“Actually, I . . .” I trail off. No sense telling her I didn’t exactly give her that first ring. Gran wouldn’t understand. I pocket it and exhale.
“Why’re you so nervous? She already said yes, boy.”
But not for real, I think. “Because she’s too good for me.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, leaning over and touching my cheek. “Your grandfather said that to me until the day he died. With that attitude, you’re going to make a wonderful husband.”
SECRET MEETING
Nell
Of course. Yes. I had no communication with anyone from the show in the interim period between filming and the finale. Those were the rules.
—Nell’s Finale Interview, December 17
Three weeks.
Three agonizing weeks.
That’s how long it took before I received another text from Luke.
I was going mad. I interviewed for the position as adjunct faculty in the Department of English at Georgia State but didn’t get it, so I was still looking for jobs. But the stress of my rising debt barely bothered me, since I knew that come December 17, we’d get our big million dollar payoff. My mind was completely muddled by all the chaos surrounding the television show—and of course, thoughts of Luke. I kept my phone with me every moment, waiting for that elusive text.
By the time I got it, it was November.
It wasn’t sweet. Wasn’t even nice. All it said was: 8 p.m. this Sunday. Follow Carver Mill Road from Atlanta to the S curve, then take a right into the first wooded drive and drive about 100 yards.
I stared at it. How did I know it was even from him? It could’ve been from a serial killer, luring me out into the middle of nowhere.
But I took one look at the time—eight p.m. on Sunday, the regular airtime of Million Dollar Marriage—and decided I’d rather chance it than be forced to watch. I’ve actually done a great job of avoiding every episode, even though Courtney keeps trying to get me to sit next to her and endure it. She is even more of a fan now than before, and she can’t believe I’m still in the game. One Sunday, she scrunched her nose and said, “You don’t really win, do you?” and I just shrugged.
So I borrow Nee’s car on Sunday and drive out of Atlanta into the country. I have no idea where I’m going, and the road is creepy and dark. It’s autumn and the leaves are falling as I drive into the S curve. Sure enough, there’s a small road to the right, gravel and full of ruts. I drive along, squinting in the light from my headlights, until I see the back of an old Ford pickup truck.
I apply the brakes and cut the engine, hoping to god that’s him. I don’t get out, just in case.
And then the door opens, and a big form steps out, comes around the back of the truck, and leans there, arms crossed.
Can’t mistake those biceps. It’s him.
I forget to take off my seat belt in my excitement, and it nearly strangles me. I finally snap it loose, bound out of the car, and run to him, throwing myself into his arms. I straddle him, and he lifts my ass, so I wrap my legs around him. He kisses my hairline, kisses my face, my mouth, and I bask in him, his smell, his body, everything.
“I missed you so much,” I say, burying my face in his neck.
“Missed you too.”
He holds me for the longest time, against his warm body, and we don’t talk, even though I’ve been saving up a million things to tell him since I left. Funny, when we parted, I kept seeing things I thought he’d like or thinking of things I wanted to tell him, and now . . . I don’t want to talk. I just want to be near him.
When after an eternity he finally lets me down, I look around. “Where are we?”
He points behind him. “My parents’ farm. Their house is just over that ridge. No one ever comes out here, though. I used to come here to get high.”
“Oh.” Okay. Enough talking. More kissing.
I reach for him, but he says, “You have to go back soon?”
I shake my head adamantly. “I don’t ever want to go back.”
“Good. I might just keep you.” He opens the tailgate on his truck, climbs in, and spreads out a sleeping bag. Then he gives me his hand, hoisting me up. We kick off our shoes and slip into