Page 95 of Always You (A Lilac Bay Novel)

“It was awful, Beccs. We had this huge fight and now he’s acting all weird. He isn’t even here tonight,”

She frowned. “He never misses games.”

“I know. But apparently he can’t even stand to be within twenty feet of me.”

“What happened? What was the fight about? What’d he say?”

I had to look away. Somehow I knew if I made eye contact with her right now, I would burst into tears. “You were definitely wrong about that one.”

“Oh, Riley.” She sounded so sad for me, like I had missed out on something really important and I really wished I wasn’t in this field right now, surrounded by people.

Like a lifeline, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Gina,” I said, looking at the screen. I had been waiting to hear from her as we didn’t yet have any instructions for Saturday. “I should get this.”

“Sure,” Rebecca said, still sounding concerned. “We’ll talk after the game?”

I nodded before turning away, bringing the phone up to my ear.

“Hey, Gina, how’s it going?”

As soon as she opened her mouth, I knew my bad day was about to get a whole lot worse.

“It’s not going so great, Riley,” she said. “We need to talk.”

An hour later I was well on my way to getting drunk, sitting alone in my apartment with Gordie curled up in my lap.

We were out.

It still didn’t feel real. Gina told me that the voting had just been counted and we were in last for the week, meaning we were done.

“I thought you didn’t find out until the show aired,” I asked stupidly. She was kind as she explained things. Apparently the producers had access to the voting during the week and had been telling the losing towns their status this entire time, unbeknownst to us. How would we know, ensconced in our happy little bubble of those still on the show? But the production company wasn’t so stupid as to tape another new episode with a team that wouldn’t be on the air. And our non-disclosure agreements ensured that our elimination would be kept a secret until the episode aired.

Details, I thought, taking another swig of my gin and tonic. None of it really mattered. The only important thing was that we weren’t continuing. We weren’t going to win. It was all over.

I hadn’t known what to do after she ended the phone call, promising she would call to touch base in a few days. I knew I needed to tell the people in the stands, to let everyone know that we were finished. But how could I? The loss felt heavy on my shoulders. I had gotten us into this and it was my job to keep us in it. I had failed.

Thank God for Libby. She appeared at my side as soon as I put my phone away, some sixth sense tingling that something was wrong.

“We’re out,” I’d told her. “That was Gina. We got voted off.”

“Oh, Riley,” she had murmured, moving to wrap her arms around me, but I sidestepped, not at all capable of handling her sympathy and kindness. “They’re not coming to shoot on Saturday,” I said, pleased to hear that my voice was all business. “So they wanted to give us a heads up.”

“That makes sense. What can I do?”

And maybe Andrew was right about me being a coward. Because instead of facing my friends and neighbors, I turned to Libby and asked her if she would spread the word. Then I’d turned off my phone and walked straight home where I locked the door and got out the bottle of gin.

“I really screwed up, Gordie,” I told the cat. “I thought we were doing so well. Got complacent.” Clearly our voting efforts had fallen short. Why had we spent so much time on the damn Lilac Festival when we had the show to concentrate on? I thought of Cora’s bar, full to the brim, the last night of the festival, and the way she had smiled when she mentioned the tips for her waiters and immediately felt sick. This could have been so good for us.

There was a knock on the door, and Gordie immediately jumped off my lap, running into the kitchen to escape whatever danger he imagined on the other side.

“Traitor,” I muttered. I didn’t move. Whoever was out there could just go back home. I wasn’t talking to anyone. I wasn’t even going to move, at least not until I needed to make another drink, and since I still had two fingers of gin left in my glass I guess that meant I could keep comfy on the couch even if the person was knocking again.

“Riley,” a familiar male voice called through the door. “Come on, let me in.”

Andrew. Great. The absolute last person that I wanted to talk to right now.

“Riley James, you let me in or I’ll just use my key.”