Mikki poured another glass of rosé, enjoying the last bit of calm before the storm. In less than twelve hours, she would be meeting her future husband.
She sank into the plush couch and let the sultry voice of Lalah Hathaway melt away her anxiety. Being chosen as the Bachelorette was the most exciting - and nerve-wracking - thing she had ever done in her life. Her therapist was completely to blame.
Following a string of failed relationships, Mikki had decided to seek professional help, hoping to gain insight on why her relationships always ended in tears and dark chocolate binges. Her therapist had suggested she try something outside of her comfort zone. So, when her girlfriends plied her with wine and dared her to audition for
The Bachelorette
, Mikki accepted.
Two months later, here she was lounging in an upscale hotel room on the brink of embarking on the most terrifying journey of her life. More than not finding a husband, Mikki feared making a fool of herself on national television. A career in civil defense litigation meant she couldn't afford to become a laughing stock.
A heavy knock on the hotel door disrupted her anxious thoughts. It was after eight o'clock and she wasn't expecting any visitors. She was also under strict orders to get her beauty sleep for tomorrow's shoot.
"Mikki, it's me," a voice said from the other side of the door. "Steve."
Mikki shot up from the couch. "Coming!" She rushed to the mirror to adjust her sloppy bun and smooth her eyebrows.
She opened the door to Steve holding a bag of popcorn and a bottle of merlot. "I come bearing gifts," he said, eyeing her black yoga pants and baggy Spelman t-shirt. "I hope I didn't wake you."
"I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to," Mikki said. She motioned for him to come in.
"The night before is always the hardest," Steve said, stepping into the room. "Once you meet the men, the nerves will subside. And with the ten-hour shoots, you'll sleep like a baby."
This was Steve's thirteenth year hosting the show. Mikki readily accepted his advice.
He handed Mikki a short stack of papers. "Finally got the rest of the bios," he said. "Sorry for the delay, the producers had trouble agreeing on the last five guys. I'm not to leave without your top and bottom three."
"I'm surprised you didn't just shoot me an email," Mikki said, though she was grateful for the company.
"Not a fan of special deliveries?" Steve quirked an eyebrow.
"lt's not that I don't appreciate surprises. I just like a little advance notice."
Steve cracked a smile. "I'll make a note of that." He made his way to the kitchen. "We'll need wine. Opener?"
"On the counter near the fridge."
Steve maneuvered through the kitchen with purpose, uncorking the wine and searching for glasses. Mikki liked the way his body moved in fitted black jeans and the way his back muscles stretched his denim button-down shirt.
Ever since he'd visited her hometown, she felt connected to him, as though they'd been friends for years. A few weeks prior, he'd come for a preliminary interview and ended up charming her entire family, including her Federal judge father. Her parents had been skeptical about the show and concerned over how Mikki would be portrayed as the first African-American Bachelorette. Steve had masterfully allayed their concerns, making them supporters in the end.
Mikki joined him in the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. She scoffed at the first bio. "'Internet Enthusiast'? Please tell me this man has an actual job."
Steve chuckled. "He's a columnist for a popular entertainment blog. Guess he thought 'Internet Enthusiast' would help him stand out."
"Well, it just earned him a spot in the bottom three."
Steve whistled. "You're the toughest Bachelorette to date."
He joined her at the island, balancing two glasses of wine and a bowl of popcorn. She recalled Steve had worked as a waiter in Beverly Hills before he'd gotten his big break as the host of the Bachelorette.
"I'm looking for a husband, not someone to increase my Instagram followers," Mikki said.
Steve laughed and reached for the popcorn at the same time as her. Their hands touched. Mikki glanced up to find Steve staring at her. He edged his hand away.
"Ladies first," Steve said with a half-smile, his eyes still glued on her.
"Such a gentleman," she joked, though his playful chivalry secretly turned her on. She found it refreshing that he was as much of a gentleman in person as he was on TV. Mikki found it difficult to doubt his sincerity, which was a big deal for a cynic like her.
"Hmm?" she asked, not having caught what he said because she was too focused on how sexy his lips looked when he talked.
"There are definitely a few wild cards -- the producers need ratings. But I promise you, there really are some great candidates among the bunch. Our matchmakers are the best in the business."
Mikki flipped through the rest of the bios, taking notes on things she liked and disliked about each man. With no accompanying pictures, she could only judge the men by their responses to an in-depth list of personal questions.
The next song in her playlist started, Lalah Hathaway covering
Angel
for a live audience. Mikki hummed along as she finished up her notes.
"Anita's better," Steve said.
Mikki shook her head. "Anita's a queen, but I can't agree with you on that one, even if you are from my hometown." She'd found out Steve had grown up only a few miles from her.
"We'll have to agree to disagree then." Steve flashed his thousand-watt smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
Mikki ignored the butterflies in her stomach, writing down her top and bottom three. She handed the list to Steve.
"Thanks," he said, examining the sheet. "We'll make sure to interview these six tomorrow." He paused. "Hmmph...interesting."
"What?" Mikki refilled her glass with wine, riding the oncoming buzz.
"Ronnie's in your top three. I didn't think you'd go for a jock."
Mikki was amused. "Former jock." Though, she wasn't about to admit she'd only dated athletes in college. "Based on his responses, he seems witty."
"Witty? He listed 'home plate' as the craziest place he's had sex."
"That's nothing compared to my response."
"Really? Which is what?"
"I plead the fifth." She refilled his glass. "Have some more wine."
Later, Mikki and Steve lounged on the couch, their feet propped up on the coffee table. She had expected Steve to call it a night hours ago, but he was still here and she wasn't about to ask him to leave.
"Why are you still single?" Steve asked, after a comfortable pause in their conversation.
"There are two things you should never ask a woman," Mikki said, "her age and why she's single."
"Come on, it's a compliment," Steve said, turning to face her. "I mean, you're smart, funny...beautiful. And you're not afraid to challenge yourself. You should have guys knocking down your door."
"Believe it or not, some men are intimidated by a woman who can speak three languages and isn't afraid to express her opinion. Especially a black woman."
"Those guys are idiots."
"Hence, why I'm still single."
