If the Shoe Fits (Meant To Be #1) by Julie Murphy

“Look alive, ladies!” Beck shouts.

“Roll camera!” someone calls.

“Rolling,” the camerawoman calls back.

“Roll audio!”

“Rolling!”

Behind us the doors of the château open with a creak good enough to be a sound effect, and I can’t help but turn around. This could be the last time I see Henry.

But it’s not Henry. Instead, Chad Winkle, the longtime host of Before Midnight, steps out in his signature tux with sparkling deep navy lapels and a matching bow tie. He’s a little more salt-and-pepper than I remember, but in general, Chad has aged well thanks to modern science. He lets out a chuckle as he waves to the contestants, and my stomach flip-flops as I recall the last time I saw him—a New Year’s Eve party hosted by Erica when I was just a freshman in high school. It was my first semifamous-people party after she and Dad got married. (Unless you count the wedding.) Surely, Chad doesn’t remember Anna, Drew, or me, and even if he does, I remind myself that he’s a professional television show host and is totally capable of keeping his cool.

“Good evening, ladies,” he says as he takes his place in front of the line of Rolls-Royces prepared to whisk away the disqualified contestants. Beside him is a column that you’d normally expect to display a sculpture or flower arrangement, but instead there’s a perfectly stacked pyramid of scrolls. “It seems that some of you had some very real connections with Henry this evening. What a lucky man. Let’s bring Henry out!”

Henry steps through the doors of the château, and as he makes his way down the steps, a ripple of giggles follows. He shakes hands with Chad and gives us all a smirk and a nod. “Ladies.”

“You had some tough decisions to make tonight,” says Chad.

“I did. I met a lot of really special people.”

“Well, let’s get to it.”

My stomach clenches into a knot. This is it.

Henry clears his throat to call a name, but Wes shouts, “Cut! Hold your places!”

Irina, Ginger, and Ash run out to Henry and quickly primp, tugging on his suit, tousling his hair, and powdering his forehead.

“Talk about ruining the moment,” Stacy whispers behind me, and I snicker.

After Ash, Irina, and Ginger scatter, we’re back and rolling.

“Addison,” calls Henry, making her the first name to be called.

Predictable. I try not to roll my eyes in case the camera is on me.

He calls a few other names, including Jenny, which is a good look for him, because who wants to be the guy to send the girl who crash-landed on her face home? One by one, they each take a scroll and excitedly unroll it.

“Anna,” he says.

My stepsister squeals, but then doubles back to squeeze Drew’s hand.

Anna gives Henry a hug and thanks him for the scroll.

As she takes her place back on the steps, Henry calls Drew’s name, and I see the tension in her shoulders immediately melt.

Name after name. Sara Claire. Stacy. Allison. Jen K. And then some I don’t know. Amelia. Genevieve. Felicity. Morgan.

And then finally—“Cindy.”

My sinking heart floats back up my chest like a drifting balloon. I make my way down the marble staircase, breath held. Don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall, don’t fall.

“Will you accept this scroll?” asks Henry as he hands me the final one.

I nod so hard my head could fall off, and then I lean in for a hug, reaching up and sliding an arm around his neck as I casually kiss his cheek, feeling stupidly brave even though my heart is pounding so hard I’m scared he can hear it. “Thank you,” I whisper into his ear.

When I turn back, I find Anna and Drew with wide eyes and slack jaws, while nearly everyone else is shooting mental daggers at my face. Including Addison, whose lips are pursed with irritation.

Girls like Addison have never been threatened by girls like me, and I can’t help it. I love watching these tables turn.

“Well, ladies,” Chad says in his most official host voice. “I’m sorry to say that if you did not receive a scroll tonight, you have been eliminated. Thank you so much for joining us this evening and taking a shot at true love. Please make your way to the front to say your goodbyes to Henry.”

I clutch my paper scroll in my hand as I watch seven women, including Juggling Judith and Brenda the Spanish teacher, say goodbye to Henry and slide into the back seat of a Rolls-Royce.

Beside me, Jenny frowns. “I really liked Judith.”

Behind me, a tall woman with luscious brown curls who I believe is named Amelia says, “Me too. She was my roommate.”

“Well, don’t get too sad, Amelia,” Addison counters. “The sooner other women go home, the longer we stay. Besides, now you have one less person to share a room with.”

Amelia shrugs.

“Okay,” Wes says through the bullhorn like we’re all cattle again, “let’s get all the ladies who are left to make their way down the steps and mingle with Chad and Henry. Music will be playing over your conversation, so no need to be interesting. I know we’re all way past due for some sleep.”

I stifle a yawn and follow down the steps.

“Read your scrolls! Camera two, get me some over-the-shoulder shots of the scrolls,” calls Wes. “Grab a glass of champagne from the trays!”