Page 89 of Unscripted

“Well, we have some new Bellas in the villa now,” she said, clearing the emotion out of her throat. “It seems there are conversations to be had and introductions to be made, so I’ll let you all get to it.”

She looked around at us one more time before flipping her hair over her shoulder and turning around to face a camera that had been hidden in the bushes at the edge of the deck. As she did, I saw that two producers who had been in the villa hovering near Cecilia earlier were now walking out into the garden. Production never came out here, but it was a big night and a big show to continue to produce. I assumed that shouting directions from the speakers would slow things down.

Gemma began to say a few lines into camera, wrapping up the show for the evening. “To all of you watching at home, I hope you’ve enjoyed this dramatic night. Make sure to tune in tomorrow to catch the fallout. For now, I’m your host, Gemma Row. Have a good night.”

She nodded at the camera, staring across at it with her signature smirk until one of the producers called out “Cut!” She sagged a bit at the word. We all did, actually. It had been a draining night, one that was only just starting. We’d all have to talk about everything for the next few hours.

The same producer stepped forward and spoke directly to us. “Bellas, can you please stay seated. No discussing any events of the night yet. We need to break down the extra cameras, and then the girls and guys can separate for group debriefings. Gemma, you’re wrapped for the night.”

Gemma nodded at him and walked across the garden and out of the villa, not sparing any of us a second glance.

A few people from the camera department appeared in the yard, and it was then I realized that the villa’s standard hidden cameras weren’t the only ones used to get the perfect shot. There were other, bigger cameras installed all over the place; up trees, on top of umbrellas. There was even one that was, somehow, in the fire pit. I didn’t really understand what more cameras could capture that the hidden ones didn’t, but I didn’t have it in me to care or be interested in anything production-related at the moment.

I looked over at Chiara, sitting just a few people over from me. She was staring into the fire, clearly trying to keep it together. She looked up and caught my eye.

It’ll be okay, I mouthed to her.

She nodded and went back to staring into the fire.

I sighed and looked over at Callum.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling softly.

“Hey,” I whispered back.

“I missed you,” he breathed out, so quiet that I thought for a moment I might have made it up.

A thrilling jolt ran through me, settling into my stomach, which was fluttering in response to his confession, and I was suddenly hyper aware of every square inch of my skin that was pressed up against him.

He’d only said three words, but the relief of hearing those specific words, of knowing he cared enough to have missed me, was overwhelming.

It was joy and solace and bliss, and I wanted to hear him say it again and again and again.

I leaned closer to him and whispered back, “I missed you too.”

We didn’t say anything more. We didn’t need to, not quite yet. Instead, we sat there, holding onto each other until the crew cleared out and the villa had been restored to its normal state. The producers went back to their little hut across the driveway, and we were all alone once more.

When they at last called out through the hidden speakers that we could start debriefs, Callum squeezed my hand.

“I’ll find you later,” he said. I nodded at him and squeezed his hand back.

I had to comfort my friend, to be there for her while she was hurting. But I was happy, secretly thrilled, that there would be a later with Callum.

I was looking forward to it.

39

Hours later, we were still in the garden, going round and round rehashing the events of the evening. The fallout from Chateau Desire was far from being wrapped up anytime soon.

Billy, single once Samantha matched with Louis, decided that he no longer wanted to stay in the villa, packed his bag and left, leaving Samantha in a heap of guilty tears. Ella, Olivia, and I took turns rotating between sitting with her and Chiara for most of the cocktail party.

Chiara, at least, was taking Hugh’s rejection in stride. She had cried for about an hour straight, but after copious amounts of girl talk and dissecting everything he’d done over the past four weeks, she’d come to realize that maybe she had pinned too much on him.

“I think it was why I was such a mess these last few days,” she said to me as we sat, just us two, on the pool loungers. “I think I knew, deep down, that our connection wasn’t as strong as I wanted it to be. That I was trying to convince myself it was more so it would fit the perfect love story I wanted so badly.”

“Just don’t discredit your feelings because of what’s happened,” I replied. “You two had a real connection. Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be the kind of love that you want. Or deserve.”

We sat in silence for a while longer, both exhausted from the night until Chiara was called away to film her confessional.