One To Watch (26 page)

“Hey, Bea—you haven’t seen Nash and Cooper, have you?”

Lauren’s tone was casual, but Bea could see she was somewhat frantic.

“Sorry, I haven’t.” Bea shook her head. “Did you check around the side of the house, where the maple grove is? The property extends further than you think over there, maybe they went for a walk?”

“I’ll check that out—thanks!”

Lauren headed that way, and Bea closed her eyes. Great. As if it weren’t stressful enough bringing ten men home to meet her family, now two of them had taken off entirely? And unlike the first night, this wasn’t Lauren’s doing; this was just Nash and Cooper deciding they’d had enough of even pretending to be interested in dating Bea. Not that she was remotely interested in either of them, obviously—but it still stung to know their disappearance (and the producers’ subsequent search for them) would certainly be yet one more humiliating plotline on this week’s episode.

Add it to the list,
Bea thought, mentally ticking them off: The man who walked off on the first night. All the men who didn’t, but who were shocked and horrified to meet her. The myriad horrors of the boat. And worst of all, Asher lulling her into believing, just for a second, that any of this could be real.

But what about Sam?
a small voice fired back.
What about Wyatt?

Bea scanned the yard and saw that Sam and Wyatt were both embroiled in a high-stakes game of capture the flag along with a couple other guys and several of the older kids. Sam broke into a grin and waved to Bea when he saw her watching—she felt a pang in her gut as she waved back. She wanted so badly to believe that this was possible for her, that she could have a husband and children and easy Sunday gatherings like this one.

But everything inside her told her that she couldn’t.

“Bea, may I steal you for a moment?”

Per usual, Bea felt an involuntary lurch of attraction when she saw Luc, who looked perfect in strategically rumpled slacks and a white button-down. He had two glasses of rosé in hand—the man knew how to make an entrance.

“Of course.” Bea smiled, trying to shove aside her stormy thoughts and enjoy her time with a man who might not be genuinely interested in her, but who at least seemed to genuinely take pleasure in her company.

Bea hadn’t spent any one-on-one time with Luc since the night of the crème brûlée and their kiss—she remembered how comfortable she felt with him as they walked over to a patio area near a tall oak tree, where they sat on an outdoor loveseat. Bea’s fuchsia Mara Hoffman sweater dress was warm and soft, the wine was cool and fresh, and everything felt tactile as Luc slid his arm around her waist.

“I have missed you,” he said softly. “Is that ridiculous to say? I know it hasn’t been long.”

“It feels like it’s been a long time.”

“Ah, but for you it feels long because you have seen so many men, done so many things. For me it feels long because I have thought only of you.”

Bea rolled her eyes. “Come on, that’s not true.”

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, his lips lingering near her ear. “You have no idea how dull it was in that house.”

“Hey! How’s it going?” Bea’s brother Jon broke the moment as he plopped down in a chair across from them.

“Good.” Bea cleared her throat. “This is Luc—Luc, meet my oldest brother, Jon. Luc is a chef from France.”

The two men shook hands. “France, huh? Hope you’re not too bored here in unglamorous Ohio.”

“Where I come from, in Normandy, is not so different from this.”

“Is that true?” Bea asked. “You come from the countryside?”

“Yes, I grew up near a city called Rouen, north of Paris, not far from the coast? You may know it as the city where Joan of Arc was burned at the stake.”

“Oh, so you guys have cool progressive ideas about women.”

“
Exactement
.” Luc laughed, and Jon looked brightly from him to Bea.

“You two seem to be getting along. You like each other?”

Bea flushed red and shot her brother a dirty look.

“I cannot speak for Bea,” Luc replied, “but yes, I like her very much.”

“What do you like about her?”

“Jon!”

“What?”

“That’s a ridiculous question!”

“What’s a ridiculous question?” Tim ambled over in his truly ridiculous sweatpants.

“Luc just said he likes Bea, and I was asking why,” Jon explained as Tim helped himself to a seat. “He’s French,” Jon added with rather more distaste than necessary.

“Ugh, guys, can we not?” Bea protested.

“Are you embarrassed by this?” Luc turned to Bea.

“Yes, obviously.”

“Why should you be? I am not embarrassed to say that I like very much your wit, and your company, and the way you get warm in your face anytime you’re annoyed, like you are with me now.” He ran a finger along her cheek, and she laughed and sighed in exasperation. Luc turned back to Jon and Tim.

“I also like that she is beautiful. And a very good kisser.”

“Come on, man.”

“She’s our sister!”

Bea laughed, and Luc kissed her to prove his point—just a quick kiss, but something about the effortlessness of it knocked Bea over. After all the years of watching her brothers with their girlfriends and then their wives, all the hundreds of meaningless, easy, casual kisses, this was the first time any man had kissed Bea in front of her family.

The moment lingered in Bea’s mind as a producer escorted her to the drinks table to film a conversation with Jefferson—he’d apparently raided Bob and Sue’s meager liquor cabinet, and was mixing himself some sort of elaborate cocktail.

“Hey, there she is!” He broke into a wide smile as Bea approached. “Can I fix you a classic gin fizz?”

“I don’t understand how you found all these ingredients in my parents’ house,” Bea marveled as Jefferson handed her a frothy lemon-tinged drink in one of Sue’s antique glasses.

“Just gin, lemon, sugar, soda, and egg white,” Jefferson ticked off the ingredients.

“What’d you do with the yolk?” Bea asked, remembering the feel of eggs slipping through her fingers as Luc stood behind her.

“I tossed the yolk in a flower bed.” Jefferson grinned. “The nutrients are good for the plants.”

“Wow, so you’re a bartender and a gardener.” Bea smiled, thinking how much Bob would enjoy that particular fun fact. “If my parents find out, they’ll want you to stay forever.”

“Really? You think so?” Jefferson’s voice trailed off and he looked away from her, his eyes scanning across the yard, a faint smile on his face. Bea couldn’t tell what he was thinking—but then he turned back toward her, and he looked emotional.

“You know, it’s been really cool to be here, meet everyone,” he said. “Because all this—the house, the yard, the kids, everybody getting together and just having a good time? That’s exactly what I want, you know? And I guess—what I want to know is if you want it too.”

Bea felt a pang in her gut:
Yes,
she wanted to scream,
I want this more than you could possibly imagine.
But the idea of saying that out loud—in this place, surrounded by these men, under the judgmental stares of millions of eyes—felt terrifying. Like giving voice to this secret piece of herself would allow everyone in the world to tell her just how foolish she was for wanting something so laughably out of reach.

“Hey.” Jefferson stepped toward her, his voice low. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Bea murmured, shaking her head. “It’s just—I love my family so much, you know? It makes me really happy that you like it here.”

Jefferson reached for Bea’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured.

Bea looked up at him, confused. “You do?”

“Yeah.” He laughed gently. “That surprises you?”

“I guess it does, a little,” she admitted.

“Well, then that’s on me for not making my intentions more clear.”

“Your intentions?”

“Bea”—he leaned in—“I think you’re awesome.”

For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but he laughed again instead.

“I’m sorry, I feel super weird about our first kiss being in front of your entire family and all these kids.”

“Yeah, understandably.” Bea laughed too.

“But next week?” He gazed into her eyes. “I hope?”

“That’s really what you want?”

“It is,” he asserted. “I hope you believe me.”

Bea honestly couldn’t tell whether she was lying or not when she assured him that she did.

Feeling dazed and overwhelmed, Bea wasn’t sure where to go next. She saw her parents hanging out by the food, but the idea of enduring her mother’s earnest questions about which of these men she planned to marry was more than she could bear. So she wandered toward the capture-the-flag game instead, where two of her sisters-in-law, Carol and Tina, were watching by the sidelines. But she stopped short as she approached and heard what they were discussing.

“I
certainly
don’t know what Asher was playing at,” Tina quipped, “leading Bea on and then pulling away.”

“She seemed so upset, poor thing,” Carol said kindly.

“Wouldn’t you be?” Tina took a big drink of wine. “She finally goes out on a limb for one of these guys and he just leaves her there alone! I would have quit the show then and there.”

You and me both,
Bea thought bitterly. She took a step back—and nearly slammed right into her third sister-in-law, Julia, who looked chic as always in a black boatneck sweater, cropped jeans, and her signature red lipstick. She was carrying her baby, Alice, who was bundled in a soft blanket and sleeping like a perfect angel.

“Oh crap!” Bea exclaimed as quietly as she could so as not to wake the baby. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“Moms with sleeping infants are real ninjas that way.” Julia winked. “You want to walk with me? The movement keeps her calm.”

“I’d love that,” Bea agreed, grateful to have an uncomplicated feeling for the first time all day—and equally grateful that their camera crew was filming them from ten feet away to give them at least the illusion of privacy. “How’s it going with her? Are you guys getting any sleep?”

“Believe it or not, I’m getting more than Duncan,” Julia confided. “He’s working so hard to keep the house in order so that I can focus on the baby, so protective of my time and energy.”

“Duncan?” Bea raised an eyebrow. “My
brother
Duncan?”

Julia laughed. “He’s come a long way since the days of railing against the anthropological farce of the American nuclear family.”

“Oh my God.” Bea rolled her eyes. “Honestly, who let him go to college?”

“No good came of it, that’s for sure.” Julia grinned. “It’s funny now, but at the beginning of our relationship, I was sure we’d never be long-term because he was so closed off and defensive, all his anti-marriage shtick.”

“Seriously?” Bea was incredulous. “It was obvious to me how crazy he was about you from day one.”

“Maybe,” Julia said with a shrug, “but he was also terrified of being vulnerable, of letting me in to the point where I could really hurt him. Anytime I tried to have a conversation with him about something real, he would make it into a joke or change the subject. It finally got so intolerable that I broke up with him.”

“
What?
” Bea was aghast. “How is it possible I never knew about this?”

“He came around pretty quickly,” Julia explained, “once he realized that he was only hurting himself preemptively, denying himself a relationship that could make him really happy. And I wonder … Bea, I hope you won’t get upset with me for saying this, but watching you, these past few weeks, I have to wonder if you aren’t going through something similar.”

“What do you mean?” Bea was genuinely puzzled. “If anything, the problem here is that none of these men wants me.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s definitely not true. What about Luc and Sam? And Asher, most of all?”

“I think Asher made it abundantly clear that he’s not attracted to me.” Bea sniffed.

“Yes he is.” Julia was thunderstruck. “I saw the look on his face when you were dancing. Whatever the reason he pulled away—I promise you, Bea, it isn’t that.”

“Then …” Bea looked at Julia, full of confusion. “Then why?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Julia answered. “But I think that question misses the point.”

“What do you mean?”

“On this show,
you’re
the one in charge. For three weeks, we’ve watched you freaking out that these men might not want you, when the entire show is structured around your decision of whether you want them. All this misery and self-effacement, I’m sorry, Bea, but it’s this version of you that Duncan and I don’t even recognize. You’re so poised, and self-possessed, and completely wonderful—how is it possible that these men you don’t even know are able to unmoor you in this way?”

Bea’s throat felt suddenly tight, and she struggled to find words—some words, any words. She stared blankly across the yard, when she saw Duncan talking with Asher, seemingly deep in conversation. A screen door slammed, and Asher looked up—he caught Bea’s eye as she was staring right at him, and her stomach jolted as she quickly looked away. After a moment, she looked back, and Asher was still there, gazing at her. He lifted a hand in greeting. Bea could barely make herself nod in return.

“Bea,” Julia said gently, “what do you want? Is it really such a scary question to answer?”

Bea’s head was swimming. She’d been so sure that staying professional on this show had been the right decision—to prioritize her goals for her career, just as she’d always done before. But when she thought of all the nights lying alone, longing for Ray, when she thought of the vicious lie that had been swirling in the recesses of her brain since high school, that she was too fat and too ugly ever to have the kind of love that seemed to come so easily to her family and friends, when she thought of how badly she’d wanted Asher to kiss her in that museum, and how terrified she felt that admitting her desires could only compound her humiliation, but, on the other hand, that
not
admitting them could seal her fate of being alone forever … It suddenly felt like she was only fighting against herself, and there was no possible way to win.