Authors: Carrie Aarons
A
fter my come
to Jesus moment with Kristen in the women’s bathroom — a thing I’d never thought I’d say — I went to watch the rest of the women take the lie detector test.
Kennedy had made it through honestly and unscathed, but some of her answers only rang the alarm bells in my head once more. She wouldn’t marry someone who wasn’t religious, and she had very strict ideals about the right way and the wrong way of doing things.
Erin seemed nervous as hell for some reason, and when it came out that she was lying about stealing something, she combusted. She admitted to having stolen a textbook from the supply closet to give to one of her student’s who had lost one instead of charging them for a new one. I laughed good and hard at that, she was so cute and sincere in her confession.
I tensed when they brought Leighton in, fighting the urge to go in there and hold her hand, or drag her out…or something. Kristen’s words rang in my ears as Leighton answered questions. It wasn’t easy, but she was honest. They asked about things I knew they were trying to insinuate about our time on Right Now Island, things I knew Chuck or Mitchell had planted on the technician’s cards. But she answered them all.
The most surprising secret of the bunch came with Monica’s session. When the technician asked if she had ever committed a crime, she lied. When he’d asked if she had ever committed bodily injury to another person, she lied.
That was enough for me to go into the room and talk to her. I wasn’t interested in dating or marrying anyone who had a shady past or any kind of criminal activity hanging over them.
“Why did you lie, Monica?” I addressed her as soon as I entered the room.
She looked up, batting her fake eyelashes at me and giving me the siren smile. Monica wasn't like Kristen in the fact that she was out-loud obnoxious about her...well...sluttiness. There wasn't a nicer word to apply to her. While Kristen had dressed like sin on a stick, she had kept some things to the imagination. She was cunning and devious but also brilliant and intellectually superior.
Monica was fake and phony down to her core. I could make out the extensions running through her scalp, the thought of grabbing fake hair as I kissed a woman skeeving me out and sending a shiver down my spine. She'd used some kind of pencil or makeup to make her thin lips appear bigger, but from where I stood she just looked like a clown.
Another man would have thrown himself at her feet if she gave him the time of day, but I had no interest in cheats or liars.
"Oh my god, Finn! I'm like sooo scared right now, did you come to comfort me?" She batted her eyelashes again.
"Monica, what kind of crime did you commit?"
“Oh, you know, I wouldn’t even call it that honey, I—“
My patience was at its wit’s end as I slammed my fist on the table. I was tired and wanted this over with. “What did you do?”
Her eyes flashed as she flinched back, scooting away from me in her chair. “Ugh…fine. A year ago my friend and I robbed this girl’s apartment, she had such nice stuff you know? Well, we didn’t expect her to come home, and my friend thought we needed to send a message so we roughed her up a little and—“
“You robbed and beat an innocent woman?”
“Oh my god, it totally was not that bad!”
I let my head fall into my hands, fisting the longer strands of my blonde hair and growling out a sigh. “I want you gone. You’re no longer in the competition.”
I didn’t wait to hear her pathetic excuse. She’d wasted enough of my time.
M
y body felt
like I’d gone through basic training and back by the time we got back to Los Angeles that night.
One plane ride, countless crew members, and eight girls left. While the entire polygraph group date had been exhausting, it had been worth it. I’d helped one person immensely and gotten a criminal out of the competition…all in all I hadn’t set out to accomplish that but was glad I did.
And of course when I’d gotten home and fallen into my bed on the mansion property, I couldn't get even a wink of sleep. My nightmares from the week before had caused my inability to get some shut eye, and the craziness of the last date kept popping up in my brain, not allowing me to turn it off.
So I headed to the kitchen again for something to eat, and in the tiny hope that Leighton's insomnia had gotten the best of her again.
My heart, my head...my dick perked up when I walked in and found her sitting on the counter, her legs swinging over the edge, eating a bowl of Honeycombs.
"Cereal party?"
She actually snorted into her milk when I used the term my mother had been using for decades.
"Don't you need two people to have a cereal party?" She swirled the spoon around in her milk.
"That's why I'm here." I walked to the cabinet and pulled out a bowl, pouring myself some Honeycombs and then setting it down next to her. "How are you?"
I realized I hadn't asked her that since she'd arrived nearly a month and a half ago. My conversation with Kristen made me realize a lot of things, but mostly that I was letting myself become the sole focus of this process, when I should have been worried about how the women I'd come to care about were faring.
Her mouth might have hung open a little bit at my question. "Um, honestly? That group date was tough. Everything about New York was tough. Putting myself out there was tough, confronting you was tough. Just...tough. Yeah. I think I need a hug or something, and you know I'm not a hugger."
It's true, she wasn't. Although Leighton and her mom had a good, loving relationship, her family had never been the kind to openly show emotion. She always had the cool girl facade, even when we were engaged. There was a side of her that had always been mysterious, like she didn't need emotional support or excessive hand-holding like it seemed so many women did. At that time, I'd found it alluring. But now, I was thinking I liked this more vulnerable side of Leighton.
I reached out and grabbed her half eaten cereal bowl and set it on the counter beside her. Gently I pulled her forward on the counter and placed myself in between her legs, wrapping one hand around her waist and with the other I helped lay her head in the crook of my shoulder.
Even though I was between her legs and my cock was begging to come out and play with Leighton, I just held her. It wasn't a hard embrace, but it wasn't lackluster either. It was just solid. I pressed my lips to the side of her temple and kept them there, feeling as much strength and comfort filling my body as I was trying to provide for her.
Leighton shuddered a breath into my neck, wrapping her arms around me. Not in a sexual way but as if she was letting the stresses from the last week go and putting them on my shoulders.
We had never had many raw, real moments like this. The first two months in Bermuda it was all skin and sex and fast, we couldn't get our hands off of each other. When we got home to Nebraska, it was another whirlwind; the adjustment of living together, meeting each other's families, finally having time alone and not in front of cameras.
But this was a different facet, a new place we'd grown into together. I could feel that forever kind of love creeping up on us, the kind that 80-year-olds talk about in interviews on how they've stayed married for 50 or more years. This was companionship love, the kind that stayed as steady and constant as a heartbeat. This was coming home to the same person every night, in good times and bad times, give them control of the remote, sit in comfortable silence kind of love.
"I meant to ask you before...how is your mom doing?" I whispered into her hair, the smell of vanilla making me high.
Leighton pulled back just far enough to look into my eyes as she talked. "She's hanging in there. I know chemo is making her sicker than she's letting on to me. I might...if it gets bad Finn, I won't stay here if she needs me."
I cupped her cheek and pulled those cinnamon eyes, which had strayed, back to me. "I would never keep you from her. Hell, I'm tempted to tell you to leave now. She shouldn't be alone."
Leighton sucked in a small, shallow breath. "What...what would that mean for us?"
Confusion settled into the crevices of my chest. "Honestly? I don't know. I'm moving past what happened Leighton, I really am. But you should know that I still have feelings for some of the women. I would never punish you for going to be by your mother's side, but I can't tell you how this is going to end."
She nodded her head slowly and I felt like a jackass but...honesty and all. It was my best quality but my biggest enemy at times. "Well, I'll stay as long as you'll have me."
I smiled, running my fingers up and down her arms the way I knew she loved. I used to spend hours scratching her back. "I never thought in a million years I'd be saying this but...I'm really happy you're here."
She smiled too, leaning into my touch. "I think we need to go check the sky. Pigs might be flying."
Giving her a fake scowl, I leaned down, no longer able to contain my swelling dick. "I think someone might need to get her sarcasm checked."
I took her lips, swallowing the moan that burst from her throat as I ground against her simultaneously. We never did end up having that cereal party.
T
he two weeks
to the final four flew by in a blur of hurt feelings, tacky group dates, a spectacular one-on-one and even more spectacular sex.
Finn said goodbye to four women, their bittersweet tears echoing in my head every time I had a silent moment to think. In each of their faces I saw myself, eventually walking out that mansion door when he decided to pick someone else.
I felt all of the other women’s presence each night I snuck down to the kitchen, or the gazebo, or Finn’s guest house. The minute before he pressed his lips to my mouth, or my thigh, or my clit, I’d think, “He’s only doing this with me, right?”
I knew I could ask him…that he’d be honest. But knowing was so much worse than not knowing in this case. Right now I could stay in this tiny rose-colored bubble where Finn and I were falling back in love on a deeper, more spiritual level. I could stay encased in the afterglow of our sex, sex that had me curling my toes and walking funny the next day.
I was practically jumping out of my skin this week. It was Take Me Home Week, or the seven days that the last four contestants got to bring Mr. Right home to meet their family, see where they grew up, etc. It meant that I got to bring Finn home to see my mom again, to have them spend time together.
While I was looking forward to their reunion, and knew it would bring my mom a lot of happiness, I was also thrilled to get seven, uninterrupted days at home with my mom. I could take her to chemo, cook for her, just hold her hand while we sat together. I could be there for her.
Finn would only be with us for two days, splitting his time in each of the four hometowns equally during this week, but I was happy just to be able to spend some time off camera with my mom.
As fate would have it, or the fact that I was the only girl in the final four who lived in Los Angeles, Finn was visiting my hometown first.
We took the short drive over to my mom’s bungalow in Burbank together. My parents had settled near Magnolia Park when the area was undiscovered, just blooming into the hip and funky section of LA that it now was. They’d opened a small, local coffee shop, a novelty back in the day before Dunkin Donuts and Starbucks popped up on every street corner. Over the years the shop has expanded, taken over the storefront adjacent to it and my mom, after my father left, brought on a small time chef who made delicious lunch salads, sandwiches and soups.
We weren’t going to be the next Panera, but we made a good profit and had loyal customers. And my mother was always happy there. That’s what counted.
My heart fluttered as we pulled into her driveway, my quaint but beautiful childhood home staring back at me. It seemed like a while since I’d been here. One and a half months to be exact, but even in the real world without Mr. Right, I didn’t live here. I mostly saw my mom at the shop.
Finn squeezed my hand in the back of the black Escalade used for transport during filming.
“Excited?” His large, warm fingers were intertwined with mine. I knew he was excited to be here.
“Yeah…I just, I don’t want to overwhelm her. This can be a lot.” I pointed to the camera crew setting up equipment outside of the truck. My charm bracelet rattled, now overflowing with tiny trinkets from our trips over the last two months.
“Mary Aldridge is one tough cookie. I think she can handle it. And if not, we’ll tell them to scram.”
He laid a sweet, lingering kiss on my forehead and instantly I felt better. We’d spent the past two weeks making up for the time we’d lost. Not so much talking, but communicating with our bodies. Conversing in touches and sighs, gauging the other’s reactions to strokes and licks. I’d missed him so much that at times like this, when I couldn’t be alone with him, nothing between us but the casings of our own flesh, I actually ached. Shook like a junkie trying to detox.
I yearned for this to be over, tried to trick myself that this was just me and Finn, taking a visit to check in on mom. Sometimes I’d even rub the fourth knuckle on my left hand, the feeling of where my ring used to be giving off phantom sensation.
I nodded that I was ready and Finn helped me out of the car, the cameras switching on and going up the minute we stepped onto my mother’s gravel walkway.
“It’s really good to be back.” Finn smiled up at the olive green Craftsman. I knew he had his camera voice on, realized we should be doing some dialogue for the show or Chuck would be pissed later.
Except I wanted this one day of shooting to be real. To drop the act.
I push up on my toes, gently caressing Finn's lips with my own. The action brought me the strength I needed to step inside my childhood home.
The first thing I noticed when I swung open the heavy oak door was the smell of medical supplies. It smelled clinical, like that infamous hospital odor had replaced the scent of brewing coffee and almond scones.
"My favorite son has returned."
I followed the weak, raspy voice to my mother's favorite rocking chair that had always sat in the corner of the living room, diagonal to the front door and big bay window that overlooked the front yard. Except it was not my mom sitting there.
Mary Aldridge had the same thick black hair she'd passed down to me, the same burnt cinnamon eyes and high cheekbones. She looked like a retro, French model, even in her 50's, and always dressed in that funky, vintage, consignment shop style.
The woman propped up in the rocker was fragile and pale, none of the usual spark lighting up the room around her, as if her aura was about to catch flame. She looked malnourished and small, the bones in her neck and cheeks protruding from the sickness. Her hair was gone, replaced by a simple beanie. No longer were the swaying skirts or lacey blouses, swapped out for thick wool leggings and an oversized sweater, too hot for the mild California winter.
I didn't recognize this woman. I didn't recognize my mother.
I faltered for a minute, the sheer dread sending pinpricks down my spine. I dug my nails into Finn's skin where our fingers were laced, hard enough to draw blood. If he was in pain from it, he didn't let on, just dragged me forward.
"Mary, man am I glad to see you. The one person who keeps this crazy brat in line."
His humor snapped me back to reality and I thanked my lucky fucking stars for strapping me with a man who could get me through a situation like this. Without him, I would have stood in the doorway for who-knows-how-long gaping at the figure in the rocking chair, finally coming to grips that my mom might die.
I watched as Finn knelt down and tenderly wrapped his arms around my frail mom, cradling her. She patted his back slowly, tears pooling in her eyes. I knew what it had meant to my mom when Finn and I had ended, and I knew how happy she was to see him now.
We'd never been a family of "huggers." And by that I don't mean just hugging, but we just weren't overly emotional. When Finn came into our lives, he'd changed that. He'd insisted on hugging and kissing my mom on the cheek each time he walked in the door, he would hold her hand as she walked up steps or just tell her he loved her every time I got off the phone with her. That's how Finn's family was, it was his nature, and slowly but surely, he'd turned mom into a big ball of mush.
"You look beautiful." He pulled away, kissing her cheek before he scooted the ottoman over to sit down in front of her.
My heart spasmed and melted. This gorgeous, amazing man had given me a second chance, and now he was talking to my mom like that? It was a miracle I wasn't sobbing and rocking back and forth in the fetal position.
"Hi mom." I smiled and moved towards her, hugging her a little too tightly but breathing a sigh of relief when she hugged me back with more strength than I'd thought she had.
"She isn't giving you too much trouble, now is she?" My mom spoke to Finn over my shoulder as she hugged me.
"Well...it was a rough go of things at the beginning, but we worked through it. I understand I have you to thank for that."
He gave the full-Finn Wyatt smile, his dimples popping out like a sexy male stripper in a birthday cake. I had to shut the thoughts of me licking them out of my brain.
“I’m glad.” She patted his hand as she held it. “Now that she’s come crawling back, you put that ring back on her finger now, okay?”
“Mom!” I admonished her but smiled.
“What? It’s my dying wish to see my daughter with the man she loves.”
Finn’s smile was tight but didn’t falter. “You had to go and play that card, huh?”
It felt like there were rocks in my stomach, weighing me down into the muck of my life, drowning and suffocating me. My mother couldn’t die. She was my mom, Mary Aldridge. Sharp as a tack and more beautiful and saucy than any person I’d ever known.
“I love you, Leighton, but I have a whole seven days with you. Go away so Finn and I can talk. You too!”
She made a shooing motion at the camera men who, despite their obliviousness to feelings, apparently took into account how deathly ill my mother was and scattered out the front door.
“Go! Make us some coffee.” She all but pushed me out of the room with her strong will.
Finn came into the kitchen 20 minutes later, an expression on his handsome face that I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
“So…what did she say?”
“Well, your mother sure is a cougar…” He licked his lips and adjusted his pants, clearly trying to get me to smile or hit him with his joke.
“Har har, but really, what did she want to talk about?”
“She swore me to secrecy. I’ll never tell.”
I spanked his gorgeous ass over his jeans for good measure.