Chapter 39: Silas

It wasa realization Silas had had many times over the course of this show but there was simply no other woman on this planet more beautiful than his. It wasn't even his first time thinking so today. He'd thought it when they'd woken up, her body wrapped so tightly around his and the morning sun leaking in through the window they'd left open the night before. He'd thought it when the production member guided her out the door of their suite and he thought it approximately twelve thousand times when they'd met back up to take the pre-finale b-roll.

All of that, and he was still blown away when Eloise rounded the corner of the manor looking like she just stepped out of the Garden of Goddamned Eden. The dress they'd put her in was like a million draped ribbons around her form, fluttering so beautifully over the curves he'd been obsessing over for weeks. And then they'd tied a matching ribbon through her hair, giving the whole thing an air of innocence.

He couldn't wait to rip that fucking ribbon out of her hair.

Could he get away with doing it now if he did it on camera?

He'd just stepped forward to do so when a production member—Graciela, her name tag read—shepherded the group to gather around the dias.

"Alright," Graciela clapped, commanding their attention. "We're going to do all your individual interviews first. We'll want that footage to show while Lainey's stalling the reveal to account for last-minute votes. Joint interviews are going to wait until you're all in position on the roof. In about—" she checked the bulky, utilitarian watch on her wrist "—twelve minutes, we're going to let the live audience filter in. We've created pockets around the back and side yards so reporters and whoever else wants to interview you can have a good backdrop of the manor."

When she gestured to these spaces, Silas couldn't help but feel like he was a wild animal being briefed on his upcoming life of captivity. The partitions they'd erected to separate the contestants from these reporters were like the cages in a zoo and Silas wasn't ashamed to admit he entertained a fantasy or two about one of them falling in.

Eloise's hand in his brought him back, though.

Graciela was still speaking. "Now, I'd like to remind you that you all are still in the manor and filming is still going on. Participation in these interviews are considered a part of your contract and we expect you to cooperate."

Silas could pretend like he didn't know why Graciela's eyes landed on Maia and him but what was the point?

"You are not permitted to leave your assigned area until a member of the team comes to collect you. From there, we'll take you all back up to the roof to get in position. Lainey will not be up there with you this time—she'll be down here, hosting in front of the flower arch. Got it?"

Silas's assigned area was probably the least glamorous of the bunch and, if he were being honest, contradicted every reason Graciela had given. They'd stuffed him against a wall of the manor, his only backdrop the siding. The partition wrapped around him like he was a stationary piece of art and maybe that was the point. Making sure he couldn't sprint.

The one bonus, though, was that he could see every inch of the backyard from his vantage point. They'd set Killian up by the pool, Maia on the opposite side so that the cameras could get the partners in the backgrounds of each of their shots. Cora was tucked into the patio, making everyone—or maybe just Silas—jealous of her easy escape route. Leith had been planted in front of a copse of trees, which felt a little on-the-nose.

And then the pervs had set Willow up on one of the sunbeds, Eloise on the other, and it kinda pissed Silas off. Were they supposed to drape themselves over the mattresses? Give everyone surrounding them a height advantage? The suggestion of it all started the boiling in Silas's blood.

He raised his foot to step over his partition only to have a hand clap over his chest. It was a different member of the crew but they acted like they knew him all the same, looking him up and down. Taking in his stance.

"Oh no you don't." This one wasn't wearing a name tag, which was fine. Silas didn't want to have to humanize the one standing between him and Eloise. "Eloise can take care of herself, man."

Well, of course she could. But wasn't that what Silas was there for? To take care of her so she didn't have to?

Like she could hear the altercation—and maybe she could; no one was there yet—Eloise met Silas's eyes and winked, spreading her arms wide and falling back onto the bed in a rather dramatic fashion. She was always doing that. Something so ridiculous that Silas couldn't help but smile. Her own handler was not as amused, though, snapping at her until she pulled herself up from the bed. When the crew member wasn't looking, she shared a secret little eye roll that Silas would probably cherish forever.

Or, maybe he wouldn't have to. Maybe there were so many more to come.

To his dismay, he lost sight of her when the people started to fill in. His vision of the stunning girl in green was suddenly replaced with images of overeager, nipping faces, begging him for a story he could tell so much easier if they'd just let him look at her. Only the reminder that the sooner he finished these interviews, the sooner he could get back to her kept him pliant. They'd spent too much time apart already.

"So what's next for you and Eloise?" someone asked him.

Teaching a class on coming up with original interview questions.

Out loud, he said, "Not sure. She's in Washington. I'm in Oregon. It's not exactly far—we could make it work." Then, realizing that Eloise would see this all later and that this wasn't just for the strangers, he added, "I'd follow her if she wanted me to. Or she's welcome to come to me. We can meet in the middle. Go somewhere else entirely. If she's there, I don't give a shit."

He bristled at the chorus of awws. He wasn't saying that for others to find romantic. He said it so Eloise would know where he stood. Like idiots, they hadn't thought to discuss it before now. They'd been…busy. Mostly, though, Silas didn't want her to think he was putting on a performance for a crowd.

"You two have had quite the journey in the manor, wouldn't you say?"

"Guess so."

"How do things with Eloise compare to relationships you've had in the past?"

Silas frowned. He knew they'd painted him as a bit of a playboy before coming into the manor and the depictions weren't exactly inaccurate. But were they bringing it up tonight to discredit what he had now?

"There haven't been any relationships before Eloise," he snarled. "Not in any of the ways that count. There's no comparison."

"So other women?—"

"No other women."

They tried again. "I just mean, in the past?—"

"There is no past. Why the hell would I give a fuck about anyone in the past when she's standing right over there?"

Cue more simpering.

"Does Eloise not know?—"

Silas cleared his throat, hoping for a little bit of finality. "Our histories are between us and us alone, okay? We've been pretty gracious in letting you all in for this portion of our lives so I don't think we owe you any of the shit that came before it."

How audacious of the reporter to then ask, "And what about the future?"

"Didn't I already answer that?"

"Not what's in the future. I mean, will we get to see the future? Will you guys keep your relationship in the public eye?"

"If that's what Eloise wants," Silas gritted out.

The reporter laughed. "God, you're such an asshole. I love it."

Another reporter shoved their way forward, this time with their phone as their camera. "Speaking of being an asshole, how do you think Eloise's friends and family are going to react when they see what's been happening in here?"

Well. That was uncomfortable. And somehow unexpected, no matter how obvious it should have been.

"I think…" He shifted, finding his footing and his words. "I think that her friends and family are going to watch this show and realize how right we are for each other. I'm sure they'll give me shit—and, really, they should—but I'm also sure that they'll know that no one else is going to love Eloise as much as I do."

"Did you just?—"

"Yes."

And he had. Because he did.

It felt fucking stupid to say it. Because what was five weeks in the grand scheme of things? Five weeks where they'd spent half of it fighting or apart? Yet, it wasn't like he'd had a choice in falling in love with Eloise. She was just so…

Silas didn't think he could put into words, all that she was.

He probably should, at some point. Maybe now. Maybe when she was in front of him, later. But she needed to hear everything he thought of her at some point.

When he spoke next, it was into the cameras but it wasn't to the people behind them.

"Eloise, I know I haven't been the best to you since we got here. I've been a dick and I've probably slung you more insults than compliments at this point. I can't take back how I've acted and I won't make excuses for it but I hope, somewhere down the line, when we get out of here, you'll give me the opportunity for a do-over. For a real honeymoon where I can kiss your ass, all day, every day. There hasn't been a single thought not about you in my mind since I laid eyes on you that first day and I genuinely hope that never changes."

He couldn't hear whatever reaction the crowd was giving him over the sound of his own blood thundering through his veins. He'd never done this before and he didn't know if he was doing it right. He had the vague notion that he should be down on one knee.

Not that he was proposing.

Not today. Not in front of everybody.

Eloise probably wouldn't be too fond of that.

He didn't want to stop to think about how that made his heart clench in his chest so he just kept going. "I want you to know that I'll never get tired of your voice or your face or your laugh or the way your little nose flares every time I piss you off—in fact, I might try to piss you off just so I can see it. I won't get tired of your stupid fucking questions or all the time you spend in the closet just trying to figure out which outfit sends the right message. Oh—and the nightgowns, Eloise. Please don't get rid of the nightgowns. I was lying before and I love them. Almost as much as you.

"Because I do love you, Eloise. Completely. Categorically. Against my will, I fucking love you."

Was he wheezing right now? Had that really taken the wind out of him so entirely? If he were an outsider, looking in, he might have called that pathetic. Humiliation of the highest order. Hell, even as an insider, he thought it was a little embarrassing. But Silas had been losing his breath over Eloise from the very first second.

He hoped she liked it, though.

It probably wasn't enough to make up for all the other shit he'd done but maybe he'd get a little reward later for a love confession well done.

Not that he deserved a reward.

He didn't deserve one but he'd take one.

In the form of Eloise, making all his dreams—and his fantasies—come true.