Cruising for Love (The Escape Series Book 2) (15 page)

I examine the entire web site, but can't find what I'm looking for. It indicates that I am at home resting and recuperating, but it says nothing about Andrew or the next episode of the show. It's like they have just ended it, leaving the world (especially me) with this huge cliffhanger of how Andrew feels.

I am tempted to throw my laptop across the room, but since I'm still making payments on my credit card for it, I manage to stop myself. Besides, that kind of outburst would only feel good for a second. I'm proud of myself for realizing that in time to curb my destructive instinct. There was a time––not too long ago––when I would have pitched a hissy fit, without any concern for the consequences.

Baggy forces me to get up and take a shower, even though all I want to do is stay in bed. I know that I need to get on with my life, but I'd rather take a little while to marinate in my own misery. No-nonsense Baggy calls that hogwash before ordering me to "suck it up, Buttercup."

I do feel marginally better once my body is clean, and I am sitting upright in a kitchen chair sipping from a mug of pomegranate green tea Baggy has brewed. Baggy reaches over to pat my hand and, in a rare serious moment, she assures me, "It's all going to work out for you, Ruthie. You just wait and see."

As if the universe has heard her declaration, a knock sounds at the door. My face immediately perks up.
Andrew
! His name immediately pops into my mind, but I manage to keep my mouth from uttering it out loud.

My heart pounds forcefully in my chest as Baggy jumps up to answer the door. When I hear a male voice, I can't keep from practically running to the living room to see him.

I stumble to a stop when I see him. "Oh...Hi, Syd." I struggle to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I'm happy to see my wonderful friend, but he isn't who I had been hoping was here.

Giving him a warm hug, I realize I must not have been successful in hiding my disillusionment when Syd asks near my ear, "Were you hoping for someone else?"

I shake my head in denial, but can't say anything for fear that the burning ball of misery in my throat will turn to tears.

"It's okay," he tells me, pulling back from our embrace. "No time for feeling sorry for yourself," he informs me sternly. "We only have fifteen minutes to get you camera-ready."

"Camera-ready? Why?" My mind is already abuzz with the possibilities.
Did Andrew choose love over the money and they are coming to tell me? Or are they coming to record my reaction to finding out he took the money without a second thought about me? Or is it some other crazy twist with this unpredictable show?

Syd has brought a train case filled with beauty supplies that he is now expertly applying to me. I fully trust this man now and don't even bother to watch his ministrations in the mirror as the thoughts and fears about what the show might be up to zing through my brain.

"Are you going to fix me too?" Baggy asks Syd.

"You are always camera-ready, lovely lady." Syd bends down to give her a sweet peck on the cheek after his kind words.

I can't be certain, but I think Baggy's cheeks actually turn pink from his doting.
Is it possible that she's not quite as bold and outrageous as she seems to be?

I don't have long to worry about that because just as Syd pronounces me to be "perfection," a loud pounding on the door startles us all.

Unable to hide my hopeful enthusiasm, I jump up and jog to answer it. Swinging it wide open, I stumble back a step and say, "Oh, it's you." My voice sounds flat and disappointed, even to my own ears.
Why had I let myself hope that Andrew might be coming for me?

The croc smiles broadly at me. "It's me," he confirms. "May I?" he asks, indicating that he would like to be invited inside.

I'm tempted to deny him access, but decide I should hear him out. He sweeps into my tiled entryway followed closely by Jake, my favorite cameraman. The red button is flashing on the video recorder, so I know they are ready to capture my reaction to whatever jaw-dropper they are about to spring on me now.

"Ruthie," he starts, "the filming of the show didn't go at all like we had anticipated."

I nod in response, figuring that no one could have predicted how the twists and turns of the show would play out––even though the producers created much of the drama.

"I feel like you got the short end of the stick," he informs me, clearly trying to sound like he has empathy for me, even though I know that snakes aren't capable of conjuring that particular emotion.

"After discussing it with the other producers, we would like to offer you another chance to win the money. Afterall, you are one of the original cast members, and you won over the viewers with your choice of seemingly true love over cash."

I don't appreciate his use of the word 'seemingly.' It had been––and still is––true love on my side. It's not my fault if Andrew only pretended to reciprocate. It is amusing that I have now won over the viewers, though. I can see now that fame is a fickle thing with opinions flip-flopping from hate to love––and probably back again––at the drop of a hat.

I'm surprised to find that stardom is no longer important to me. Ironically, now that I have won over the audience, I no longer care what they think. Having millions of fans doesn't help a bit with the important things in life...like love and friendship and family.

T.J. continues on as if I am not having these enormous epiphanies about what truly matters to me. "So, we are prepared to double the financial incentive. We'll give you $500,000 to choose the money."

I stare at him dumbfounded. It should be tempting to accept, given that Andrew had been deceptive with me. That is a ton of money. It would set me up for life. Granted, it would be a life without Andrew, but I'm going to be without him anyway.
The choice should be simple...be poor and live without Andrew or be rich and live without Andrew...Duh. That's a no-brainer.

It must look like I haven't comprehended what T.J. has offered because he decides to spell it out more clearly for me. "That's half a million dollars. The only thing you have to do to get the money is agree not to ever see Andrew Stark again."

"I...I...I...can't take the money."

I hear Baggy's exasperated sigh as she throws her arms up in the air. "Haven't I taught you anything?" she asks me.

T.J. turns to face the camera directly. "Well, there you have it, folks. True love does exist. Who would have thought?" He shrugs his shoulders like he just can't comprehend it.

"Ruthie has just chosen love over money, even though Andrew deceived her. It was an incredibly bold choice that I wouldn't have believed possible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

I feel dumb for putting my feelings ahead of simple, unadulterated greed. The others in the room are clearly shocked over my choice. I can only imagine what the rest of the world will think when this video streams over the internet. Logically, I know that my choice doesn't make sense. If I'm going to be without Andrew anyway, why not drown my sorrows in a big pile of cash? I just couldn't take the money. It seemed like it would be a betrayal of my feelings, even if they aren't reciprocated.

"Last chance, Ruthie," T.J. seems determined to make me change my mind. "You want to walk away from this show empty-handed?"

I pause, trying to convince myself to accept the offer. Sensing my hesitation, T.J. adds, "I'll give you the cash right now." He opens a briefcase filled with neatly stacked bills that look like they were freshly printed, and I nearly stagger at the sight of it. It's more money than I have ever seen in one place in my entire lifetime. It looks like a bribe from a television crime show, except this is real money being offered to me, and I don't really have to do anything to take it.

Except, I would have to do something to take it––something monumental. I would have to deny my feelings for Andrew, like they aren't real. It would be like saying he doesn't matter to me. But he does matter to me. Despite his betrayal, he still matters very much to me. I can't deny that. I won't deny that.

I look straight into the croc's eyes and firmly say, "I choose love."

"You surprise me, Ruthie," Croc says before adding, "And so did Andrew. Bring him in," he mutters into his mike, shaking his head as if he's completely perplexed. Turning to face the camera, he says, "You saw it here, folks. Love wins out over money. These two lovebirds have both chosen each other over a great deal of money. Then, they chose each other again over double that amount of money."

My mind is trying to comprehend what T.J. has just said.
Andrew chose me over the money? Andrew chose me over the money?!? Twice?
It feels way too good to be true. My ears must be playing tricks on me––hearing only what they want to hear.

When Andrew appears in my doorway, it almost takes my breath away. "You chose me over the money?" he asks me, seeming genuinely surprised. "Again?" he croaks out the question, still standing by the door.

"Of course," I confirm, taken aback that he would doubt my feelings. After all, the only thing I kept secret from him was how long I carried a torch for him. He, however, hadn't bothered to tell me that the producers had arranged for him to be on the show to try to build some melodrama for me with my newlywed husband.

Considering that, I feel like I am the one who has the right to be shocked that he opted for me, when he had clearly been there for the money. "You chose me over that huge sum of cash?" I ask him, the first flicker of hope starting to flare deep in my belly.

He walks over to me then. "Of course," he tells me as if I should never have doubted him.

"And again when they doubled the prize?" My mind is working to muddle through and get caught up on everything that has happened.

"I did," he confirms, reaching out to tenderly rub the back of his finger along my jaw line. "And I would no matter how many times they double it," he adds sweetly.

My glimmer of hope is beginning to burn much more brightly, but I still have questions. "You were planted there by the producers to seduce me," I accuse.

"I was," he admits, "but Ruthie, you have to believe me, I never intended to hurt you. Once we were reunited, I started to remember how being around you makes me feel. You were so familiar––your bubbling and contagious laughter, the way you tuck your hair behind your ears when you're nervous, the way your eyes light up when you see me, making me believe that I truly matter; yet you were different––more grown-up, more guarded, even more beautiful."

"Are you getting all of this?" T.J. interrupts the wonderful moment by asking Jake if he's rolling. At Jake's nod, T.J. enthuses, "This lovey-dovey mumbo-jumbo is going to translate into ratings gold!"

I take a moment to glare at T.J. for being so crass, but decide he is a lost cause. When Andrew begins speaking again, I turn my full attention back to him.

"Ruthie, I hate to admit it, but I came on the show for the money. My grandmother needs 24-hour care, and my family doesn't have the money to afford it. My mother has been doing her best, but she's worn out and she's not a trained caretaker. Grandma refuses to go to the nursing home."

"I'm familiar with the stubborn-as-a-mule grandmother problem." I turn to look at mine.

"Who me?" Baggy asks as if she is the most innocent and easy-going person around. When I don't respond to her, she turns to Jake, "Is she talking about me?" He shrugs, clearly not wanting to get into the middle of this minefield.

"So, you need the money for your family." I process this tidbit of information. "But you didn't take it. What will your mother and grandmother do?" I'm concerned that our feelings for each other have hindered his ability to financially help his family.

"We'll figure out another way to get the money," he promises. He seems so confident that I believe him. "The money isn't what is important. You are what is important."

Unable to hold back any longer, I rush into his arms for a long, sweet kiss. It feels like coming home being in his arms, and I savor the feeling of his warm embrace. "I was afraid I had lost you," I admit.

"Never," he says adamantly before saying, "I thought I lost you. I've never been so scared. I know it's not logical after so little time together, but I have incredibly strong feelings for you, Ruthie––stronger feelings than I've ever had for anyone else."

"Me too," I tell him as I go up on my tippy toes to kiss him again.

I forget all about the camera and the others in the room as we celebrate our reunion by making out. His kisses leave me breathless as our tongues explore each other's mouths.

"Welp," Baggy says loudly, "I guess the rest of us better get going, unless you're planning to record their reunion banging session?"

She asks the question of T.J., who seems utterly surprised by her saucy outspokenness. "Oh, umm, no. We have the footage we need, so we'll be heading out."

"Yeah, staying another five minutes would make the show take a completely different turn, wouldn't it?" Baggy seems to mull this over before adding, "Although, I bet you'd have plenty of viewers for that too."

Not wanting Baggy to give the sly producer any further ideas, I force myself to break our kiss. "Yes, you need to go. ALL of you." I look at Baggy for the second sentence. I wouldn't put it past her to see nothing wrong with hanging out while Andrew and I take our reunion celebration to the bedroom.