Game Changer

by Melissa Cutler

  “But . . .” he said, his mouth twisting into a smile that was more of a grimace. “But you’re not Harper. You’re not the woman I’ve fallen in love with.”

  Danielle’s arm stiffened. She pulled away from him, putting a few inches of physical space between them again. He was relieved for the space and wished he’d rejected the physical contact sooner.

  “She was here this past weekend, but it didn’t go well,” he said. “And now I’ve screwed everything up. She told me to let her go. She told me not to contact her again.”

  As much as he’d never forget the way her body had felt against his, the way she tasted, the way she sounded, he’d forever be haunted by the look on her face when she told him that she wasn’t going to wait for him, and that they were over. He’d never forget what it felt like to stand there and watch the back of her head in the taxi’s rear window and realize that everything he’d offered her had been too little, too late. She was not a consolation prize.

  “Is that your plan? You’re going to let her go?”

  “I don’t know. My obligations to this show complicate everything. Like you said, there’s a lot more at stake than my love life. There’s your music program, the veteran charities I support, more than a hundred jobs, and that contract I signed. If I quit the show, the producers have implied that they’d sue for damages.”

  “Maybe it’s time to remind yourself why you’re here. Why did you sign up for this show in the first place?”

  She knew the answer to that already—they’d discussed it on their impromptu late-night date—so she was asking rhetorically, but he was still moved to answer, because she was right. It was time to lay all the cards on the table and see what he had.

  “I wanted to inspire other veterans, those who’d lost hope. I wanted them to see how I’d picked myself back up after losing my leg and created a new, wonderful life full of adventure and possibilities. A better than normal life.” Which was bullshit now because the show was the very thing keeping him from living the life he wanted.

  “Does Harper understand why you’re doing all this?”

  “She does, and she’d been nothing but supportive. It was me who changed the rules of our relationship. First, when I left town to do this show, and then when I fell in love with her. Everything that’s happening now is my fault.”

  She strummed her fingers on her knee. “Sounds like it. And today’s her birthday. I know she said not to contact her again, but you have to call her, Brandon.”

  Yes. Yes, he did. “I have no earthly idea what I’d say.”

  “Well, you have until the plane touches down in Atlanta to figure it out.”

  “I’m sorry it’s not going to work out between you and me,” he said. “I like you a lot.”

  She patted his hand. “You’re a good man. And it could work out for us, temporarily. We have an understanding. I signed a fidelity contract for the show, too, but I wouldn’t have any expectations of you—physically or romantically—during the duration of our contracts. You’d be free to be with Harper, discretely.”

  I am not a consolation prize.

  And yet he’d disrespected her by treating her like one. How could he ever forgive himself, much less expect her to forgive him?

  The way he saw his choices laid out, he could walk off the show and hire a lawyer, then start the dual business of fighting for Harper’s love and fighting not to get his ass handed to him in court by the Meet the Groom producers. Or he could see out his obligations to the show with Danielle, then go to Harper a free man and do whatever it took, for as long as it took, to convince her to give him a second—no third, or was it fourth?—chance.

  Or, he could respect Harper’s wish to move on and try to do the same. He could propose to Danielle, milk his celebrity for all the exposure for veterans and amputee issues that he could, and then continue his trial-and-error quest to find his life’s true purpose. There had to be more to life than the heartbreak and cynicism he’d found in Miami. There had to be.

  There is, man. And she’s in Destiny Falls . . .

  ***

  “Harper, it’s me. You’re probably out having fun on your fishing trip right now. Look, uh, I know it’s cowardly for me to leave this on your voice mail, but I think it’s better this way, somehow. There aren’t any words to express how sorry I am for everything. For the way last weekend turned out, for doing you wrong at every turn throughout our relationship. You deserve better than that”—he huffed—“and you deserve better than an apology over voice mail. I know that.

  “I need you to know that I loved having you as my best friend. I loved every minute of it. And I love you. I always will. You are . . .” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “Happy birthday, baby.”

  Three days after Harper’s birthday, the night of her birthday party, she sat on the edge of her bed and listened again to the voice mail Brandon had left her on her birthday. Three days, and it hadn’t gotten any easier to hear.

  Tonight, he was getting engaged. Even though she knew that he wasn’t in love with any of the finalists and didn’t plan to remain engaged past December, the facts still stood—and they made her want to vomit. Then, in September, his season of Meet the Groom would start airing on television. She wasn’t going to torture herself by watching it. Time was too precious for that kind of toxic bullshit.

  She took out her album filled with cocktail napkins, the blank space that had previously held the contract napkin, her pledge to live every day to the fullest and to face her fears head-on. She slipped her mother’s photograph into the space and folded the clear plastic cover over it. She brushed her finger over her mother’s smile. Her mother had spent her life pining over an unobtainable man who never loved her enough to put her first. Even though her father couldn’t be bothered to visit her in her final days, she’d used her dying breaths asking Harper to tell her father that she loved him.

  Harper would never be able to look at this album, filled with list items made in Brandon’s neat, compact printing, without thinking about him or the critical role he’d played in her journey.

  So many people had moved in and out of her life in a never-ending dance of purpose and lessons. Her mother, her aunt, her father, friends, lovers, employees, neighbors. From every person who’d touched her life, on her heart she’d retained pieces of each of them and the lessons they’d offered her. Brandon had taught her about the meaning of life; he’d taught her about joy. He’d taught her how to fly and watched her take off, cheering her on the whole way as she soared into her own bright future.

  And now he’s teaching me how to say good-bye. But she was already an expert at that painful lesson. She’d learned it from her father with every deployment, and then with his death. She’d learned it from her mother, her grandmother, her aunt. She’d learned it when she’d said good-bye to her dream of having children of her own. She’d said good-bye to her breasts. And now Brandon.

  She’d said so many good-byes in her life, too many, but she was still standing tall and proud. She’d still carved out a great life for herself, surrounded by a chosen family of friends, with a world of possibility at her doorstep and the time and means to indulge in every grand adventure she wanted to.

  Now she needed to learn how to let go of all she’d lost. That, perhaps, was the most challenging lesson of all. There was nothing to be done about it except continue to try. To keep pressing forward and smiling and reminding herself of the bounty of riches her life was blessed with. Without the losses, without all her life experiences, she would’ve never found her way to this sweet spot at the intersection of reflection, gratitude, resilience, and wonder.

  A knock sounded on her bedroom door. Harper rose, but before she could say “Come in,” Presley was pushing the door open. She was dressed in her signature retro bombshell style, from her sleek black hair with thick bangs to her red lipstick and Marilyn Monroe–esque pink-and-
black halter dress.

  “Hello, birthday girl. Just wanted to let you know that the caterers are here. What do you want me to tell—” She stopped short, gaping at Harper. “Oh, wow. You look beautiful.”

  Harper agreed. She did look good. She’d opted to go flat tonight. No prosthetics or bra under her sleeveless, cerulean-blue slip dress that she’d had tailored to fit her like a second skin. She was going to wear her new shape and her scars like the badge of pride that they were. She was a survivor and survivors were beautiful.

  “Thank you. So do you. We clean up pretty good, don’t we?”

  “Are you sure you want to come help with setup?” Presley said. “You’re the birthday girl. You shouldn’t be lifting a finger for this event.”

  “Like I’ve already told you, I’m the host of the party, not the guest of honor. Everyone I invited are the guests of honor. You’re the ones who shouldn’t be here working on setup.” That was why she’d hired caterers and guest bartenders. She wanted her friends and employees alike to attend her party in their honor. She wanted to be surrounded by all the important people in her life, to thank them in the only way she knew how for their support and love. Her friends were the real VIPs of the event.

  Presley shook her head in a mild protest. “You already know how I feel about that, but whatever. Just don’t ruin that awesome dress before the rest of the guests arrive.”

  “I promise.”

  Presley checked her lipstick in the mirror near the door. “We probably shouldn’t leave the caterers hanging much longer. Ready to go downstairs?”

  Harper pressed the album cover closed. Good-bye, Brandon. I’m letting you go now. “Absolutely. I’m ready.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Brandon perched on the stool, taking care not to wrinkle his suit. He blanked his expression, then looked into Mac’s camera.

  “Tell us how you’re feeling about the final candle ceremony,” Lucinda said.

  “Today’s the final candle ceremony and I feel like I’m going to puke. It’s the moment I’ve been dreading for weeks.”

  Lucinda threw up her hands. “Really, Brandon? This isn’t the time to joke around. We’re on a strict filming schedule today because the surprise musical guest who’s coming to play at your engagement party tonight after the proposal is double-booked. We’ve got him for a very narrow window. I told you all that yesterday. There’s no time for fun and games.”

  Ah, priorities. As Harper would say, so romantic.

  Contrary to the final edits that viewers would see, the majority of filming for Meet the Groom had taken place in a soundstage, where he and the prospective brides filmed innumerable private confessional-style interviews that Brandon was beyond sick and tired of filming. The finale preparations had been particularly bad. This was his second straight day of filming confessionals, the first one being to recap his romantic getaways.

  “Don’t you ever get sick of this, Mac?”

  “No. I’m having the time of my life. Can’t you tell?” Mac said in his drollest-of-droll voices.

  The answer made Brandon grin, even though his heart was pounding out of his chest. He’d been waiting for the right moment to get some answers he needed from Mac, but the production staff had been working nonstop in preparation for the finale and he hadn’t been able to get Mac alone. Down to the wire today, it was now or never for Brandon.

  He rolled his shoulders, trying to stay loose and feign casualness. “Hey, question. Did you film any footage of me and my friend Harper last weekend, the morning she left?”

  Mac looked taken aback, so Brandon smiled, inviting confidence. “I’m not upset. Just curious.”

  Mac nodded. “I did. I know that probably pissed you off at the time, but yeah. It’s part of my job.”

  Yes, it had pissed him off at the time. “No, that’s totally cool. You haven’t deleted it, right?”

  “I don’t delete anything until the show’s done airing. A rule of mine.”

  Good. Better than good. Brandon’s heart sank with relief. “And at the club last week when the three finalists surprised me?”

  “Yes . . .”

  “And when Danielle and I were in the limo that night, then again in the plane. You still have all that footage, correct?”

  “Yeah, man. Like I said, I keep it all. Are you worried that I showed Dresdic and that’s why he’s been keeping his thumb on you? Because I didn’t.”

  “No, it’s all good. Really. I just wanted to know. Curious and all that. Even if you had told the producers, you gotta do your job, man. I totally get it.”

  “Where are you going with all these questions?” Lucinda said.

  “Nowhere. Let’s try filming that confessional question again. You’re still filming, right, Mac?”

  “Yup. Just start talking when you’re ready.”

  Looking into the camera, Brandon flashed his signature smile. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for a long time. This is the moment of truth and I couldn’t be more excited about the future. Sometimes, I feel like I was born lucky, luckier than most. I survived a bomb explosion during my deployment to Afghanistan and I was given this second chance at life that few people are granted.

  “I’ve always known that my life was spared for a reason, and because of that, I’ve done my best to live every day to its fullest. I’ve dedicated my life to being an inspiration to soldiers and amputees and anyone who’s letting something hold them back from realizing their true potential. And now, tonight, I’m hoping to inspire even more people with this next step in my life’s journey. What I want people to know is that you might be missing a leg or an arm or have an imperfect body or a disability, but we’re all deserving of love, if only we can be brave enough to take that leap.

  “Every week this show asks if love is the answer. And now I know. Is love the answer? Yes, it really is. But that has to start with loving yourself first. Living—truly living—is about loving yourself enough to believe you deserve love in return and it’s about trusting your journey, even when it takes unexpected twists that you never saw coming.”

  “Good. That’s better,” Lucinda said. “How do you feel about marriage now?” It wasn’t a real question, but a prompt for the confessional taping.

  It helped to remember that the producers and the director and everyone else involved with the show didn’t actually care about his answers beyond their capacity to slice and dice them in the editing room down to easily digestible sound bites. His true feelings and opinions were immaterial. Damn, that was jaded of him to think, but it was a lesson he’d learned well in the last two months.

  “Marriage is a new dream of mine, one that I never thought was right for myself. It’s a huge commitment that I wasn’t mature enough to consider seriously until recently.”

  “What advice do you have for your prospective brides?”

  What kind of question prompt was that? “If I were to give the finalists any advice, or any woman, for that matter, I’d tell them what I once said to a dear friend of mine. A woman shouldn’t marry a man unless she’s the center of his world. Every woman deserves a man who’ll beg them to shackle them with that proverbial ball and chain, a man who loves her so much that he can’t bear to go on living without her for one second longer.”

  “Good answer. Is that what’s going to happen tonight? Are you going to propose to one of the finalists? Remember to rephrase the question.”

  “Am I going to propose tonight?” In response to his own question, he let a sly grin spread on his lips and held it for a count of five, plenty of time for the editors to turn it into television magic. Then he leaned in to the camera, letting his features turn contemplative. “All I can say is that Danielle, Jennifer, and Winnie are incredible women. It’s been a pleasure and an honor getting to know them and meeting their families. They’ve opened their hearts to me, and I don’t take that lightly.
I respect all of them very much.”

  Lucinda frowned at that answer, which was surprising. Brandon thought he’d nailed that one.

  “Moving on. Let’s assume that you are going to propose, which would be the ideal scenario. Tell us about the woman you’re proposing to, without giving away any identifying details.”

  Tricky. He took a long moment to collect his thoughts before responding. “The woman I’ll be proposing to tonight isn’t the same person I thought it would be after meeting the prospective brides for the first time. But the more I got to know this person, the more I liked her. She’s the genuine article. A true one of a kind with a huge heart and a zest for life that everyone who meets her can’t help but admire. It isn’t every day that a man finds himself with the opportunity to get engaged to a beautiful, strong, sexy, smart woman but, as with everything else in my life, I’m a lucky man. The real question is, will she say yes?”

  Lucinda flashed him a thumbs-up. “Fantastic answer. Do you think there’s a chance that she won’t?”

  “There’s a huge chance.”

  “Try that again and start by rephrasing the question.”

  Right. Thank goodness his days of filming confessional interviews were almost over. It couldn’t happen soon enough. “There’s always a chance she won’t say yes, and to be honest, that’s got me feeling pretty jittery, like any man would. I really hope she says yes.”

  Lucinda consulted her notes. “If she says yes, then how will that make you feel?”

  God, couldn’t this part be over already? “If she says yes, then she’ll make me the happiest groom on Meet the Groom in the history of the show.” He let his smile widen, showing teeth. As an added touch, he clutched his heart. “She’d make me the happiest man in the world.”

  “Excellent. That’s a wrap for now with Brandon. Let’s get the first prospect in here to film her confessional.”

  Two hours later, Carol the wardrobe lady ran a lint roller over his tuxedo jacket in one of the guest rooms of the beachfront mansion that had been rented for the finale.