Chapter 20

Sharing a Long Island hotel suite with someone you may or may not be in love with—someone who just completely broke your heart, rejected you, and then ran off into the metaphorical sunset with your communal boyfriend—is a special kind of hell.

Luckily, Lauren hasn't had to speak to Krystin once since her generic, emotionless "I'm sorry." There was one time Krystin accidentally walked in on Lauren brushing her teeth, and she just scurried out without another word, but besides that, they had zero contact—and then yesterday morning, she went to meet the Rosens. Lauren stayed behind, watching Bravo and drinking producer-provided mimosas in bed. Krystin never came back. At least, she didn't come back to their conjoined bathroom.

She's halfway through an episode of Below Deck when there's a knock at her door.

It's Josh. He looks disheveled, unhappy, and Lauren knows why: She's supposed to meet his parents today. Well, she was supposed to. Josh is three hours early, and there's only one possible explanation.

"Hey," Josh says. "Can we talk?"

The Long Island Marriott is, by far, the least glamorous place Lauren's stayed during her Hopelessly Devoted tenure. To his (or, well, the producers') credit, Josh picks a somewhat picturesque area for his breakup with Lauren: a bench near a few large cedar trees, autumn leaves littering the ground that remind her of the rose petals in Buenos Aires. A small camera crew is set up in the corner, and Holland and Penny are there too, with clipboards and venti Starbucks coffees.

"So," Josh says. "Krystin met my family yesterday."

"I'm aware." Lauren shivers. This time, Josh doesn't offer her his jacket.

"And I know you were supposed to meet them today," he continues.

Lauren wants to tell Josh that he doesn't have to do this. The last thing she wants is a speech about how much the Rosens loved Krystin, details about everything he and Krystin have in common, platitudes about how he hopes Lauren stays a lifelong friend.

"The truth is," Josh says, "I don't need you to meet my parents. I know what I want—who I want."

Lauren swallows and looks away, focusing on a restless squirrel circling one of the cameramen. "Josh. Hey. It's okay."

"The past week has given me so much clarity. Our conversation after Honeymoons, saying goodbye to McKenzie." He sucks in a breath. "Saying goodbye to Krystin."

"Wait. What?" Lauren turns her whole body to face Josh. "Krystin is …"

"She's gone. And because I don't want to start this next part of our journey together with anything but complete honesty, I'm going to be transparent. She … eliminated herself." He says the words like he's trying to speak with shards of glass in his mouth.

Krystin eliminated herself.

Lauren must have said it out loud, though, because Josh grabs both of her hands and responds, "She did. But, Lauren … it was never Krystin."

"It was never Krystin," Lauren repeats. She's starting to feel like Krystin, with the way she's just echoing every word Josh says.

"This entire journey, there's only one woman who's been certain about us, invested in our future. She's beautiful, and she's strong, and I think she could be a kickass podcast co-host."

No. No, no, no.

Josh gets down on one knee. "Lauren, I am hopelessly devoted to—"

"Josh," she interrupts. "Hold on."

He frowns. "Is everything …"

"Are you proposing to me?" she blurts out.

Now he grins, but it's unsteady. "Well, I was trying to."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, why?" Josh stands up. He looks embarrassed, guilty, and confused at once—maybe even a little angry. "Lauren. Like I said, I'm not just doing this because Krystin left. What I want is someone who can commit to me. Commit to us."

"Josh. I'm not the one you want," Lauren says softly. Weirdly enough, she isn't thinking about her edit, or the viewers, or even Krystin, who might watch this at home in a few days. She's thinking that this poor, misguided, well-intentioned man actually thinks she could be his soulmate. And he knows absolutely nothing about her. "I mean, what do you like about me? Be honest."

He chuckles. "Lauren. Come on."

"I mean it," she says. "You like that I'm hot, and that I stepped outside my comfort zone on a few group dates, and that I'm here. None of those are reasons to marry someone."

"That's not …" Josh looks at the ground, then back up. "Lauren. I really do think you're the one for me. I want to give this a shot."

"You said you want honesty and transparency," Lauren says. "And the honest, transparent truth is, I'm not the one for you. I promise. And no offense, but you're really not the one for me."

"I just don't get it." He glances toward the production team, and Lauren reluctantly looks too. Holland's mouthing a message to Josh, or maybe Lauren. Keep going.

"The answer's no. I'm sorry." Lauren's trying to be gentle—and spare Josh some of his dignity—but it's getting harder. "Josh, listen to me. I'm really not the one you want. We're not meant to be together."

"You are." Still, he finally stands up. "Lauren. I know we are."

The words pop out before Lauren can stop them. "Then maybe you're not the one I want."

Now he looks thoroughly embarrassed, and maybe a little frustrated. Lauren remembers the way he looked when Amanda eliminated him on her season; the way McKenzie looked when Josh cut her string. That's heartbreak, Lauren thinks. This is … shame. Rejection. Confusion. And while she still feels guilty for bruising his ego on national TV, his response just affirms what she already knew.

Josh never liked her, let alone loved her.

It's a relief, until she remembers why he doesn't love her—because she's cold. She's calculating and careless.

Because it's impossible to like someone who's impossible to know.

"I think I should go," Lauren says. "Take care, okay?"

It's a short, easy, but traffic-filled drive from Long Island to Newark. Lauren distracts herself with her phone, but it doesn't even matter that she now has complete, unfiltered access to Instagram, Twitter, Reddit, whatever. She can't bring herself to look up anything related to the show, and even if she emerged with a somewhat positive edit, she knows that's about to be shot to hell when America watches her reject Josh's attempted proposal, proving once and for all she wasn't on this show to find love with the lead.

Her assigned driver heads over the bridge, and Lauren opens a blank text message before turning her phone off altogether. Damian's the only person she could contact, anyway, and they didn't exactly leave things on the best of terms in that Olive Garden bathroom. His account was the first one she checked when she got her phone back; despite their fight, he never did make a coming out post.

But then Lauren realizes there is someone she can text—two people, in fact. Her parents.

"Eighty-eight Oak Street, you said?" the driver asks, once they're stalled in traffic.

"Actually," Lauren finds herself saying, "could you go to seventy-six Thompson Ave? It's on the way."

"Also in Newark?" He punches something into the GPS on his phone.

"In Pinevale," Lauren says. "It's my parents' house."

Her dad, Steven, is the first one to greet Lauren when she shows up, depleted and quiet, with her matching luggage set and a bare ring finger. "Well," he says, clapping his daughter on the back. "I had a feeling he wasn't your perfect match. He had a weak character, if you ask me."

"Actually," Lauren replies, wheeling her suitcases inside, "I think I might've been the problem."

"You?" Steven crosses his arms. "Never."

"Hi, baby." Trina walks in from the kitchen, and her thin, tanned arms squeeze Lauren tight. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine. Really," Lauren says. "It's just … nice to be back here." When her parents just look at each other, she quickly adds, "It is okay I came here, right?"

"Oh, honey, of course." Trina rubs her shoulders, and Lauren closes her eyes. For a second, she lets herself feel like a little kid who just got home from a horrible day at school. "We're so glad you're here. Your sister even drove over from school."

"She did?" Lauren softens. She's completely lost track of time. "Isn't it a weekday?"

"A Monday," Steven agrees. "But your mom called her as soon as you texted, and she came over. We thought we could all go to Giovanni's for brunch tomorrow. Whaddaya think?"

"Yeah, I don't know," Lauren says, even though she has literally nothing else to do besides catching up on Instagram and emails. "Maybe."

"Well." Trina gives her one more squeeze, then makes her way back into the kitchen. "Why don't you put your stuff in your room and take a shower? You must be exhausted."

She is exhausted. It's hard for Lauren to fully comprehend the fact that, just this morning, she was rejecting a marriage proposal, and tonight she's about to fall asleep in her childhood bed. She feels much older and younger than twenty-five. "I think I will," she says. "And I think … I'm down for brunch tomorrow, too. If you're all sure you have nothing to do."

"Nothing at all!" Trina shouts from the kitchen.

Lauren doesn't go to her bedroom—at least, not at first. She leaves her suitcases in the hall and follows the sound of an old Lorde song to Rachel's door. She knocks, but doesn't wait for her to say anything before she walks in.

"Laur!" Rachel jumps up from her desk, and like it's the most natural thing in the world, she engulfs her in a hug. "Oh my God. Are you okay?"

"I am," Lauren says, but she hugs her back. It's a little awkward, but as Rachel's hands dig into her back, she thinks, This is my sister. My little sister. She drove an hour to make sure I was okay.

"I mean." Rachel heads back to her desk and pauses her Spotify. "You don't have to tell me anything. But are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, Rachel, I'm sure. There's really nothing to tell." But Lauren doesn't leave. Instead, she sits down on her sister's bed, accidentally squashing Ellie, her old favorite stuffed elephant. "It happened. I'm home."

There's a beat. Then Rachel walks over and takes a seat beside Lauren. "I'm sorry," she says. "About what I said at your Hometown."

"Huh? When?" All Lauren really remembers from her conversation with Rachel is her own vague bitchiness.

"When I said Josh didn't seem like your type." Rachel plays with a strand of her hair. "Like, obviously he was, I guess. You made it to the very end. Did he choose McKenzie?"

Lauren had almost forgotten that the general public hadn't watched overnights yet. "No," she says. "He chose me. Actually."

Rachel's eyes widen. "Did he propose?"

"Mm-hm." Lauren reaches for Ellie, just to have something to squeeze.

"But you said … no," Rachel clarifies.

"I said no." Rachel doesn't have to ask why—the question is implicit. "You were right. He wasn't my type."

"Well." Rachel shrugs. "You were also right. I don't know your type at all."

There's another silence. Then Lauren breaks it.

"It's women," she says. She brushes a stray strand of hair off her white tee. "My type is women."

It isn't scary to admit. If anything, she's only saying it because she can't bring herself to care about anything right now—her self-imposed walls, her brand, her strained relationship with her sister. But then Rachel speaks.

"Alisha Singh," she says quietly.

Lauren feels herself flush, feels her head snap toward Rachel. "Sorry?"

"That girl who used to come over here in middle school. Right?" Rachel sounds nervous, like she's half afraid Lauren might bitch her out. "And Sierra Ashbery. You always used to change your outfit, like, four times before driving to her place."

"Fuck you. I did that before going out with any of my friends," Lauren says, but her lips start to curve upward.

"That hostess who worked at the Cheesecake Factory when we were both in high school," Rachel continues. "You always offered to go pick up the takeout alone. Like, every time Dad ordered."

Lauren can't help it—she laughs, because Rachel's right. She did voluntarily drive to the Cheesecake Factory every single time, and it definitely wasn't because she cared about doing her parents any favors.

"I'm actually with you on that one," Rachel says. "Her boobs were amazing. And did she have, like, a British accent?"

"Australian," Lauren says automatically, and then they're both laughing. This whole time, Rachel knew. Before her stint on Hopelessly Devoted, Lauren would have felt furious, humiliated, but now it's just funny. Of course she's not slick. Of course she's blatantly, obviously gay. She always has been.

"You're my sister," Rachel says, once their giggles have subsided. "I know we're not, like, friends. But I've known you my whole life. I'm not surprised."

"Then why …" Lauren shakes her head. "Why did you nominate me? All those years ago, I mean."

"I mean, honestly?" Now Rachel looks somewhat sheepish. "You and Damian, like, only ever wanted to hang out with me when we all watched that show together. It's the only thing you'd ever text me about—did you see what she was wearing on After the Final String, did you hear who the next lead will be, all of that. I guess that in, like, a weird way, I thought it would make us closer, or something. Or at least you'd like me more if I got you cast on your favorite show."

Guilt climbs up Lauren's throat. "You're my sister, Rachel. You didn't have to get me cast on Hopelessly Devoted in order for us to, like, bond."

As soon as she says it, though, she realizes: She wouldn't be right here, having this conversation in Rachel's childhood bedroom, if she hadn't gone on the show. If she hadn't met Krystin. If she hadn't ruined things with Krystin, hadn't humiliated Josh, hadn't destroyed her own reputation. Rachel must realize it too, because she gives her a skeptical look.

"I haven't been the best sister," Lauren admits, more softly. "But I love you. Okay? And I want to change that. I want … I want us to be friends."

"I want that too," Rachel says. Her voice is small and hopeful, but becomes more firm as she adds, "And I love you, obviously. No matter what your type is."

Lauren debates telling her sister about Krystin, about Josh, about the entire thing. But then her phone buzzes—it's Damian.

wtf i had to find out you're home from your mom's instagram???? Girl come downstairs right now

"Damian's here." Lauren shoots him a quick response. "I should go down there."

Rachel nods. "If you wanna, like, hang out later …" She twists another piece of hair. "I'll be around."

"Sure," Lauren says.

She means it.

After a quick jaunt downstairs, Lauren opens her front door to Damian, standing sheepishly with his hands in his denim pockets. "Why didn't you just come inside?" she asks. "My parents are home."

"I thought you were pissed at me." He gives her a look. "You didn't even tell me you were back in town."

"Well, I thought you were pissed at me." Lauren crosses her arms.

"I kind of am," he responds. "I can't believe you stayed on the fucking show."

Lauren sighs. She doesn't really want to do this inside, so she takes a seat on her front steps. "I fucked up."

"Yeah." Damian sits down next to her. "You did. But you're still, like, my favorite person in the world."

"I don't deserve that." Lauren kicks a rock with her bare, pedicured foot. "I don't think I'm a very good person."

"That's … not true," he says carefully. "But I'm not gonna tell you you didn't do something shitty. Because I think you did. How far did you make it, the final two?"

Lauren winces. "He proposed."

Damian lets out a strangled sound. "You're kidding me."

"Dames, she slept with him." Her words are all wobbly, and her vision is blurring in front of her, and if she was trying to hold back tears during her conversation with Rachel—well, now she's crying for real. "We had … we had a thing, and she liked me, and for a second I was going to leave. I really was." She can't tell if Damian can even hear her over her sobs, but she can't stop talking. "I found out from a producer. And when I tried to talk to her about it, she, like … she said Josh was the perfect guy she always wanted and I was a bitch who didn't care about things."

"Wait, slow down." She doesn't know when Damian started hugging her, but his steady, solid body is holding hers. "She called you a bitch? Only I can call you a bitch."

"No." Lauren sniffles. "She wouldn't say that. But she said I, like … I only care about followers and being famous and stuff."

"Well." Damian pulls away, just a bit. "That's not true. But it makes sense that she thinks that, right? If that's … why you went on the show in the first place. Why you stayed so long."

"I stayed so long for her, Dames," she says, her voice still cracking. "I mean, yeah, the influencer stuff—that was part of it. But I knew, like, the second I left … I think I just knew I'd never see her again."

He nods. "So Josh … eliminated her? And then chose you?"

"She eliminated herself." Lauren wipes her teary, sweaty face with her hands until she's positive her eyeliner is all over her face. "I don't know why."

"You could ask her," Damian points out. "Slide in those DMs."

Lauren laughs, but it's empty. "I don't think so."

Damian shrugs. They're both quiet.

"I do wonder, though," she says. The tears have finally stopped. "Why she left. What she told him."

There's another silence, and then Damian stands up. "One second," he said. "I left something in the car."

She waits, and then he comes back from his Jeep with a Magnolia Bakery box in one hand and a bottle of rosé in the other.

"Damian," Lauren says, standing up. "Are you seriously—"

"You want to know what happened, right?" He shakes the wine bottle like it's a trophy. "It's Monday night. Hopelessly Devoted's on at eight. And if we start watching now, we can catch the end of Jeopardy!"

"Yeah, no. I'm shutting this down." Lauren shifts her weight. "They're airing Honeymoons tonight. I'd rather not watch her fuck my ex-boyfriend."

"I mean …" Damian gives her a look. "It's not like they show that part."

"Doesn't make it any better."

"Lauren." He puts down the bottle, then the box. He hugs her. Lauren doesn't know if she's ever had so many hugs in one day. "It sucks. But we'll do it together, okay? And maybe as we're watching, you can, like … tell me what really happened. If you want."

She sighs.

"Well?" Damian raises an eyebrow. "Is that a yes?"

"One condition," Lauren says, opening her front door to let Damian in. "We should invite Rachel to watch too."

He grins. "Sounds like my perfect night."

Nothing could have prepared Lauren for the discomfort of watching herself on TV. She's pretty sure that witnessing the tantric yoga date is even more excruciating than doing it.

"Lauren and I have the physical chemistry down," confessional-Josh says. The show cuts to an image of the two of them breathing heavily and gazing into each other's eyes, and present-day Lauren wants to jump out a window. "But … I want to know if our relationship runs deeper than that. Hopefully, we can find out tonight."

"What an asshole," Rachel says, taking a bite of her Magnolia banana pudding. "He's totally keeping you around 'cause he wants to fuck."

"I disagree," Damian interjects. "He's actually keeping her around because he's waiting to know her more. On a deeper level. Like he said."

"See, this is why you fall for fuckboys," Rachel points out.

Damian sighs. "You can't help who you love."

The worst part, obviously, is watching Krystin's Honeymoon with Josh. But even though there's a lot of kissing and flirting, Lauren finds herself taking stock of the parts that aren't quite right, noticing the way that Krystin always pulls away first. The way Josh's jokes don't really make her laugh, the way her smile doesn't exactly reach her eyes in any of her post-overnight confessionals.

"Just because two people spend the night together doesn't mean they were intimate," confessional-Lauren says. There's a pause. "Right?"

Lauren jumps up. "This is unbearable," she says. "I'm getting more wine."

But she can't pull herself away from the screen. She just stands there in front of the TV, like her father does whenever he insists Trina's soaps are "stupid" and he's "just watching for a second." The camera cuts to Josh's confessional.

"Lauren and I, the dates we've been on … they've all been really, um, physical," he says. "Tango, yoga … I don't want her to think that's all I want. I hope she doesn't think that."

"See!" Damian points at the screen, vindicated. Then he looks back at Lauren. "Sorry."

"It's okay."

Confessional-Josh's words are kind of … comforting. Sure, he never really knew her. He never really liked her—at least, not for the right reasons. But he's a good person. He deserves a fighting chance at finding love.

Lauren took that from him. And honestly? Krystin took that from him too.

"Ew," Damian says as TV-Lauren and TV-Josh start making out. "Now we can turn this off."

"I'm gonna go try to call someone, actually," Lauren says. "You guys can … have fun with this. I'll be back."

Damian gasps. "Are you calling Krystin?"

"Nope."

Lauren leaves before he or Rachel can ask anything else.

For someone with a massive social media platform—and as someone who's probably busy fielding media requests and coping with the trauma of getting dumped twice on camera—Josh is surprisingly easy to contact. All she does is send a quick message asking if he's around to talk. He doesn't follow her on Instagram, but her DM request must have caught his attention. Perks of finally getting verified, Lauren thinks as his typing bubble pops up, disappears, and then pops up again.

Don't know if I'm ready to talk but thanks.

Lauren sighs. please.

The bubble pops up again, then it disappears again. Then her phone rings—it's Josh, calling her through the Instagram app.

"Lauren," he says. "What's up?"

"Um." She really didn't expect to actually get him on the phone. "Not much. I'm, uh, watching Hopelessly Devoted."

"Oh," he says. "It's Honeymoons tonight, right?"

"You're not watching?"

"You couldn't pay me to."

He doesn't sound heartbroken. He sounds … a little annoyed, and very defeated, but that's it.

"There's something I should've told you, Josh. Like, a long time before I rejected you on camera." She thinks she hears him let out a small whoosh of a breath, but he just waits for her to continue. Faintly, in the distance, she hears Damian's deep voice and Rachel's cackling laugh. "The thing is, I don't like men. At all."

There's a pause, and then Josh lets out a small, hard laugh. "If you're trying to let me down easy …"

"I'm gay, Josh," Lauren says, as softly as she can. "I wasn't straight when my sister first nominated me for the show, and I definitely wasn't straight when we were together, and it's … like, it's okay if you don't believe me now, or if you just don't care. I wouldn't give a shit if I were you. I'd probably—I mean, Jesus. I'd hate me."

Josh doesn't say anything.

"If you want to anonymously leak this to Deuxmoi, I won't hold it against you," Lauren tries to joke. Embarrassingly, though, her eyes are starting to well up. "Or bring it to Holland and ask for a redo season, or—I don't know, I could come out on After the Final String, explain the real reasons things didn't work out between us."

She pauses, and Josh pauses, too. Maybe he's considering it. The wildest part? Lauren's considering it, too. She imagines the chaos it would unleash in the Hopelessly Devoted universe, and in her own life: the Reddit threads and TikToks picking apart every interaction between Lauren and Josh, the harassment and homophobia in Lauren's DMs. The once-terrifying idea of the entire world knowing who Lauren is and what she really wants—who she really wants.

It feels less scary now, though. Or maybe she's still scared, but … "I'm so tired of lying all the time," Lauren says. She can hear Josh's breath on the other line. "And I'm tired of hurting people because of it. Good people. And I just wish …"

She thinks of Krystin, their fight after the overnights. She thinks of Damian, angry and pleading in an Olive Garden bathroom stall. She thinks of her middle school crush on Alisha and her high school hookups with Sierra and the horrific, humiliating sight of McKenzie bawling as Josh walked her out. She thinks of Krystin, again—in Montana with Delia, maybe, or some guy exactly like Josh, promising her everything she's ever wanted.

"I wish I'd done a lot of things differently," she finally says. "And I'm just really sorry."

"I'm listening," Josh says after a beat. "Just wrapping my head around … this. I mean, all those times we kissed …" She can practically see his brows furrowing. "You really were just … not there to find love, were you? Ever."

"I'm not proud of it." She sinks down to the floor and pulls her thighs to her chest. "But to be honest … I mean, I've been watching Hopelessly Devoted since middle school, and none of the relationships even last. I really thought none of us were there to find love. I thought it would all be fake."

"You know, Lauren?" He lets out a hollow laugh. "I'm starting to think maybe it is."

"No," Lauren says, and she's surprised by the ferocity in her voice.

"No," he repeats.

"I spent time with those girls, and seriously, they liked you. Not me, obviously," Lauren adds quickly.

"Yeah, yeah, okay. I got that."

She has a feeling Josh is smiling now—something about his inflection is kind, earnest, and it makes her smile too, even as she blinks back a tear. "But people come on this show for all kinds of reasons, and that doesn't mean they won't … get caught off guard and fall for someone anyway. Someone who's really special." She thinks of Krystin, and her eyes water even more.

"I see," Josh says slowly.

"Like McKenzie, you know?" Lauren blurts out, suddenly worried he can read her mind. "She wanted to be with you, and for what it's worth—I mean, my word's worth nothing, I guess, but I think you're a fucking catch. You're an amazing listener, and you see the best in people, and you're honest, and …" Lauren swallows. "That's really rare. Clearly."

She can hear Josh's breathing on the other line. "Thank you," he says, like he means it. "This is, um, a lot to take in."

"I know."

For a few minutes, they just trade breaths. It's like they're on their cursed yoga date again.

"Well," he says, and then his tone abruptly shifts. "Thank you for sharing that with me."

It takes Lauren a second, but then she realizes—he's making a joke. He's parroting the words she said when he told her he was falling for her. "Oh, God," she says. "I'm, um. I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be," he says. "I mean, look. I appreciate that you apologized for the other stuff. It fucking sucks that you led me on."

Lauren nods, even though he can't see her.

"But don't apologize for being honest with me at the beach, or on Long Island," he says. "Or now. I just wish you'd done it sooner."

"I wish I had too." She can't hear the hum of the TV anymore. She wonders if Damian and Rachel nodded off to sleep. "If I can do anything—if you want me to explain myself at After the Final String, or …" She lets herself trail off.

"It's up to you," Josh says. "But I'm glad you told me."

"Yeah. Of course." There's more she could tell him, of course, but it's not all hers to tell. At the end of the day, it just feels good to have an honest, real conversation with Josh, after exchanging weeks and weeks of on-camera bullshit.

"Take care, Lauren, okay?" He sounds like he has something else he wants to add, or maybe ask, but he doesn't. Before she can say goodbye back, he hangs up.

Maybe he forgives her. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe they'll actually become friends, somehow, once all the dust has settled; or maybe he'll decide he never wants to see her again. Either way, they're contractually obligated to interact at the After the Final String special in two weeks, where he'll have the opportunity to call her out, if that's what he wants or needs to do. She's positive that by then she'll be a bona fide Hopelessly Devoted villain. Her brand will tank. She'll have to, in her dad's words, get a real job.

But Damian was right, as he often is: There are more important things than followers, and she found and lost several of those things in the span of two months. But then she leaves her phone in the kitchen and walks back to her best friend and sister. They're cuddled up on the couch, sipping rosé and dissecting their favorite TV show, and Lauren feels lucky. She feels loved.

"Sorry about that," she says.

"Don't be." Rachel's voice is firm. "Are you okay?"

"I think so. Actually …" Lauren plops back down on the sofa, in between the two of them. "How would you feel about watching the rest of Josh's season so far? From the beginning."

Damian looks at Rachel, then back at Lauren. "You're sure you want that?"

"Yeah. I want , , ,"

It feels important, though she can't articulate why. Maybe it's about owning up to what she did, to who she hurt. Maybe it's about watching her and Krystin's story unfold, even if she has to fill in all the blanks herself: their confrontation after mud wrestling, their moments at the chateau, the time Krystin told Lauren she was smart and sounded like she genuinely believed it.

Maybe it's about proving to herself that a part of the show was real, after all. That she did fall in love—for the first, for the only time—even if it wasn't with Josh.

"I want to tell you what really happened," Lauren finally says. She reaches for the remote.