Chapter 15

The first thing Krystin notices when she returns to Montana is the smell. The air is sweet and light, fresh and woody, and like sunshine. It's completely untainted, nearly untouched by man. There's nothing else like it.

She fills her body with it. When she exhales, it feels as if she's breathing out the past seven weeks. But then, of course, she'd be letting go of Lauren, who's sticking to the back of her skull like toffee to the roof of her mouth. She would do well to remember that she's not home for good. In fact, the only reason she's home at all is to introduce Josh to her family, who have never met a single man she's ever dated, because, well, she's never really dated anyone before.

It's early enough in the fall that some green is lingering, persisting among the washes of orange and yellow. The trees rustle in the breeze, which knocks a few leaves off the branches.

Krystin watches as they swirl to the ground. She's waiting for Josh in the middle of the street that production has blocked off. In past seasons she's watched, the Hopeless Romantic just kind of appears. Now she knows that a big black car will deliver him to her at the end of the block and then drive away.

She rocks back on her heels. It actually is a little chilly, just standing around. She wraps her arms around herself, tucks her nose into her turtleneck, and pauses, because it smells like Lauren's perfume. She hasn't washed it since she last wore it at the chateau. She panics for a moment, wondering if Josh will be suspicious if she smells like another Devotee. She almost hopes he'll notice and then make her leave, because the decision would be made for her.

She shakes her head, willing the thought to tumble out of her ears. She hears a car approaching, then sees it.

"The eagle has landed," says a PA from behind her. Penny glares at him, and he withdraws.

Then Penny turns to Krystin. "Remember your one-on-one a few weeks ago?"

Krystin does. She nods.

"It was really great when you ran into his arms," Penny says enthusiastically. "You know, like jumped?"

Krystin nods again.

"You should totally do that again."

Krystin knows it's not a suggestion. Penny looks like her old sorority president, and young enough that she could be. Krystin's a little scared of Penny—and, knowing Penny, that's purposeful.

And then, because Krystin isn't paying attention, Josh does appear, without a car in sight.

"Rolling."

So Krystin does what she's told and runs to Josh, lightly enough that she won't look too bouncy on camera. The distance feels longer than it did the first time in Palm Springs, even though it's only half a block. Josh wraps his arms around her waist and twirls her around. She wonders if it looks anything like it does in Beauty and the Beast.

When they kiss, it feels longer too. Josh brushes his fingers through Krystin's hair, and she sees Lauren on the back of her eyelids. She pulls away.

"I'm so excited you're here," she says. They start walking down the street, cameras following.

Josh reaches for her hand. "Me too. I even stopped shaving so I'd fit in with the rugged look."

Krystin laughs. "I think it'll take more than a five o'clock shadow for you to fit in here."

"Fine," Josh says, eyes narrowing, coy. "We'll make a bet. If I pass for a local, even just once—" He holds up one finger to emphasize. "I get to watch you barrel race."

"Why? I do that all the time," Krystin says, slipping her free hand into her pocket for the tiny clip she'd slipped in there earlier. She fiddles with it, squeezing and releasing as she speaks. "You can even watch my best times on YouTube."

"I want to see you do it in person. I want to see everything about you." He says it like it's the easiest thing in the world.

A month ago, an admission like that would have pleased Krystin. It would have settled peacefully in her stomach like a rock sinking to the bottom of a crystalline lake. Now all she feels is the acid, threatening to climb up her throat.

She swallows it back. "So what do I get if I win?"

Josh gazes at her, heavy-lidded. "You'll just have to win to find out."

The day passes relatively smoothly. Krystin leads Josh through the center of town, the storefronts of which were mostly constructed in the mid-1800s, and look like the set of an old western film but less convincing. The twentieth century tried to usher western architecture into the modern era, which led to a lot of wood paneling and minimalist paint jobs.

There are a few places in Montana that boast historical main streets, all unpainted wooden sidewalks and saloon doors. Incidentally, most of these destinations are famous for being ghost towns, but that's not the point. Krystin kind of wishes the modern era had never reached Montana at all. She'd rather see the history, ghosts and all, than the desperate attempts to keep up with the rest of the country.

Josh actually doesn't look too out of place. Krystin still suspects he'll never look like a local, but he has a quality that makes him seem comfortable anywhere. It's part of what Krystin likes about him, really—that he's a stabilizing presence, an anchor. Which is all Krystin's ever wanted.

They go into a couple of shops: a general store, a western supply depot, an antiques market. Josh places a wide-brimmed hat on his head and bows to Krystin. Krystin slides on a pair of old cowboy boots, the leather cracking in the toes.

She starts to feel like herself again, surrounded by all the things she's seen for twenty-three years, before these past eight weeks of mud wrestling and wining and dining. Sure, between rodeo and her sorority, she's seen her share of eyelash extensions and sequined dresses, but it feels like all she's done in the Hopelessly Devoted world. If she really started to think about it, she might wonder if she'd started to lose herself in all the glamour. She's gotten wrapped up in it, in more ways than one.

After they finish up in town, Krystin leads Josh through a nature path, until they reach a small clearing. Jim and Holland have done exactly as Krystin asked: a wicker basket boasts bread and cheese and jam, sitting atop a flannel blanket. And, most importantly, there isn't a bottle of champagne in sight. Instead, a bottle of whiskey is nestled beside a baguette. Krystin smiles.

"All this, for me?" Josh fans himself. "Gosh, you sure know how to make a fella feel special."

Krystin chuckles. "All right, we're in Montana, not Oklahoma!"

As they sit, Josh wraps his arm around Krystin, pulling her into him. Krystin lets him kiss her again, then breaks away.

"Should we, um, eat?"

If it bothers him that she stopped kissing, he doesn't show it. "Let's dig in."

Krystin hasn't brought a man home. Ever. Not even for Senior Prom, because she didn't go—there was a rodeo competition a county over (she won). Her parents used to ask about it, but Krystin never gave them anything to hold onto. When she was twelve, she made up a boy in her class just to have something to tell them. She named him Will, because she always liked that name after she saw Pirates of the Caribbean, and said they had English class together.

Her mother was ecstatic. "Your first crush!"

Krystin was doing algebra homework at the kitchen counter. "Yeah, I guess."

Her mother looked up from the sink, where she was washing dishes. "Well, tell me about him."

Krystin thought. "He's really nice. He has a friendly smile." She paused. Her mother was smiling to herself, looking down at the sudsy pot in the sink. "And he makes me laugh."

She kept up the ruse for a couple of weeks, answering questions when he came up at dinner and fabricating details on the fly when she needed to. It was the only time Krystin ever lied to her parents. Eventually, it stopped feeling like a lie at all.

Josh feels like the closest Krystin's ever gotten to Will. She wonders if they'll mention him, even though there's no reason they would. She never told them he was fake, and she can't imagine what she would say to defend herself. The whole thing was so involved.

She looks at Josh now, standing at the end of the path leading up to their house. He's holding a bouquet for her mother, and a bottle of single malt for her father, and he doesn't look nervous in the slightest.

There have been moments before this one where this whole experience has felt real—their first paintball date, Buenos Aires, karaoke—but it's never felt as real as it does right now, as she stares at the house she grew up in and Josh squeezes her hand. The top of her nose feels tingly in the way it does before she cries.

They take a few steps forward, and newly fallen leaves crunch under her boots. The light is dimming, the sun already below the jagged line of the mountains. She takes a long breath when they reach the front door.

Josh squeezes her hand again, then looks at her. "Don't worry, it's gonna be great."

Krystin nods. She squeezes her eyes shut, but Lauren winks at her there.

Josh raises a fist, raps his knuckles against the wooden door. Then he opens it.

It's bright inside, where a cameraman is already waiting for them. The lens pans over them as they walk down the corridor that opens into the living room.

"Knock, knock!" Josh announces, and Krystin trails him as if this is his house rather than hers.

And then her family is there, sitting on the brown leather couches, and they see Krystin and stand up, but Krystin can't look at them—she can only look at Delia, who's standing timidly to the side of the couch, holding a glass of sauvignon blanc.

Delia's mouth quirks up at the corner. Her coppery bangs fall into her face, and she pushes them out of the way. Krystin just keeps smiling.

"Sweetheart," her mom coos, pulling her in for a hug. Then she's hugging her father. And then she's hugging Delia, because she's not sure what else she's supposed to do.

Once all the handshaking is done, they settle onto the couch. Her mom tells Josh to call her Peg. Glasses of wine appear in front of them, and Krystin drinks.

Krystin's dad clears his throat. "Well, isn't all this something."

Her mom grins. She's expertly applied eyeliner for the occasion, as well as donned her lucky belt buckle. "Isn't it? You must feel like you're waking from a daydream." She leans forward. "Or are y'all still in it?"

Josh squeezes Krystin's knee. "I know I am. I just feel like the luckiest guy."

Delia grips the stem of her wine glass. "I'm sure you do."

"I mean, I do have to commend you on raising such a great girl. Woman," he corrects. "A great woman."

Peg smiles graciously. "Thank you. She is pretty special."

Krystin knows she should say something, but she doesn't have a thing to say. And she doesn't for the life of her understand what Delia is doing there, and who invited her, because it certainly wasn't Krystin.

Delia, for her part, doesn't seem like she particularly wants to be there. She sits awkwardly on the couch that she's spent countless nights curled into, near the edge as if she's going to have to run at any moment. She hasn't looked at Josh once.

He's talking about their first date, how Krystin kicked his ass at paintball.

"That sounds like my Krystin," her dad says. "Never let a man win a damn thing in her life. Or a woman, for that matter."

Josh smiles at Krystin. "So I've heard." He nudges Krystin's shoulder. "When do I get to see the trophy room?"

Krystin looks down at her drink and wills it to turn darker. "It's not a room …"

"Oh, she's always like this." Peg stands up and motions for Josh to follow her. "Come with me, I'll show you."

Josh looks at Krystin for permission, which she grants, and they leave the room. One camera follows them, another settling into the corner of the room. Penny stands beside him. Krystin can feel Penny looking at her, practically willing her to say something.

Her dad speaks instead. "So, Krys." He's looking past her at something on the wall, or in the yard. He pulls his gaze back to his daughter. "Tell me the truth. You're happy?"

Krystin responds immediately. "Yeah. Yeah, definitely." She leans back into the couch. The space next to her is still warm. "He's all I've ever wanted." She glances at Delia, who's eyeing the camera warily.

"He sure is something," her dad says again. "I'll say we, uh … we didn't expect you to be gone this long."

Krystin shifts. "You're saying you didn't expect this process to work."

"No, no, I didn't say that," but it's clear he did. "It's just been a change, is all. We're used to seeing you more often. The way things were."

"I mean, sure," Krystin nods. "But things change. People change."

"You're saying that you've changed," Delia says.

Her dad must sense the sharp edge in Delia's voice, because he tries to redirect the conversation. "I think you're the same old Krystin we've always loved. And we always will."

"Thanks, Dad," Krystin says, but she's looking at Delia.

Voices echo through the hall, and Josh and Peg return arm-in-arm. She's telling him some story about Krystin when she was a child; when Josh throws his head back in laughter, Peg looks at Krystin and gives a thumbs-up.

As soon as Josh sits back down next to Krystin, her father stands.

"Let's go take a walk, son," he says, and Josh squeezes Krystin's shoulder before following him out of the room.

"Well," Krystin says, turning to her mother. "What do you think?"

"Oh, Krystin." Peg sighs, and she has the same smile on her face as she did when Krystin told her about Will. "He's just a lovely man. I'm so happy for you."

"Really?" Krystin isn't sure if what she's feeling is relief. "You really like him?"

"I really do, hon." Peg looks at Delia, then back at Krystin. "And how has everything else been? Do you like the other girls?"

Krystin takes another sip of wine. "Mhm."

"Have you made any friends?"

She thinks of Lauren, in Patagonia, in the chateau bunk bed. Then she thinks of Kaydie, and decides she won't be lying if she says yes. "Absolutely. Some of the best in my life."

Delia chokes on her drink. "Sorry," she says. "Wrong pipe."

"Well," Peg says, "I'm gonna give you girls some time to talk. I'm sure you have a lot to gab about."

She leaves, and Krystin hears the front door close. Penny and the cameraman stay firmly planted in the corner of the room. Delia tilts her head toward them.

"Do they have to be here?" she asks.

"Yes, Delia, it's a TV show."

"Fine."

Why are you even here? Krystin wants to ask. "I didn't realize you were coming tonight," she says instead.

"Some producer reached out to your parents about any friends or family they thought should be here. So they called me."

Krystin hadn't told them about the fight. She hadn't really gotten the chance. "Honestly, I'm kind of surprised you showed up."

"You can just say it," Delia says. "I don't mind." She looks directly at the camera. "I don't like this show."

Penny rubs her temples.

"Deels," Krystin pleads. "Come on."

"Twenty-three years, and this is the guy? This is the guy you want to marry?"

Krystin swallows. She remembers when they announced Josh as this season's Hopeless Romantic, and how he seemed, by all accounts, like a genuinely good guy. He had been kind and genuine with Amanda, supportive of her choices and leaving obligingly when she asked, despite how embarrassed he must have been. If she can't love Josh—who is flawed and more than a little corny, but has never done anything truly wrong—she would have to give up. And she doesn't know what that looks like.

"Yes," Krystin says. Then she adds, petulant: "And I really don't understand why it's so hard for you to believe me."

"Krystin," Delia says, in nearly a whisper. "You've never even had a serious boyfriend."

"He knows that. Everyone knows. I told them."

Delia scoots forward. A little wine sloshes out of her glass. "It's not about what he knows. It's about you, and what you know."

Krystin's heart rate is trying to beat its own record. "Why are you being so cryptic?" Krystin tries to level her voice, but she can't help it, she sounds a bit shrill even to her own ears. "Do you know something I don't?"

"I know you're not ready to get married."

They let the accusation hang in the air for a moment. Krystin can already see Penny's gears turning, hearing this after all that drama after the podcast date.

"What do you know, Delia?" she says finally. "You've never had a serious boyfriend either."

Delia tucks her hair behind her ear. "Well, I'm different."

"How? How are you different?" Everything from the past two months starts flooding back to Krystin. She's back on the plane to Buenos Aires, Lauren needling into her past while settling into the seat next to her. She's in the hotel bed, eyes puffy and achy from crying, a telenovela muted on the television. You don't exist just for someone else to be proud of you. Lauren told Krystin that she had a lot to be proud of. Lauren told Krystin she was proud of her.

Why the fuck is Delia in her house? What was she telling Krystin's parents before Krystin walked in on Josh's arm? Why should she trust anything Delia has to say, anyway?

Krystin can feel it happening. Her chest feels hot, and something bubbles up that could, in any other circumstance, be mistaken as laughter. "You love to tell me how to live my life, and you don't even know how to live yours."

Delia looks like she did when they were in grade school and Jaden Bader hit her with a volleyball in PE: stunned, pissed, and mildly hurt.

Fuck. She should not have said that. And especially not in front of the cameras. Even Penny looks a little mortified. This night, one of the most important of her life, is quickly morphing into a different kind of TV show. She has to fix this.

She takes a breath. "All I'm saying is, I wish you would just support me in this journey. I believe that this process works, and I'm really trying."

Delia's lips have settled into a stony line. She looks at Krystin when she speaks. "Maybe you shouldn't have to try so hard."

Krystin's heart rate is still settling. She feels the needles in the corner of her eyes, at the very top of her nose. She doesn't know where Josh is. The only other person she's been able to share this experience with is a thousand miles away, planning her own hometown date. She feels completely and utterly alone.

Krystin reaches around her waist for the mic pack. Penny motions for her to stop, but she switches it off anyway. When she speaks, her voice sounds unsteady even to her own ears. "Why are you trying to ruin this for me?"

The front door opens again, and Josh returns with her parents. Actually, he's walking between them, like—well, like the son they never had. It's all too easy for Krystin to imagine Thanksgivings and Christmukkahs and regular old Sunday mornings with the four of them, passing the coffee and the syrup and the local newspaper with the easy crossword puzzles.

Delia must see the way Krystin looks at the three of them, because she leans over to Krystin, gripping her arm. "Krys, please. You think this is what you want, but it's not. I know you. I know you."

But Krystin shakes her off. "You used to."

By the time Josh sits down with Krystin again, her mic is back on and she's smiling up at him. He looks down at her, running a hand through his hair. He looks like he just ran a marathon, cheeks flushed, catching his breath at the finish line. He's warm too, but he's always warm.

On the second couch, Delia moves to make room for Krystin's parents. She's finished her wine, and slides the glass purposefully across the coffee table.

"This was quite the night," Peg says, leaning into her husband. His hand slides easily over her shoulder, his thumb brushing absently across her skin. They've moved as a unit for as long as Krystin can remember. Even when they disagree, they can predict each other's sentences before the words make it out of their mouths.

Delia used to ask how they didn't get sick of it all. She'd throw glances at Krystin when she came over for dinner. You really buy this? Krystin did. She never had any reason not to. It should have occurred to Krystin that Delia might extend the same cynicism to her.

"It was an absolute pleasure to meet the folks that made this stunner of a woman," Josh says, planting a kiss on Krystin's cheek. "You know, we all have walls up. Thank you for letting me through your door."

Peg bats a hand. "Oh, you're welcome any time."

Delia is uncharacteristically restrained. Krystin feels like she's already standing at the altar, and the officiator is asking if anyone objects. The seconds drip by slowly as she waits for Delia to jump up and drag her away.

But she doesn't.

They all stand and say their goodbyes. When Delia reaches for Krystin, the embrace is tighter than earlier, and longer. Krystin feels Delia's heart beat into her own. She still smells like green apple shampoo, the same one she's been using for years.

And then the cameras follow them out of the house and down the driveway, where another big, black car is waiting to take Josh away, probably to New Jersey. He kisses her for a long time before climbing inside. Then he tells her he's going to miss her, and she says the same.

The next time she sees him will be at the string-cutting ceremony, after he's charmed everyone else's families and shaken their fathers' hands and told them he'll miss them too. Krystin expects this knowledge to pierce, but she feels nothing. She feels like her arm is asleep and she's poking it with a needle. She's aware of the action, and its consequence, yet numb to the pain.

Stranger is the knowledge that Krystin has spent more hours, multiplied, with Lauren than Josh, and he's going to meet Lauren's parents before she does. Krystin wonders if Lauren's parents will like Josh as much as hers did; then she wonders if they would like Krystin more. Then she goes back inside her home and tries not to think of anything at all.