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Jemma staggered through the apartment door. Her feet throbbed with each step, her back begged for a rest, and her hands stung from harsh cleaning chemicals.
“Hey, Gramma. Mr. Chan.”
Miriam tilted her head in mute acknowledgment, her eyes never leaving the television set. As her grasp on the world loosened, she sank deeper and deeper into the fantasies beaming to her through the screen. Jemma wished she could get rid of the damn thing, force Miriam to pay attention to what was going on around her, help her cling to reality a while longer. But she couldn’t snatch away the one activity that soothed Miriam, no matter how bad the day.
“Hello, Jemma.” Mr. Chan rose to his feet, giving a small bow in greeting.
“Thanks for staying with her. I didn’t want to pass on the extra hours.”
“My pleasure.” He patted Miriam’s shoulder. “I’m going now, Miriam. Jemma’s home.”
“Shhh,” she said irritably. “The show’s already started.”
He smiled politely with closed lips, said goodbye to Jemma, and left. The first time he’d stayed with Miriam she offered to pay him. He made it clear in no uncertain terms she had insulted him, and she’d rushed to apologize. She was careful not to ask him to stay too often, afraid to test his goodwill.
After twelve hours of changing sheets stained with unmentionable body fluids, washing threadbare towels smelling of mildew no matter how much bleach she used, and scrubbing toilets corroded with decades of shit, all she wanted was to soak in a shower and fall into bed.
“Jemma, sit!” Miriam commanded. “Where have you been? You didn’t forget the finale is tonight, did you?”
Her shoulders, already drooping from the merciless day, slumped further. “No, Gramma, I haven’t forgotten.” It had been one reason she’d taken the extra shift. She’d hoped to dull the anguish of knowing tonight was the last time she’d see Paul’s face. It had partially worked. She was exhausted and strung out, but the labour hadn’t made her forget that tonight the man she loved was going to propose marriage to another woman.
“I have to have a shower. I’m filthy.”
Miriam looked at her in a panic. “But you’ll miss more of the show!”
“I’ll be as quick as I can.” She hadn’t had a long, luxurious shower in weeks. “Don’t move, okay? You don’t want to miss anything yourself.”
She lingered under the hot water a smidge longer than normal, trusting Miriam’s devotion to Reservations for Two would keep her in her seat, then toweled off rapidly and squeezed water out of her hair. The bright pink at the tips of her bangs had faded to a sickly pastel, and long strands tickled her neck, but she couldn’t justify the expense of a cut and colour. Soon she’d hack at it with scissors herself.
Shuffling through the kitchen she grabbed a can of pop and flopped onto the couch. On the screen, impossibly handsome men and women lounged beside an impossibly beautiful pool while showing off their impossibly white teeth, advertising alcohol or toothpaste or clothing. Jemma didn’t know and didn’t care. She tucked her feet up, sliding them comfortably inside the baggy cuffs of her ragged sweats.
Miriam happily filled her in on what she’d missed. “Sappho and Yvonne both have to make a three course meal for Paul. They have to set the scene for a romantic dinner. You missed Yvonne’s. Paul was polite, of course, but he didn’t seem too impressed.”
Jemma wondered if Paul ever thought of her. He’d tried to get hold of her after she’d left the show, when she was bitter and grieving and angry, but had given up after a few days.
He was probably over his infatuation with her by now. She couldn’t believe he still loved her, wouldn’t believe it, or she might shatter into pieces. She stifled a squirm of embarrassment when she thought of how little she’d done to deserve his affection. She’d snarked and complained and pushed him away, and yet he’d looked past all that. He’d seen her, seen inside her, shown her wants and desires she hadn’t known she had.
Not that it mattered, now.
When the commercial break ended, she stared at the screen, but did her best to blank out her vision. If she concentrated, she should be able to think of something, anything else, while fooling Miriam into believing she was paying attention.
This disconnect helped her through Paul’s date with Sappho. But when the final segment began, she couldn’t sustain it. These were the last few minutes she would ever see him. She had to watch.
Paul and Calynn sat in their low leather chairs. Jemma blocked her ears to what Paul was saying, trying to absorb the rumble of his voice without hearing the words that would bring her so much pain. She studied his face hungrily. Had he lost weight? The clefts in his cheeks seemed sharper, the lines radiating from his warm brown eyes deeper. When the video cut to a close-up she balled her hands into fists to quell the ridiculous urge to touch the screen.
Sappho and Yvonne appeared through an arched trellis, insipidly festooned with white roses, pearly tulle, and fairy lights. Paul joined the two women, and she forgot everything else in the masochistic urge to learn which one he had chosen.
“These last few weeks have been an amazing experience,” he said. The camera swung smoothly behind Sappho and Yvonne, framing Paul between them. “I’ve learned so much, about myself, about relationships, about love.” The shot cut to the two women, tension obvious in wide eyes and parted lips, then transitioned back to Paul. “I’ve learned how horribly easy it is to hurt those you love, even when you want what’s best for them.”
Jemma’s heart thudded, hard.
His gaze rested on the women before him. “I’ve enjoyed the time I spent with both of you. You are warm, caring women. But I can only choose one of you.” He paused. “I can only choose one of you,” he repeated.
“Come on, Paul,” Miriam encouraged. “Tell us which one you are in love with.”
The camera zoomed in on Paul’s face.
“I agreed to the role on Reservations for Two because it would be an adventure.” One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile. A sad smile, Jemma thought. “In all honesty, though, I didn’t believe I would fall in love with a woman on the show. I didn’t believe I would find the love of my life. I was wrong.”
Miriam leaned toward the screen. “Here it is,” she whispered. “He’s going to...” Her voice faded, too wrapped up in the drama to finish her sentence.
“Sappho, Yvonne. I’ve made my choice. You are both lovely, wonderful women, and you will make lovely, wonderful wives. For other men, just not for me. I’m sorry.” He turned away from them and stared into the lens of the camera. “Jemma, if you’re watching this, please, listen to me. I love you. I’m sorry I messed up. But believe me. I love you, with all my heart. Jemma, will you marry me?”
Time stopped.
“What?” Miriam turned from the TV in bewilderment. “What did he say?”
A cold flood expanded from Jemma’s chest, froze her limbs, halted her heart. Her cheeks tingled and her body felt weighted, clumsy.
“What’s going on, Jemma?” Miriam’s high-pitched tone warned her confusion bordered on hysteria. “Who is Paul talking about? Why is he not picking Sappho or Yvonne?
“I don’t know what’s happening.” Her voice sounded tinny and thin. “Let’s keep watching and see.”
With a frown, Miriam turned back to the TV.
The camera was still focused on Paul. Jemma could imagine the consternation filling the control room at his impromptu announcement. He wouldn’t have told them what he was going to do beforehand. Benedict and Larrey would never have agreed.
The shot changed to show Sappho, Yvonne, and Paul, the two women blank faced in astonishment. Calynn joined the group and smiled reassuringly. “This is an unexpected development,” she said playfully. “Paul, what is this all about?”
“First, I should apologize to Yvonne and Sappho.” He nodded at the two women. “It wasn’t my intention to slight either of you. Until a minute ago, I fully intended to propose to one of you, and then break the news I couldn’t fulfill my promise once we were off air.” He made eye contact with the camera. Jemma felt the jolt of his gaze deep in her soul. “But I couldn’t. When it came right down to it, I had to be honest.”
Jemma hunched forward on the couch, her arms wrapped around her waist, unable to take her eyes from the screen. She could barely take in what he was saying. It was as if he were speaking an unfamiliar language, one where she understood a few of the words, but even those words made no sense in the context he was using.
“Who were you going to choose?” Calynn asked. “Don’t you owe it to Sappho and Yvonne to give them at least that much satisfaction?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I won’t do that. It would mean nothing, and only hurt two women I respect, two women I would like to call friends.”
“Do you mind telling us—who is Jemma?”
“Yes, tell us, Paul.” Beside her, Miriam’s tone was disappointed and angry. She had yet to connect her Jemma with Paul’s.
Jemma hardly dared to breathe as she waited for Paul’s response.
“I met her a couple of times, before Reservations for Two,” he said quietly. “But I came to know her during the production of the show.” He lifted one shoulder, ducked his chin. “I knew it was wrong, against the rules, to spend time with a crew member. She warned me, more than once, to stay away. That I was threatening her job by allowing my attraction for her to grow.”
And look where that got me, Jemma thought bitterly. Thrown out of the best job I’ve ever had, and trying to get back to normal while my heart bleeds out.
“But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stay away from her. She’s prickly and stubborn, but caring and compassionate. She’s independent to a fault, and refuses to be helped, even when she needs it.”
I need it now, Jemma cried silently. I need your help now. But I trusted you, and you betrayed me.
“What happened between you?” Calynn asked gently.
“I hurt her, very, very badly.”
“How?”
“I let her down when she depended on me.” Paul hesitated, thinning his lips. Silence hummed for a few seconds, and Calynn let it hang, as if sensing he wasn’t done yet. “The worst part of it is, I don’t know if I would change what I did, if the circumstances repeated themselves.”
“You would make the same decision again? You would choose to hurt her, again?”
“It was a matter of honesty. I chose not to lie about my feelings for her.”
“How could that hurt her?”
Paul smiled wryly. “It’s a long story.”
Calynn turned to Sappho. “What are your thoughts on this turn of events?”
The dark-haired woman lifted one shoulder. “I’m stunned. I knew I might not be Paul’s choice, but this...” She spread her hands out in a gesture of acceptance. “I hope it works out for you.”
“What about you, Yvonne?”
“I thought we had a connection, Paul. I thought...” Yvonne’s lips trembled and Jemma’s haze lifted enough for her to remember her jealous reaction during the soccer game Paul and the silvery-blonde had attended. Yvonne took a deep breath before continuing. “I guess it’s not to be. I hope this Jemma knows what a lucky woman she is.”