Page 62
Story: Groomsman to Groom
I remind myself of Skye’s advice. I don’t say anything unless I’m asked specifically, so I shrug, saying, “He brought me back from the hospital, yes.”
There must be something in my tone because Serena gasps, then says, “Oh my God. You slept with him.”
I blink, wishing she couldn’t read me so well. I look at the floor, unable to get any words to come out when Annabelle says, “You did—I can tell.”
Both of the women I care about are onto me, and I don’t want to lie to them. So, it’s the moment of truth. The moment Skye prepared me for.
I set down my mug and rise to my feet, my body protesting. Standing gives me a psychological advantage, even as pain radiates through my bruised hip. “As you all know, Hayes took me to the hospital after I fell during the bull running,” I say, my voice clear despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “He stayed with me through the stitches, and the doctor advised me to monitor for any excess bleeding, which is why Hayes brought me back himself instead of sending a production assistant.”
I pause, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “And then we had a moment in the SUV afterward. The kind of intimate moment that happens when you’ve been terrified and relieved and pumped full of adrenaline. I’m not going to apologize forthat connection, but I also understand it complicates things in this environment.”
The silence that follows feels like an overfilled balloon aching to pop.
“I knew it.” Gabby lifts her chin.
“A ‘moment’?” Annabelle’s voice shakes.
Luna stays quiet, probably trying to weigh what she should say to me after she told me she did the same thing.
I can’t bear to look at Annabelle and Serena, but before I can address them, the front door opens. Hayes steps into the living area, his expression shifting from casual to alert as he reads the tension in the room. He’s still dressed in a nice button-up shirt and jeans that accentuate his long, lean legs. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the view. Now, I can only register the way his eyes briefly lock with mine before deliberately sliding away.
“Everyone,” he says, his voice cautious. “Seems like I’ve interrupted something important.”
No one speaks. The collective intake of breath feels like oxygen being sucked from the room.
“Actually,” Gabby finally says, satisfaction in every syllable, “Brielle was just telling us about your intimate ‘moment’ after her accident.”
Hayes’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He steps further into the room, his gaze taking in each woman’s expression, cataloging reactions. When he finally speaks, his voice carries that careful control I’ve come to recognize as his way of navigating difficult emotions. “I see.” Then, with a glance that deliberately avoids my direction, he says, “What Brielle described is accurate. After her injury, we shared a connection that went beyond what I planned on engaging in on this show.”
His words land like a grenade in the room. Annabelle’s face twists in anger, Serena straightens her spine, and Luna’s facecontorts. Kavita and Gabby’s triumphant expressions falter—they clearly expected denials, not confirmation.
“However,” Hayes says, his posture shifting into what I recognize as his on-camera stance, “that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here to explore connections with all of you. It was an emotional moment where we got swept away, and I have genuine feelings developing in multiple relationships. I take that responsibility seriously.”
The words slice through me. I know what he’s doing—damage control, I think? But the way he refuses to look at me, the deliberate distance in his voice, makes my chest constrict.
“I understand this creates an uncomfortable situation.” His hands slide into his pockets. “Which is why I want to offer anyone who feels they can no longer continue this journey the opportunity to leave without judgment. I would completely understand if this changes things for some of you.”
The challenge hangs in the air. Leave or stay. Accept the complication or walk away.
“I’m staying,” Serena says first, her analytical mind clearly having weighed the variables and decided the equation still works in her favor.
“Me too.” Annabelle’s voice wavers. “What happened was between you and Brielle. It doesn’t change how I feel about exploring our connection.”
Luna nods, her expression unreadable. “I’m still here.”
Gabby hesitates, clearly torn between the desire to compete and the blow to her ego. Finally, she inclines her head in a gesture that’s more regal than accommodating. “I’ll stay.”
All eyes turn to Kavita, who has gone unusually quiet. She stands slowly, her pageant posture perfect even as her expression crumples at the edges.
“I’m out,” she announces. “This isn’t what I signed up for. I came to find love, not to be part of some line of conquests.” She looks directly at me, anger warring in her eyes.
“Kavita, I’m sorry—” Hayes begins, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.
“Don’t. Please.” She smooths down her already-perfect hair. “I don’t do the polyamory thing—even if it makes for great TV.” With a final glance around the room, she adds, “Good luck, ladies. You’re going to need it.”
She exits with the dramatic flair of a woman who knows when to make her final scene count.
“I should go talk to her,” Hayes says after a moment, his shoulders tight. “The rest of you, please take the evening to process. We’ll pick up tomorrow with our scheduled activities.”
There must be something in my tone because Serena gasps, then says, “Oh my God. You slept with him.”
I blink, wishing she couldn’t read me so well. I look at the floor, unable to get any words to come out when Annabelle says, “You did—I can tell.”
Both of the women I care about are onto me, and I don’t want to lie to them. So, it’s the moment of truth. The moment Skye prepared me for.
I set down my mug and rise to my feet, my body protesting. Standing gives me a psychological advantage, even as pain radiates through my bruised hip. “As you all know, Hayes took me to the hospital after I fell during the bull running,” I say, my voice clear despite the nervous flutter in my chest. “He stayed with me through the stitches, and the doctor advised me to monitor for any excess bleeding, which is why Hayes brought me back himself instead of sending a production assistant.”
I pause, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze. “And then we had a moment in the SUV afterward. The kind of intimate moment that happens when you’ve been terrified and relieved and pumped full of adrenaline. I’m not going to apologize forthat connection, but I also understand it complicates things in this environment.”
The silence that follows feels like an overfilled balloon aching to pop.
“I knew it.” Gabby lifts her chin.
“A ‘moment’?” Annabelle’s voice shakes.
Luna stays quiet, probably trying to weigh what she should say to me after she told me she did the same thing.
I can’t bear to look at Annabelle and Serena, but before I can address them, the front door opens. Hayes steps into the living area, his expression shifting from casual to alert as he reads the tension in the room. He’s still dressed in a nice button-up shirt and jeans that accentuate his long, lean legs. Under different circumstances, I might have appreciated the view. Now, I can only register the way his eyes briefly lock with mine before deliberately sliding away.
“Everyone,” he says, his voice cautious. “Seems like I’ve interrupted something important.”
No one speaks. The collective intake of breath feels like oxygen being sucked from the room.
“Actually,” Gabby finally says, satisfaction in every syllable, “Brielle was just telling us about your intimate ‘moment’ after her accident.”
Hayes’s jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He steps further into the room, his gaze taking in each woman’s expression, cataloging reactions. When he finally speaks, his voice carries that careful control I’ve come to recognize as his way of navigating difficult emotions. “I see.” Then, with a glance that deliberately avoids my direction, he says, “What Brielle described is accurate. After her injury, we shared a connection that went beyond what I planned on engaging in on this show.”
His words land like a grenade in the room. Annabelle’s face twists in anger, Serena straightens her spine, and Luna’s facecontorts. Kavita and Gabby’s triumphant expressions falter—they clearly expected denials, not confirmation.
“However,” Hayes says, his posture shifting into what I recognize as his on-camera stance, “that doesn’t change the fact that I’m here to explore connections with all of you. It was an emotional moment where we got swept away, and I have genuine feelings developing in multiple relationships. I take that responsibility seriously.”
The words slice through me. I know what he’s doing—damage control, I think? But the way he refuses to look at me, the deliberate distance in his voice, makes my chest constrict.
“I understand this creates an uncomfortable situation.” His hands slide into his pockets. “Which is why I want to offer anyone who feels they can no longer continue this journey the opportunity to leave without judgment. I would completely understand if this changes things for some of you.”
The challenge hangs in the air. Leave or stay. Accept the complication or walk away.
“I’m staying,” Serena says first, her analytical mind clearly having weighed the variables and decided the equation still works in her favor.
“Me too.” Annabelle’s voice wavers. “What happened was between you and Brielle. It doesn’t change how I feel about exploring our connection.”
Luna nods, her expression unreadable. “I’m still here.”
Gabby hesitates, clearly torn between the desire to compete and the blow to her ego. Finally, she inclines her head in a gesture that’s more regal than accommodating. “I’ll stay.”
All eyes turn to Kavita, who has gone unusually quiet. She stands slowly, her pageant posture perfect even as her expression crumples at the edges.
“I’m out,” she announces. “This isn’t what I signed up for. I came to find love, not to be part of some line of conquests.” She looks directly at me, anger warring in her eyes.
“Kavita, I’m sorry—” Hayes begins, but she cuts him off with a raised hand.
“Don’t. Please.” She smooths down her already-perfect hair. “I don’t do the polyamory thing—even if it makes for great TV.” With a final glance around the room, she adds, “Good luck, ladies. You’re going to need it.”
She exits with the dramatic flair of a woman who knows when to make her final scene count.
“I should go talk to her,” Hayes says after a moment, his shoulders tight. “The rest of you, please take the evening to process. We’ll pick up tomorrow with our scheduled activities.”
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