Naomi, I didn’t—”
“Don’t, Alec, not right now.” She takes off after Thad, leaving me with a million questions in my head, but the one that keeps playing on repeat . . . Did I really make this about me?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
LUNA
“Cohen, wait!” I call, my heart nearly pounding out of my chest as I trail after my brother. “Please, let me explain.”
He stops, hands on his hips, head tilted down. “Why, Luna? What does it even matter anymore? You’re dating. Cat is out of the bag.”
I hurry around him so I can see his face. Off in the distance, I spot Declan, still on set and standing to the side, looking ready to step in if he’s needed.
“I know, but at least let me tell you how it happened.”
“I don’t care how it happened. I just care about why you didn’t tell me.”
“I wanted to, I really did, but Alec—”
“Alec doesn’t control this,” Cohen says, motioning between us. “He doesn’t control our relationship—you shouldn’t have given him that opportunity.”
The Wedding Game Page 29