“And cut!” Diane says. “Take a ten-minute break.”

“It does not look fine.” I push up from the table and walk away, needing some distance from Cohen and the worst challenge ever created.

As I leave the set, my head down, I bump into someone. I look up and straight into the blue eyes of Mary DIY—and I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there. Guess we’re both ready to get off the set, huh?” She gives me a quick once-over but says nothing, so I continue: “Now that I have a moment with you, I thought I would officially introduce myself. I’m Lun—”

“Harper, where are my sandals? Now!” she yells, bumping my shoulder as she steams past me, robe flapping in the breeze.

Well . . . that was rude and not exactly what I needed.

I head toward the food table, scoop up a giant cupful of unwrapped Rolos, and start plopping them in my mouth two at a time.

I’m standing to the side of craft services, staring at the ground and trying to control my frustration, when I feel someone sidle up beside me. At first, he just leans against the wall as I keep shoving Rolos into my mouth. But after a few short seconds, he finally says, “That was torture.” I glance over at Alec. He looks a little crazed. He must have run his hand through his hair after they yelled cut, because it’s wild. “I have snot on my back, my knees are aching from not being able to move for twenty minutes, and I’m pretty sure Thad’s plotting my death right now.” His gaze falls on me. “If you’re going to bark, just don’t respond.”

So I don’t.

I was able to peek over at their creations, and I really didn’t think they were that bad. I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually place today—Team Hernandez’s bouquets looked like they were ready to fall apart from the lack of floral tape.

When I don’t answer him, he nods and pushes off the wall. “Still trying to be a dog—got it.” He moves to walk away but then stops and turns back to me. “For what it’s worth, trying to describe how to create is a lot harder than you think.”

As I watch his retreating back, I can’t help the way my eyes fall to his backside, or the way I want to say something back to him. We really haven’t said much to each other since the first week. I’ve caught him looking at me here and there, but that’s about it. No other exchanges.

And sure, I’ve observed him from afar too. He’s the same infuriatingly confident guy every week. But just now, he seemed a little bit . . . off.

Is it because I’m not talking to him?

Is it the challenge itself?

This is the week when teams start to fall apart, and I can see why. It all looks so fun when you’re watching the show, but when you’re in the thick of it, the stress is so palpable you can actually taste it on your tongue.

The anger, the yelling, the miscommunications: it’s a real testament to your relationships. Mine was certainly tested with Cohen today.

And as for Team Baxter, it’s easy to see that their relationships were tested. Then again, they’ve never seemed like they were fully united. More like they’re being held together by cheap tape. Is this their breaking point?

Team Rossi in the lead. Team Hernandez trailing close behind. And Team Baxter—well, let’s just say they might have lucked out with one win.

CHAPTER TEN

ALEC

Stewing in pure irritation, I ask Thad, “Why are you crying?”

This last month has been miserable. Not only have I lost my weekends, but I’ve also had to put in extra hours during the week to make sure I can get all my casework done. I have to wake up early on Saturday and Sunday to come to this godforsaken studio, which is basically a torture chamber of crafts and challenges, each and every one of which we lose.

If this were a show that eliminates contestants, we likely would have been gone after the second week, and for sure after the wedding-attire week.

“Why am I crying?” Thad asks, wiping under his eye. Naomi went to the bathroom, which is where she spends most of her time when not filming. Morning sickness is rearing its ugly head. We even had to stop filming for a while today after she sprinted off toward the bathroom, hand over her mouth. “Maybe because we’re sucking so hard it’s embarrassing.”

“What did you expect?” I stare down at the pitiful boutonniere and bouquet we’ve put together. “We have zero experience in any of this shit.”

“I expected you to try,” Thad shoots back. “If only you’d come over this week, we could have practiced, or at least talked about it. Naomi is no help right now—the pregnancy is really taking hold of her. She’s tired, sick, or buried in the fridge, eating all of our food. I need you to be present, Alec.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” I take a seat on one of the stools at our workbench, really not in the mood for an argument.

“You’re physically here, but you’re not mentally here. You realize everything we create will be a part of the wedding, don’t you? Naomi is going to have to walk this pathetic bouquet down the aisle.” He tosses the bouquet made of feathers to the side. “She deserves better. I deserve better, more . . . more from you.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Are you?” Thad asks, tears gone now. “Because this project was also supposed to bring us closer together, make us a family again, but any chance you get, you flee. Your heart isn’t in this competition. It’s like you’re here to check a box, to say you did your brotherly duty. But what happens after the show, Alec?” Naomi walks up behind him and places her hand on his back. “What happens when the cameras turn off and we no longer have to mandatorily see each other on the weekend? Do we go back to seeing each other once every six months?”

“Come on, Thad.”

“Come on, what, Alec? It’s the truth. Ever since you left for college, it’s like you’ve forgotten I even exist.”

I glance around, at the PAs listening in on our conversation. “Now is not the time.”

“It’s never the time.” He turns on his heel and stalks off toward the green room, leaving me alone with Naomi.

Silence fills the air between us, and I can feel her disappointed gaze settle on me.

“He loves you so much, Alec. Do you realize that?”

“I love him too,” I say, pushing my hand through my hair, feeling the need to go for a run, hit the gym, expel this pent-up energy inside me.

“No, I don’t think you understand. He idolizes you.” With a finger on my cheek, she turns my head to meet her gaze. “Idolizes. On our very first date, he told me about his brother, the top-notch attorney. He told me about how you always looked out for him, how you were always there for him. On our third date, he told me about your childhood, how your parents fought constantly, but you always made their fights into something fun and took him as far away from them as possible. On our tenth date, he showed me pictures of you two at his high school graduation, how you gave him a notebook and told him to use it for his dreams in life. To write them down and figure out how to accomplish them. Do you know the first dream he wrote down?”

Hell, I don’t think I want to know.

She takes my silence as permission to continue. “Be a protector, like his brother, Alec.”

Fuck.

“Do you know what his second dream was?”

I scratch behind my ear as my heart hammers and my head fills with visions of fourteen-year-old Thad saying goodbye to me as I moved out, his shaggy brown hair rumpled, his eyes rimmed with red, silently begging me not to leave him alone. That was the first moment I ever let my brother down, when I walked away from him so I could finally be free of the anger suffocating our house.

“No,” I answer, unable to look Naomi in the eyes now.

“To find unconditional love, the kind you gave him.”

Fucking hell.

“And do you know what the third thing was?”

Have future wife torture older brother to point of a mental breakdown?

I shake my head, knowing that what she says next will probably be the final nail in the coffin.

“To have a loving marriage and never follow in his parents’ footsteps.” She pauses, letting that sink in. “This might be a joke to you. You might not believe in love or the sanctity of marriage, but Thad does, and at what point in your life did you stop caring about what he found important? From the stories he’s told me about his hero, his older brother, it seemed like never.” Naomi gives me a slow once-over and shakes her head. “But honestly, I’m unimpressed. You’re nothing like the Alec Thad talked about. I’m sad that my future husband holds you in such high regard and probably always will. Maybe take a second to think about that, instead of counting down the seconds until you’re done with this show.”

Without another word, she heads off toward the green room after Thad, leaving my heart in a lurch and putting a period on the brutal verbal smackdown she just delivered.

Naomi could give me a run for my money in the courtroom.