Megan sucked in a shaky breath, the kind that sounded like it scraped against every organ on its way in. “Nadia and I were in this stone church.” Her voice cracked on the name. “It was a beautiful old church with massive arches, stained glass, and these vines with cherry blossoms creeping up the stone. There were candles everywhere. Nadia was standing at the altar wearing a white satin suit. She looked gorgeous. Like an angel.”
“Angel,” Elise repeated. She immediately thought about her angel, Harper, whom she had brushed off earlier like some dust on her shoulder. Harper had made sure Elise survivedthe boat yesterday, had force-fed her bits of dried toast last night to get something in her system, and had brought her breakfast in bed this morning. She was an actual angel. Which was why Elise’s stomach was roiling at her behavior earlier. She’d practically shoved Harper into the shadows when Monica arrived and rushed off right after Monica had left, with barely even a word to Harper.
“Yes,” Megan muttered, bringing Elise back to the room. “Anyway, all of a sudden I was standing by the altar and she was walking toward me. She took my hands and said, ‘Megan, you’re the love of my life.’ And then there were doves flying in the air, and everyone was clapping. And I think Michelle Obama might’ve officiated the wedding, but the details are a little fuzzy.” A new tear slipped out, and Elise had to use every ounce of willpower not to roll her eyes. “When I woke up, I just knew I had made a mistake sending her home.”
Elise inhaled through her nose. A very big part of her wanted to reach for Megan’s shoulders and shake some sense into her.You’re a pediatric surgeon, for goodness’ sake. You basically studied for a decade and operate on tiny babies with tiny beating hearts, and now you think a dream is some kind of omen?Instead, she lightly touched Megan’s arm and said, “It’s only natural for you to feel emotionally overwhelmed right now. You’re under so much pressure, and I can see you care so much about doing the right thing.”
Megan sniffled loudly and wiped her nose with the back of her wrist.
Elise winced. She then quickly leaned over to the small rattan coffee table and grabbed a box of tissues. “Here,” she said softly, placing it on Megan’s lap.
Megan plucked one out and pressed it to her eyes. She wasn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, which thankfully meant nomascara was trailing down her cheeks. “So you don’t think it was a sign?” she whispered before blowing her nose.
Elise shook her head. “I think it was your brain trying to make sense of a rough night,” she said. Then, because she knew how to handle fragile bachelorettes, she added, “You’re allowed to doubt yourself. I’d be worried if you didn’t. But there was a reason you didn’t give Nadia a rose. I know you didn’t make the decision lightly. You’re not that type of person.”
Megan stared at the balled-up tissue in her hand. She tried to force a smile, but only more tears came out. “I feel like I’ve gone mad.”
“You’re not mad,” Elise said. Although, truthfully, Elise felt she was, in fact, acting a little mad. “You’re just human. And you’re under a microscope. It’s completely normal for you to feel this way. Everything will be fine. You made the right decision.” Had she actually? Elise had no idea. “Today is a new day, a fresh start. Remember, there are eight other contestants whom you chose to give a rose to.”
“You’re right,” Megan decided, picking up another tissue. “You’re absolutely right.”
“I am.” Of course, Elise was right. Ninety-nine percent of the time she was right. And then, for the first time since Elise had walked into Megan’s bedroom, Megan looked almost ready to stop crying.
Chapter Seventeen
Harper was used to time flying. She was also used to it moving incredibly slowly. It usually depended on whether she was waiting sixteen hours for a snow leopard to emerge from a Himalayan outcrop or sprinting across an Angolan floodplain chasing the last sliver of the golden hour. But the last five days since Elise had fully recovered from her seasick haze had disappeared in a blur so fast that she could hardly believe it.
Most days started off slow: Harper waking up beside Elise in her bed, their limbs like pretzels. Morning coffee in the kitchen followed by Elise usually kicking Harper out to get ready.
After that, the dates took up most of the day. A group date in Positano town where Harper had to follow the contestants on a Mediterranean market challenge. Thank goodness Megan had gotten over her little panic about sending Nadia home. Then there was the one-on-one date at Arienzo Beach Club, which was reached by a small shuttle boat. This was where Jamie had kissed Megan. And yes, Harper had managed to get the rest of the contestants’ shocked faces on film when they’d learned about that kiss. The day after that had been a pottery date for Tori and Megan in Positano. And the day after that had been Amelia’s turn to join Megan on a sunrise hike along the Path of the Gods.
The rose ceremonies weren’t any more relaxed. Harper had gotten a close-up of Jasmine’s tear-streaked cheeks as she climbed, rose-less, into the limo. Two nights later she’d captured the sheer shock of it when not just Kira but Eve as well had been sent home. Although, according to Elise, it shouldn’t have surprised anyone, considering it was a season tradition todouble-eliminate at least once. Not that Harper had felt much sympathy for any of the contestants. She’d been too busy coming up with ways to spend time with Elise. An early evening stroll through the lemon grove behind the villa, fingers interlaced, the air thick with delicious citrus. A bottle of wine on Elise’s tiny terrace the night after the rose ceremony, both barefoot, both pleasantly blurry around the edges as they sifted through their Namibia memories. After that, they’d fallen into bed together, naked, making slow, sweet love to each other. And last night, after Elise had sorted out some production logistics that went over Harper’s head, they’d sat on the short stone wall beside a cluster of thyme and rosemary and talked about everything and nothing.
Harper didn’t even care that Elise was still jumping every time someone showed up unexpectedly or snatched her hand away like Harper’s skin was made of an open flame whenever an assistant or Gillian or Monica walked past. She told herself it was perfectly normal for a woman who hadn’t publicly come out yet to do just that. Panic.
Except Harper was beginning to wonder if Elise was ever going to admit to herself that she was a lesbian or if she’d just keep dodging it. If someone asked, would she say, ‘No, I don’t like women actually, just Harper. She’s the exception.’
Which was fine. Perfectly fine. Why wouldn’t it be? Everyone had their own process, and it would be grossly unfair for Harper to intervene.
So she pushed down that thought and looked down at the waves crashing gently against the shore and frothing around her feet. Fornillo Beach was a short strip of smooth pebbles and pale sand, flanked by two ancient watchtowers standing like sleepy guards. The water was impossibly clear, and bright red and burnt orange umbrellas lined the curve of the shoreline.
“When you said we were going for a walk on the beach, I thought you were joking,” Elise said, kicking up a spray of seawater with her foot.
“I never joke about beach walks,” Harper replied, her face completely deadpan. “In fact, I take them very seriously.”
Elise laughed and bumped her shoulder against Harper’s, which actually knocked her off center. Her heel slid over a dip in the stones, and the next moment a wave rushed in, soaking her up to mid-calf. Served her right for wearing jeans on the beach.
Elise’s face immediately bloomed with an apology. “Sorry,” she said. “I guess I don’t know my own strength.” She looked down at her arms as if they’d done the impossible. “I’m like a Great Dane. My sister has one, and he’s constantly knocking over everything. His tail is like a whip. The other day she showed me a video of him walking right over Isabella like she was a Lego.”
Harper couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Partly because she knew Isabella was Elise’s three-year-old niece, which she only knew because Elise had told her all about her mad family over the last few days, and also because Elise’s perception of herself was adorable.
A Great Dane. Ha.
“You know you’re more like a Chihuahua, right?” Harper said, catching sight of the hairiest man she’d ever seen trying to apply sun lotion to his own shoulder. “I firmly believe everyone has a canine equivalent. Like that man over there.” She tilted her head toward where the hairy guy was sitting on the edge of a lounger beneath a burnt-orange umbrella. “He’s undoubtedly a Bernese Mountain dog.” Then, she glanced toward a woman with fuzzy blonde hair sticking up wildly. “And the lady beside him looks like a Poodle.”
Elise frowned and turned back to Harper. “Well, you’re a…” She stopped speaking and started thinking. Harper gave hera few more seconds because, seriously, how hard could it be for Elise to call it what it was? Harper was no doubt an Australian Shepherd. But then Elise said, “Pug.”
“A what?” Harper spluttered, feeling extremely offended. “You can’t be serious.”