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“Heartful?”
“Yes, your Heartful charity.”
It was something I was passionate about—funding for families who were struggling with the medical bills of their children and babies undergoing heart surgery. We paid for lodging and food and covered medical expenses, and it was totally funded by people with good hearts. No pun intended.
The money that could come from something like this would help immensely. I would do anything for that charity. My charity.
Now, here I am. Boris has me by the balls, and he knows it. But I can’t help it if I get kicked off the show after the first round. I’ll have technically fulfilled my obligation, right?
“Gentlemen, five minutes,” Headset Lady says before disappearing behind our door again, leaving us all glancing around.
“You nervous?” one of the guys asks me. I haven’t bothered to learn any of their names.
I cock one eyebrow at him. “Nope.” I’d have to care to be nervous. At this point, I’m too busy thinking about how I’m going to blow it to worry about being on TV in front of thousands, if not millions, of viewers.
“Cool. Me neither,” the guy says.
Bullshit. But whatever. I don’t begrudge anyone trying to find love. It’s a basic human need, and since I deal with hearts, I would know. But it’s one I had and no longer find myself needing.
The door opens, and Headset Lady waves us through.
Here’s to losing.
