Her voice hitches with worry. “Should I come?”
“I’m fine.” He flashes her a breezy Fun Dev smile of reassurance before he disappears into the night. Daphne’s childhood home is on a sprawling acre outside of Macon, woods fringing the boundaries. He heads past the golden glow of the floodlights on the back of the house, toward the tall, dark trees and the silence. Out here, his feelings have more room to breathe.
“Dev,” a familiar voice calls behind him. “Wait up!”
He pauses against a beech tree as Ryan’s shadow advances in the dark.
“What’s up?” Ryan asks. “Why’d you bail?”
He lifts his shoulders in a half-assed shrug Ryan probably can’t see. “You know how it is. You’ve seen one Home Kingdom date, you’ve seen them all.”
Dev tilts his head back against the bark and looks up at the sky through the fragmented branches. He can’t remember the last time he could see this many stars.
Ryan clears his throat. “I imagine this is all a lot harder now that you’re fucking the star.”
Dev jerks his head. He must have misheard. Misunderstood. “W-what?”
“It must be harder,” Ryan says, his tone as indifferent as ever. It gives nothing away, even as Dev feels his insides slide down to his feet in panic. “You’re watching the guy you’re sleeping with meet his future in-laws.”
Ryan knows. Dev’s brain seizes painfully around this realization and its fallout. He’d thought they had more time. He’d parceled out the remaining days with Charlie like chocolate in an Advent calendar, and he’d thought they had more time. He thought the clock would end with Charlie proposing to Daphne; he didn’t think it would end with people finding out.
Dev can’t decide what to do or what to say or how to move his arms. Should he deny it? Own it? Beg? Barter? Please. Please don’t tell. Please let us have just a little more time.
“How…？” he tries. “What… why?”
“Come on, Dev.” There’s nothing gloating or vindictive in Ryan’s words, just the usual self-righteous calm. “You flew his best friend to set, and he flew your favorite pop star to South Africa.”
He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.
“I’ve done that job. Before this season, I was the prince’s handler for four years, and do you remember me ever spending my days off hanging out with the guy? Do you remember me happily sharing a living space with him for two months? Of course not.”
“Please don’t tell,” Dev blurts when he finally finds his sentences again. “I know I am ruining the show, but—”
“The show? Dev, I don’t give a shit about the show. I give a shit about you.”
He thinks about Franschhoek, when Ryan didn’t tell him about the overnight date; he thinks about Ryan trying to talk to him about Charlie at the bar; and he thinks about their fight all the way back in week two. He realizes this is a conversation Ryan’s been trying to have with him for a while.
“Dev, what are you doing, hooking up with the talent?”
“I’m in love with him,” he says without thinking.
“So at the end of this thing, is it going to be you accepting that Final Tiara, or is it going to be Daphne Reynolds?”
Dev flinches. “Don’t be cruel.”
“I’m not,” Ryan says. And he’s really not. His tone is tired and a little sad, but it’s not cruel. “I’m being practical. What’s going to happen, Dev? In a week, is Charlie going to get engaged to Daphne?”