Page 12 of Not You Again
CHAPTER SIXKIT
It’s too damn weird having cameras in the honeymoon suite. I know they’ll leave soon, but hotel rooms are a place I generally associate with privacy and quiet. Right now, the producer is crammed into a corner of the room with a cameraman named Steve tripping over suitcases trying to get the right shot.
Andie’s hands are balled into fists, her fancy hairstyle—twisted and pinned, curled and sculpted—frizzing around the edges, when she announces she’s going to get changed into pajamas.
“Why don’t you ask her if she needs help out of her wedding dress?” Cassidy, our assigned producer, prods me as Andie steps out of the bedroom, beelining toward the bathroom.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes, asking with gritted teeth, “Do you need me to help you get out of your dress?”
She shoots me a glare over her bare shoulder. I know that look; I remember that look. If the cameras weren’t here, she’d have flipped me off for suggesting she needed my help with anything. Ever.
I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. If the cameras weren’t here, she wouldn’t be either. This is so beyond fucked; I have no idea what to do. Signing on to marry a stranger and then spend the next eight weeks being filmed up to twelve hours a day suddenly seems like the dumbest idea I’ve ever had. I’m just lucky they’ll let me keep working. My bosses don’t need to know what I’ve gotten myself into.
“Let me know if that changes, sweetheart,” I mutter around the lump in my throat that tells me I somehow fucked everything up beyond repair. I shouldn’t have been so sharp with her earlier, but she hit me below the belt.
“Not likely, honey,” Andie scoffs and picks up her skirt to disappear behind the bathroom door.
After the latch clicks, I shrug out of my suit jacket, taking care to hang it up in the closet. I know we’re only here for one night before we jet away on our honeymoon to … somewhere tropical, I guess. But I’m used to taking care of the few things that belong to me.
I shoot Cassidy a look. “You’re not going to film me undressing, are you?”
“Of course not.” She taps Steve on the shoulder and nods her head toward the living room portion of the hotel suite.
I quickly do the math in my head: I turned up at this country club to film having drinks with the other two grooms this season—Jamie and Patrick—at nine in the morning. I made it through that, confessionals, a ceremony, more confessionals, then a farce of a reception I’m sure they’ll edit into something that looks like we’re falling in love already.
It’s now after ten at night.
I read that damn contract through and through. I’ve met my minimum hours of filming requirement for the day, and I’d be surprised if Andie hadn’t. One look at the producer and cameraman assigned to us tells me they’re dead on their feet too. For as long as we’ve been filming, I know they’ve been here longer and will have more to do even after our day is done.
Clearing my throat, I tell Cassidy, “I don’t think you’re going to miss anything if you decide to leave.”
“We’re not supposed to leave until you’re ready for bed.” She yawns anyway.
I offer her a pleasant smile, the one I use to charm board members. Sometimes women at a bar. One that I know wouldn’t do a thing to win Andie over, anyway. “You’ve been watching us for the last several hours; do you really think we’re going to do more than avoid each other tonight?”
She snorts. Steve too. “No. I suppose not. But we can’t leave until you two are in bed.”
I undo the knot in my tie, chuckling in a way that says I don’t care if Andie talks to me one way or another tonight. It’s easy enough to ignore the bile climbing up my throat at the thought. “Why don’t we just call it a night? You both must be exhausted, and we’ve got a travel day ahead of us tomorrow.”
Cassidy hesitates. Steve says nothing but meets her gaze. She clenches her jaw, and he tilts his head, communicating something only they know. But with the way his eyes go soft as her shoulders slouch, I’ve got a few guesses.
I don’t know much about Andie now, but I know something about being raised by a fiercely independent and driven woman. Trying to talk her out of the notion that she could get everything on her list done today was a regular part of caring for her. Steve looks like he knows this game too.
My attention focused on my cufflinks, I ask casually, “How long have you two been together?”
Stever’s soft laughter doesn’t cover Cassidy’s gasp. I glance up and catch them lost in their silent conversation again.
Finally, Cassidy sighs and clicks off her headset, sliding it off her head. Steve knocks his headphones off his head too, removing his camera from his shoulder with a grunt as he turns it off. “Six years.”
I smile. “That’s a long time.”
“Best six years of my life, man.” Steve says it without irony or expectation. “She hated me at first too.”
Cassidy rolls her eyes. Just to show she’s not giving up, she says, “This is all very sweet, but I mean it. We need footage of you two getting ready for bed. Together.”
“Of course.” I nod my agreement, setting my cufflinks aside. With a smile, I offer, “If you need shots of us brushing our teeth together or whatever, I’ll see if I can’t talk her into it in the morning, eh?”
Cassidy shoots me a look I don’t dare cross. Steve slips his headphones back on and hoists the camera back on his shoulder.