Page 121 of Unscripted

Having made it up onto set, Callum paused and looked around, as though he might suddenly be regretting storming up here so dramatically. His hesitance only lasted a moment, though. Soon enough he was back in motion, turning away from Gemma and looking directly into camera. He paused again, letting out a slow breath.

And then he launched right into it.

“None of this is Poppy’s fault,” he said, and if I wasn’t already seated, my knees would have given out under me. I held my breath as he pressed on. “It was my idea to fake our relationship. I was the one who came up with the plan. I was the one who convinced her to go along with it. I wanted to win Bella Amore. It was all me, not Poppy.”

A hushed silence fell across the set around me, no one daring to interrupt Callum or even breathe loudly. I hadn’t moved a muscle since hearing his voice.

Behind the camera, however, it was pure chaos. Producers were visibly scrambling, pantomiming at cameramen to readjust shots and get Callum in frame. A boom mic appeared out of nowhere, dropping down to catch his last few words. Gemma had been frozen in place, trying to make sense of the cues that were being thrown at her from behind camera and the voices that were no doubt screaming into her earpiece.

“It started out fake, yes,” Callum said, still staring down the camera. “But then it changed and it turned into the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Poppy is the best thing and I—”

He stopped then, as though it suddenly dawned on him that he was saying all of this out loud and to a live studio audience. He turned his back on the camera and faced me.

“I’m sorry,” he mouthed.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as I tried to wrap my head around what had just happened.

Moments passed and Gemma’s eyes bounced from me to Callum and then beyond to the producers gesticulating wildly behind camera.

“Well, folks,” she said, slowly walking toward Callum, as though not to spook him. “We’re clearly off to a wild start here at the Bella Amore reunion. We’re going to take a quick break but don’t go far, there’s plenty more where that came from.”

The entire studio froze at Gemma’s words, holding its collective breath while waiting on the camera’s red light to go dark and the commercial break to begin.

And then it did. A producer called out that we were off air, and it was pandemonium. Both Ben and Harry immediately emerged from behind the cameras, beelining to us. Ben was loudly scolding Callum while Harry was running toward me with a box of tissues. I hadn’t even been crying but I appreciated the sentiment.

A sound tech marched up to Callum, trying to string a microphone wire up his shirt at the same time a hair and makeup team fluttered around him, face powder and hair gel at the ready.

Cecilia even suddenly showed face, emerging from the shadows to hover at the edge of the scene, arms crossed, a look of contemplation set on her face. Was she about to jump into the middle of the melee too?

Callum, however, paid no one any attention. Through it all his eyes had never left mine, and he was now walking right up to where I was still sitting.

“What are you—” I asked.

But before I could finish my sentence, he was grabbing my hand and pulling me up off the couch. My mind was reeling as we came face to face. I couldn’t believe he was here, that he had publicly taken the blame for everything.

And what was that he said—about me being the best thing?

It was all too much to process under the blazing stage lights.

Looking up at him, the weight of what happened between us, and all the things left unsaid, suddenly felt impossibly heavy. He had hurt me; had left me alone when our plan went up in smoke. And yet standing here, staring at him for the first time in two weeks, I couldn’t deny the relief I felt at seeing him again and the warmth blossoming in my chest.

For a moment it felt like we were all alone, like it was just us up on stage.

That moment lasted all of one second, as everyone Callum ignored had simply followed after him and were now surrounding us.

Callum’s expression was serious, but his eyes had that twinkle I had come to adore. He squeezed my hand, turned around, and cut right through the mass of people.

I held on to him as he tugged me across the stage, past the cameras and executives sitting just behind them, and through the studio’s door. He pushed it open and forged ahead, down a hallway and into the first empty green room we came across. Ben and Harry had trailed after us and were closing in, but he simply closed the door in their faces, turning the lock and shutting them out.

And then we were alone. For the first time since that final goodbye. The first time since everything had blown up on us.

“That was quite the entrance,” I said, stepping a few paces away from the door he was leaning against. I needed there to be distance between us or I wouldn’t be able to think straight.

He smiled. It was the same smile I had come to know so well. It was all him, no hint of iciness or disdain. Something deep in my gut stirred to life at the sight of it, but remembering what exactly had happened to get us to this place—locked away in a green room—I tamped it down. I looked away, trying to regain my sense of reality.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I let out a small huff of air, taken aback by him diving right into it.