Kiss and Confess (Love Unscripted Book 1) (22 page)

Luke, Tasha, and Jen remained where they were, as they had agreed to before the show. It was the longest four minutes of Luke’s life, but this was what he had signed up for.

At last, Rob got the signal and they were back on the air. Cameras locked in close-ups on each of the contestants’ faces.

“We’ve decided to change the rules up, just a little,” Rob said, stretching out dramatic pauses for all he was worth. “And we’re going to offer
additional
prize money—$150,000 each—to the couple who will take that leap of faith our viewers are looking for and…” He nodded at the contestants and everyone in the audience. “…get married right now, on this stage.”

Dead silence. Then squeals of anticipation from the audience.

“Sometimes you have to take a bold step to make things work,” Rob said. “Arranged marriages were successful for a long time in some cultures, but they took time, and commitment, to reach their potential. Maybe our remaining two couples haven’t given their relationships the same attention and they need an incentive to do that.”

Luke held his breath. If somebody didn’t go for this, they would have to fill the time with a prepared clip of outtakes from the season. He was betting on Michael and Brittany. Michael wanted to open a gym of his own, and as for Brittany, she just liked money.

Both were shallow enough to do this on live TV and figure they’d then get it annulled. One thing they didn’t know—they’d have to sign a contract binding them to an actual ceremony, with licenses, next week. And they’d have to stay married for at least a year or return the money.

As for Marc and Charley…not a possibility he wanted to think about. He’d already warned her not to believe in anything this show had to offer. None of it mattered in real life.

“It’s true, folks,” Rob went on. He swept his hand toward the chairs behind him. “As you can see, this isn’t something our contestants saw coming. But they can still win this prize. We’ll take the first couple that agrees. And in case you’re wondering, yes, we
are
prepared for a wedding. A wedding that everyone in this audience is invited to. Contestants,” he said to the four, “if you will kindly move your chairs to the right side of the stage?”

It took them a minute, but they did as he asked and then again took their seats, each looking shell-shocked.

A second curtain parted to reveal an altar elaborately decorated with white flowers and flanked by urns of green shrubs; a minister dressed in black and holding a bible; and two rows of white chairs facing the altar for the remaining contestants and any family members of the nearly-happy couple who might be in the audience.

On cue, a production assistant stepped to the altar and rolled out a white runner. A second assistant dropped red rose petals along it and lit tall white candles that had been set up on the table.

“It’s so pretty,” Brittany said, her eyes wide with wonder. She looked at Michael as though seeing him for the first time.

“Backstage,” Rob continued, “we have a wedding dress and a tux in each contestant’s size.”

Ooooohhh
, the audience murmured appreciatively.

“And of course, what would a wedding be without a cake and toasts?”

One PA rolled out a giant, six-tiered wedding cake while two more trailed him with a bucket of champagne and gold-rimmed glasses.

The audience clapped.

It’s working, Luke thought. The deflection’s working. We have our audience back.

“Now we only need to know who it is who will stand up there. Oh. I forgot to mention one thing. The winning couple will
also
receive a two-week, all-expenses-paid honeymoon at a five-star resort in Bali.”

A collective gasp from the audience.

“Right?” Rob asked them. “We may need a photo finish to see who volunteers first. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll be right back.”

An all-clear signal and Jonathan strode out onstage. He addressed himself to the four contestants. “Like he said, the first couple to agree gets the prize money. At this point, I don’t care if it’s the couples you’re in now or you mix it up. We have papers to sign for you backstage, but that won’t take long. Talk amongst yourselves, you have two minutes to decide. Two minutes, people. Take your mics off. The whole world doesn’t need to hear what you’re saying.”

Luke watched as the contestants ripped off their mics. Brittany and Michael began frantically whispering in each other’s ear. Marc was talking to Charley. Charley was listening.
Shit.

This was a stupid idea. Luke never should have agreed to it. The promise of money caused people to make crazy decisions. If he rooted for them to do the right thing, though, this show would be a failure. And cancelled. He’d have trouble getting another job.

If he rooted for them to go for it, he’d be disgusted, but the ratings would soar. They’d likely get renewed for another season. He’d have a job.

Some days, the world sucked.

Jen plucked at his sleeve. “What do you think? Will either of them do it?”

“Don’t know.”

Jonathan walked back onstage. “Time’s up. Who’s doing this?”

Brittany’s hand jabbed upward, but before she could say anything, Marc swooped in to shout, “We are!”

Luke’s feet became lead weights. His legs wouldn’t move. His mouth wouldn’t open. He could process only one thought—
no, Charley, no
—and that was in slow motion.

He waited for her to correct Marc, to say there was no way she would marry him. But she only smiled. It was a tiny smile, wobbling at the corners, but the important part was that she didn’t correct Marc.

She was doing this.

Luke watched his hopes of redeeming himself, irrational as they were, circle a virtual drain.

“Good,” Jonathan said, giving no indication of what had to be his massive relief. He signaled to Rob. “Charley and Marc. We’re doing this.”

A few seconds, or a few minutes later, Rob announced what was to happen. Or Luke was pretty sure he did. All of a sudden, Rob’s voice sounded like the wah-wah in the old Charlie Brown cartoons.

Charley’s feet, legs, arms, and heart felt numb as she followed Tasha backstage. It should have been Luke taking her backstage; why wasn’t it Luke? She tried to ask Tasha. The words must have come out somewhat intelligible as Tasha said Luke was busy with something else.

Something else. He was going to let this happen?

Charley was shown into a dressing room and immediately sank into a chair along the wall. She couldn’t get married.

But this had been at least half her idea. When Marc had leaned over to her during the two-minute decision time, he’d said that he was sorry, so very sorry, but he wanted to give Mila another chance. He didn’t want to hurt Charley’s feelings, but Mila was in the theater audience. That had to be a sign.

Her feelings had breathed a huge sigh of relief.

It would take something drastic, though, Marc had admitted, for Mila to ignore her best friend’s lie. He wasn’t absolutely sure Mila would want another chance with him.

What happened next was still foggy. Some demonic part of her made its inaugural appearance to suggest to Marc that, if he got up there to say his vows to her, Mila would be moved to stop him. Any girl who sobbed in a hallway after secretly watching his parents meet another woman’s parents cared. A lot. And then the show could let
that
wedding take place. On the stage.

It was a crazy idea that had to work.

Except, now as she sat here thinking about it, she saw the flaws in the plan they’d made in two minutes. Marc had gone along with it, thinking Mila would be sure to intervene. Charley didn’t know Mila well enough to know. After all, the woman had hidden her misery in a hallway.

Charley’s plans, whether well-intentioned or demonic, almost never worked, come to think of it. Look at how well things had gone with Luke. She buried her head in her hands.

Tasha came barreling through the door, holding a white wedding dress high above her head. “Don’t mess up your makeup. We don’t have time to fix it.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Tasha lowered the dress and carefully spread it flat across chairs on the other side of the room. She set a stack of papers on a table and then came over to Charley and grasped her hands, holding on tight as she knelt before her. “It’s a big deal, I know. But trust me, the less you think about it, the better.”

“What?” Charley shook her head, not sure she’d heard right.

“You said yes to Marc. On live TV. Think how horrible that would be for him if you were to back out now. You’re not a person who backs out of your promises, are you? Because I don’t think you are, but I don’t know. Maybe you are.”

“No.” Her voice sounded distant, far away.

“We need this.” Tasha squeezed Charley’s fingers tighter. “If we say there’s going to be a wedding and there isn’t one, none of us are going to see a job in this business again. Not me, Jen, Jonathan or,” she paused, “Luke.”

Charley looked up at her, her eyes filling.

“He isn’t going to be there for you, Charley. I’ve known Luke for a few years now. He dates a lot of girls. He doesn’t stay with any of them.”

“But—”

“It isn’t in his DNA. If you really think you’re going to end up with him, then you’re only going to get hurt.” She released her hold on Charley and stood. “Marc’s a great guy. You could have a really nice life.” She picked up the papers she’d left on the table and turned back to Charley. “If, after a wonderful, and
free
, trip to Bali, you decide differently, you’ll still have the prize money. No harm, no foul.”

Oh, there’d be harm. And a whole lot of foul. To her self-esteem, if to nothing else.

“Come on. Seriously. We only have an hour show.” She pulled a pen from the top of her ear. “Just a couple of quick signatures, we get you into your dress and shoes, put a bouquet in your hand, and you’re ready to go.”

Charley had never felt more miserable, or more trapped, in her life.

She took the pen from Tasha and signed where the sticky arrows pointed. “What is this?” she asked as a tear fell on the white paper, spreading into a broad, damp circle.

Tasha hesitated.

Charley looked up at her.

“Sorry. Thinking of something else. We have to make sure all your information is right. For the license. You’ll need to get the license and have a real ceremony next week.”

“This isn’t a real ceremony?”

“Right. You won’t legally be married until you have a ceremony performed. The minister out there is a TV guy.”

That helped. A little. As long as Marc also knew.

“Okay.” She didn’t see what other choice she had. And this had been her idea, flawed as it was.

It took only a few minutes for her to be zipped into the dress, white lace with a sweetheart neckline and a long, flowing skirt. She slipped her feet into the shoes that Tasha pushed into Charley’s hands then accepted the bouquet of white roses, tied with a red ribbon. Balancing on her tiptoes, Tasha fastened a simple pearl necklace around Charley’s throat.

“Hey, you look great,” Tasha said as she opened the door and motioned Charley through it. “This will be fun.”

Just what she’d always wanted to be told on her wedding day.
Hey, you look great. This will be fun.

But then, she hadn’t expected a live televised production, either.

She followed Tasha down the hallway. With each step, she repeated the same silent plea.
Please make Mila stop this. Please make Mila stop this.

When they reached the wings, Tasha held her back, waiting for the countdown to live and on air. Three, two, one… She gave Charley a push in the small of her back and there she was, walking toward her father, who stood with his arm crooked toward her, dressed in a tux that looked too tight, giving her a pained, anguished stare. She took his arm and he led her to the edge of the white runner. Marc waited at the end, next to the TV guy playing a minister.

“Charley and Marc, everyone,” Rob announced, his voice way too cheery.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, please make Mila stop this.
Could you pray that someone be forced to do something?

She and her father took the first step down the runner. Organ music appeared out of nowhere. He looked at her, a different plea in his eyes.
Don’t do this
, his eyes said.

It’s not real
, her eyes said. But it felt real. And it didn’t feel right. She was going to be married on national television. To a man she thought of as a friend, not a lover. In a wedding dress she hadn’t chosen. Walking on rose petals she was smashing into a white runner.

They passed her mother and Brett, sitting uncomfortably on the white chairs. Brett’s face was screwed up so fierce, he had tears in his eyes. Her mother had a calming hand on his arm. She looked sad. And not in a good,
oh isn’t this wonderful, I’m so happy-sad that my daughter is getting married
way.

They reached the altar and her father gave her a reluctant kiss on the cheek, squeezing her hand so hard she temporarily lost feeling in her fingers before he released her and left to sit next to her mother.