Page 82 of Made for You
I should’ve let it go.
“So ever since we signed a Synth as one of our contestants, we knew there would be controversy,” says Matt. “How are you two feeling about entering the real world? Exposing yourself to the opinions of...well, everyone!”
Ugh. Entering the real world. A bitter comeback springs to mind about how if we all admit reality TV isn’t real, maybe we should rename it fantasy TV. But I brush the thought away. This question was on the list, thank God, so I already have an answer that avoids dragging in our baggage with Josh’s mom.
“We’re feeling great.” Josh seems completely sincere, like there are no issues at all. Like he didn’t punch a hole in our drywall two weeks ago, after I told him I’d tried calling his mom myself and left her a couple voicemails.
“Stay out of it, Julia. You’re just going to fuck things up. Why did you think that was a good idea, huh? Why? I already told you this is between my mom and me.”
The next day, he quietly spackled over the hole. Now, there’s no evidence of it. Just like there’s no evidence right now, in his light expression and easy talking, that his mom’s rejection of me, and of him, has stabbed him in the heart, deep, someplace not even I can reach.
I can only hope that when she finds out she’s going to be a grandma, she’ll start picking up the phone.
Matt is skilled and suave, and the questions tick right along as scheduled. During the commercial breaks, we drink bottled water and makeup people powder our foreheads. At one point, Josh and I go backstage and Camila comes out. She squeezes my hand as we pass in the wings. I mouth, Bitch, and she mouths it back. Then Josh goes out, and he and Cam talk. I watch them from the wings as they laugh, and she touches his arm, and he touches hers, and she gets a little teary-eyed, and Josh hugs her. I’m used to the little flame of jealousy sputtering in my gut when I see them together, but it’s small, and easy to ignore in the face of my absolute trust of Camila. She’s been really open with me about her brokenhearted departure from the show, and also so sincerely enthusiastic in her support of us. Which I know will probably never make sense to anyone who hasn’t been through the experience we have. But we don’t need anyone else to understand.
Finally, I join them, and Cam and I answer questions about our own unlikely “hate to love” journey and whether she really thinks a Synth-human marriage will work.
It’s nearing the end when Matt finally gives my prompt.
“So it’s time for a surprise announcement. I’d like to give the floor to Julia for this incredibly special surprise, and a first in Proposal history.”
I grab the book from the side table and turn a little on the love seat to face Josh. Cam and Matt are watching from their individual chairs.
“So, Josh, I have something in here that you might like to see.” I open the cover. It’s a false book, with a hole. I take out the white stick and hand it over fast, so the cameras don’t catch on to the trembling in my fingers.
He takes it. And freezes.
In reality, he’s only frozen for probably two seconds. But in my heart, it’s an eternity longer.
In those two seconds, I read everything that’s going on inside Josh:
He’s shocked.
He’s embarrassed to be shocked.
He’s angry that I surprised him in front of all these people.
His eyes flicker; something intense sparks.
Then, he smiles, and my entire body sags with relief, because my read was wrong; he’s not angry after all, and it’s going to be okay.
“Julia!” He flings his arms around me. “This is the best surprise ever.” There’s applause, there’s confetti, there’s music. We’re all standing up, and Cam is hugging us, screaming, “Can I be the godmother? Oh my God, you guys! You’re having a baby!”
Then Matt is asking how far along I am, and if this is a Fantasy Suite baby, but I demur, because I feel like it’s the right move to preserve some level of secrecy.
When the show is finally over, Josh finds me in my dressing room. He shuts the door, leans his back against it, and we look at each other from across the space. I’m on top of the world, and I open my mouth to say so when he cuts in.
“What the fuck, Julia? A baby?”
I struggle to steady myself even though it feels like my entire world is tilting. Why can’t I seem to get a handle on my fiancé’s emotions?
“I thought you’d be excited,” I say, determined to remain outwardly calm and ride this out.
He groans and leans his head back, gently banging it against the door. “Please tell me this kid wasn’t conceived in the fucking Fantasy Suite.”
I swallow and don’t answer.
“You didn’t think to use protection?” He’s looking at the ceiling.