Then

"Where's your head at?" I say, tugging on Josh's hand.

Our time in Jamaica is coming to a close. We're walking on the beach as the sun sets, our sandals discarded back at the picnic blanket. My hi-low wrap skirt blows against my legs like a whipping mermaid tail. My midriff, bare under my crop top, is prickled with goose bumps. The sand is hard and chilly under my feet, the lull of the waves peaceful and a little mournful, like they know we're at the end of our journey and are trying to give us a gentle send-off.

Emma's and Zoe's send-offs were not gentle. Not for them, and not for me. I blubbered through those rose ceremonies and had terrible sleep in the aftermath of both their departures. Though I hope to create a family with Josh, I'll never have a family of origin; these girls are the closest I'll come.

It's our last date before Josh proposes to one of the two remaining women: Cam or me. The next time I see him, he'll either be putting a ring on my finger or rejecting me forever. Fulfilling what I was made for, or propelling me into...what? Despite Cam's offers of connecting me with her agent, or my own pragmatic moments when I consider my future after the show, I just can't imagine it. It's...a void.

"Honestly? I'm confused," he says, running his free hand through his thick brown hair. "I wasn't expecting to be this torn this late in the process."

"Do you think your mom helped add some clarity?"

Josh and I spent an hour with his mom first thing this morning, before heading off into our day. It was a surprise to me, but I think it went well. Rita wasn't at all what I expected. If Josh is tall and fit and confident, his mom is the opposite. Petite, round, reserved. Uncomfortable-looking, as if her shoes are too tight, though maybe it's being outside of the US, which is a first for her. She mentioned it at least three times.

As we picked at a breakfast of scrambled eggs and fruit, she asked Josh to give us girls a minute alone. I sipped at the bitter coffee while she asked me rehearsed-sounding questions. What drew me to Josh. If I want kids. How I picture myself fitting into his life in Indiana. Even though I think I gave great answers, I could tell by her demeanor she didn't buy it.

"We're not jet-setters," she said when I was done talking, looking me up and down as if my very appearance was reason to doubt my sincerity. "We're simple Midwestern people who hold traditional family values. I don't want Josh to marry someone who's not going to be happy with the life he can offer."

"I'm not a jet-setter," I said earnestly. "I'm actually a really simple girl. Marrying Josh, living together, having kids—that's what I want. You know, the sweet simple life. Believe it or not, going to Paris was my first time out of the country, and Jamaica is just my second!" I laughed, trying to bring levity, but she didn't take the bait.

"Tell me about your family background, Julia," she said. "Are you close with your folks?"

I swear the world stopped turning for a split second.

"Josh...didn't tell you?" As she shook her head, words bubbled up that I hadn't planned. "I...don't have a family. I guess it's complicated. But Josh has made me feel like I can finally have all those things, with him. If you feel like I don't have as much to contribute, since I don't have parents or siblings, I get that. I understand. But we've talked about it a lot together, Josh and me, and it makes us even more excited to build our family." I babbled on in that vein, trying to strike a hopeful note. She listened with pinched lips, clearly wondering what had happened—was I an orphan? The victim of some tragedy?

When I finally stopped, I felt gross, like I'd lied to her face. But I couldn't tell her I was a Synth. If I did? If she reacted poorly? That would be Josh's last impression of me before deciding whether to keep me or leave me.

"You're deep in thought," says Josh, squeezing my hand and bringing me back to the present.

"Yeah... I was thinking about your mom." I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I have no idea what she thought of me."

"She liked you." He pauses to nudge a shell with his toe, then bends to pick it up.

"Yeah?" I chew on my thumbnail as Josh tucks the shell in his pocket. "I guess it caught me a little off guard that, um...she doesn't know I'm a Synth." I know she disapproves of the show. But even if she avoided the teaser trailers and the buzz, I'd assumed Josh would talk to her about it up front.

"Yeah, I should have warned you, I guess." Josh seems sheepish. We keep walking, skirting dark piles of seaweed. "She's a good person, Julia, truly. But...this is all new to her, you know? She already thinks the show is morally questionable. If she knew you were a Synth? She might not have agreed to meet you at all. I thought it would be best if she got to know you as a person first. And then, once she really likes you, we can break it to her. She's a super loyal person, so once she decides to love someone, she's all in. It's just a timing thing. Does that make sense?"

"She might find out anyway, online, or on TV, or—" I chew on my upper lip. "Won't she feel...betrayed? If we don't tell her ourselves?"

"We will tell her ourselves, Julia. I'm telling you, the timing isn't right. This is my mom. Trust me."

"Of course. Yes. Totally," I say. I still wish we'd talked about this first. But now is not the time for recriminations. I lick my lips and taste salt.

We walk in silence for another minute, then naturally come to a stop, facing the waves and the shreds of sunset, orange and pink tatters floating on the horizon like a ripped-up ball gown. Reminding me the day is almost done; it's time to say my last words.

"Obviously your life is going to look different depending on who you choose," I say as the wind blows my hair back. "I guess I'm wondering what you imagine when you picture marrying me. If it's really different when you think about Camila. And...if you have any last concerns."

I'm kind of glad we're facing the ocean right now and not each other, because if I had to look into his eyes, I might cry.

Josh rubs the back of his neck. "I mean, my life with Cam would be...fun. She's feisty, she keeps me on my toes. I think she'd be a great mom, obviously—if not, she wouldn't be here. I imagine a lot of laughter. She has a big family, lots of aunts and uncles and cousins. I can see big, crazy Christmases."

I nod, trying to stay dispassionate, even though hearing the good things about Cam feels like being cut to ribbons. Of course he would want all these things. It kills me that it's not in my power to offer them, too.

"But with you," Josh continues, his tone warming, "I see myself relishing the simple everyday stuff. I also see you being a great mom. You're really nurturing. Really positive and calm and...kind. You make me want to be a better person, and that's really cool. With you, I see...safety. You'd love me for who I am, which weirdly is what makes me want to be better, and that's hard to say no to."

I nod, throat tight. The big, crazy Christmases do sound fun, damn it. Ugh. I have no idea who he's going to pick—or who I'd pick, in his shoes. Maybe it does come down to what Cam said, before Paris. Is he more interested in the actual or the aspirational? Who he is now, or who he wants to be?

Or maybe it'll come down to hair color, hah.

The waves tease our toes as we look out at the ocean. I hold on tight to his hand because this may be the last chance I have.

I think about my journey to this moment, from waking up with that glow of anticipation to my dramatic speech during the first rose ceremony, through dates and eliminations and travel and laughter, all the way to now, standing in this silence and stillness on the precipice of Josh's decision, the waves reminding me that, whatever he decides, life will continue on the other side.

I have to face a scary reality: that I was made for Josh, but Josh was not made for me. Josh exists for himself, and he's going to do what he wants, and there's nothing I can do about it save what I've already done.

The waves roll and roll. Is this what water was made to do? Is it satisfied, lapping and retreating, kissing the shore before pulling back? I suppose it doesn't matter if it's satisfied. It is what it is, and the waves will still be here long after Josh and I are gone.