Intermission: The Audience's Picks

The crickets were louder than the ocean. That was the first thing Andy registered when he blinked awake under the lights of the gazebo: the thick, summery drone of insects, the damp wood under his feet, and the salty dark that made the world outside the circle vanish to black. He was in the Master’s Throne—he’d never once gotten used to the name—and around him were the thirteen women, each in a white-painted stool like they’d been assigned seats by their own private geometry.

Arabella stood in the center. She was the only one standing, and she smiled at him like they’d just arrived at the world’s oddest night school. She wore a navy blue dress that should have been out of place but wasn’t, and a thin gold circlet across her brow, glinting under the fairy bulbs that ringed the ceiling. The light was sharp and cold, making everyone’s skin look like sugar frosting.

Andy took a mental roll call, just to be sure they were all real. Norah, to his left, perched on a stool despite the four-inch stilettos, legs crossed and back arrow-straight, her hair a black wave framing her face. Marissa, next, her blouse unbuttoned just to the edge of decency, notebook in her lap, smiling like she already knew what would happen. Emi, holding her own knees, her other hands folded in a perfect chain on the hem of her skirt, blinking in the light as if the night itself had been a dream she’d rather not left. Erin, next—he distinctly remembered falling asleep on her chest, and idly wondered if this was the dream that resulted from it. She was barefoot, despite the damp, and her feet curled under the stool with a cat’s nervous grace.

Sam, next to Erin, slouched and open, the only one with sneakers up on the lowest rail of her stool, her blue hair a mess but her eyes sharp. Claire, beside Sam, had her glasses on and a notebook at the ready, but she was silent, both hands knotted under her chin; she never spoke, but she radiated anticipation so hard Andy could almost feel it. Dawn—J-cups straining the seams of her cotton shirt, sun-browned skin glowing with health—leaned forward, eyes full of questions. Liesa sat next to Dawn, her shoulders bare and her hair in a loose twist, one ankle locked around the leg of her stool, the tilt of her hips somehow both practiced and unselfconscious. Chloe, to Liesa’s right, was already blushing, one hand covering her chest and the other knotted in her skirt, her gaze bouncing from face to face as if she were afraid to catch anyone’s eye.

Riley, of course, all black and denim, was already whispering something to Chloe, a strand of wavy black-red hair reaching to wrap around Chloe’s waist as she leaned in. Emily—pink highlights, naked as always but somehow more modest than the rest, her hair veiling the parts it had to, the rest left to shadows—sat rigid, hugging her knees and staring at Arabella like this was a test. Myra, blind and blank-eyed, had her head tilted to one side, fox ears erect and tails spread across the gazebo floor like a question mark; she was the only one who looked like she might fall asleep again if left alone for a minute. And then there was Laura, doubled: two bodies, perched next to Riley, both with their arms folded tight and their faces locked in perfect, unreadable calm.

There was a pause, a mutual taking of stock. No one spoke for a long moment, as if waiting for someone to cough or clear their throat.

Andy said, “This is a little weird, even for us, right?”

Arabella’s smile turned conspiratorial. “It’s very late, and I do apologize. But it couldn’t wait until morning. This is rather important.”

Erin yawned, then caught herself. “Is this urgent urgent, or just show urgent?”

Arabella shrugged, the gold on her dress winking. “A bit of both. You can blame me. I had to pull all of you from your dreams, but I promise, you’ll be glad I did.”

Emi raised a hand—one of the middle pair, the one she used when she wanted to be noticed but not called on. “Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow? We had the question-and-answer time just at lunch. Some of us haven’t slept.”

“I would have loved to, but after the emotionally exhausting evening some of you had, and given the packed day ahead, I had no other choice,” Arabella said. “Besides, this is the last time I get to gather you all together for this. You deserve a little celebration.”

There was a beat of silence.

Claire lifted her notebook and scribbled. The motion drew all eyes, and she held up the page, the words etched in her tidy calligraphy: Best Girl Poll?

Arabella beamed. “You guessed it.”

Erin snorted, a bubble of laughter. “Of course it’s the poll. It’s always the poll.”

Claire’s face went red to the ears, and she tried to wave the paper away, but Arabella only nodded. “And it’s not the only one. I ran several, given the occasion. Would you like to know what the others were?”

Norah, who had not once changed her posture, said flatly, “Last time Claire won every single poll. If she wins all of them again, she gets a tiara. That’s the rule now.”

A ripple of amusement ran through the harem. Andy found himself grinning, even as Claire’s mortification tripled. He watched her, curious to see if she’d try to hide under the stool, but instead she squared her shoulders and scribbled another line in the notebook.

Marissa, who sat next to Claire, peered at it and translated: “She says, ‘I do not want a tiara.’”

Dawn said, “Too late. We’re voting on it.”

Arabella pressed her palms together. “Thank you. As I mentioned, I ran several polls. Best Girl is tradition, of course, but given that this is the end of the last round and you all have earned enough VPs to trigger the endgame, there was also a poll about who has changed the most, and whose story—their arc—most moved the Audience. I also asked for feedback on your ‘real-world’ date mini-challenge, which was scored in three categories: Most Personal, Most Emotional, and Best Overall.”

Myra said, “That’s a lot of categories.”

Arabella nodded. “I wanted everyone to have a chance to shine. This is the last time we’ll be all together like this.”

A hush fell. Andy felt, more than heard, the way everyone’s attention ratcheted up a notch. He glanced down the line—at Dawn’s eyes, soft and proud, at Chloe’s hands trembling in her lap, at the way Liesa caught her lower lip with her teeth, thinking.

Arabella didn’t hesitate, didn’t drag it out like she might have in earlier rounds. She just said, “I’ll begin, then. Winner of the Best Girl poll, with 9.55% percent of the vote, is, of course… Claire.”

Silence, then a wave of noise. Claire’s eyes went so wide that for a second Andy thought she might pass out. She shook her head, once, fast, then she slumped forward, both hands covering her face.

The rest of the harem erupted in a low, rising ovation. Erin suddenly snorted and, with zero warning, reached over and pulled Claire into a hug. Because of Claire’s small frame and Erin’s own size, her breasts almost completely engulfed the catgirl. “That’s my best girl,” said Erin, fondly. Andy saw Claire nearly fall off the stool from the force of it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

Andy caught Claire’s emotions. She felt mortified, but the kind of mortified that had happiness welded to it, as if she’d been given the world’s most embarrassing birthday present and couldn’t decide whether to hide or show it off.

Arabella waited for the applause to die down, then said, “I should add that I have never had a season like this. Claire has consistently claimed the top spot in every round. Shared at times, but never relinquished. The only poll she did not win was the one held on Day Zero. She was second, even then.”

Sam, laughing, said, “So, tiara confirmed?”

Norah let a dry smile slip. “That’s how it started last time, too. By the third poll, she’d swept so hard I thought about just filing a lawsuit.”

“On what grounds?” said Riley.

“Unfair advantage,” said Norah. “The shyness thing is an illegal performance enhancer. You could run a whole pharmaceutical on it.”

Claire finally lowered her hands, cheeks scarlet. She scribbled furiously in the notebook and held up a sign that read: Thank you but please never do this again.

Arabella, beaming with pride, said, “This means Claire is officially, as one of our favorite readers put it, ‘Maximum Best Girl.’”

Riley, grinning, said, “Maximum Best Girl sounds like a bootleg anime I’d absolutely watch.”

Sam raised a fist. “All hail Maximum Best Girl.”

The laughter was bigger this time, with Claire at the center of it, still bewildered but—Andy could see—glowing. Arabella allowed the moment to linger, then said, “In second place, with 9.06 percent, is Erin.”

This time the cheer was instant and universal. Erin—still standing, her arms around Claire’s shoulders—whooped so loud it made Chloe jump.

Marissa, noting the numbers, said, “That’s… awfully close. Less than half a point.”

Andy said, “You deserved it, Erin. More than deserved it.”

Erin took that in, nodding once, and Andy saw something ease in her posture—a tightness in her shoulders that relaxed, a defensiveness that fell away.

Arabella continued, “Next, there’s a four-way tie for third place. The Audience, it seems, loves the group more than any single Haremette. Dawn, Laura, Riley, and Sam all tied for third place, at 8.80%.”

Dawn’s mouth dropped open. “I’m tied with three people?”

Erin squeezed Dawn’s hand. “It’s what you get for being so damn lovable.”

Riley, deadpan, said, “We are the four pillars of Haremette-hood.”

Sam snorted. “Does that make Andy a roof?”

There was a brief pause, and Norah took the opportunity to say, “For the record, we may have made a mistake accepting the term ‘Haremettes’ earlier today. It’s already out of control.”

Riley, eyes flicking to Norah, said, “Too late. Once it’s in the discourse, it’s in the genome.”

Arabella laughed, then said, “After that, things get interesting. For a while, the entire bottom half of the poll was a dead tie. But a few late votes clarified the situation. Next is Emi, with 7.78%.”

Emi made a tiny, delighted noise, covering her mouth with all six hands. “I can’t believe it.”

Andy smiled at her. “I can.”

Dawn, genuine, said, “You’ve really come out of your shell these last weeks.”

Arabella continued, “Then, in fifth, is Chloe, with 6.61%.”

Chloe gasped, then immediately blushed so hard she matched the streaks in her own hair. Riley, pulling her close, said, “You’re the winner in my book.”

“In sixth, there’s another tie, a three-way one this time,” said Arabella. “Marissa, Myra, and Liesa, each with 6.38%.”

Liesa whooped, eyes bright. “Three-way tie? Am honored!”

Sam high-fived her. “You’re all the wild cards. It’s perfect.”

Myra, tails shifting in slow arcs behind her, just smiled, content. Claire and Erin both reached over to squeeze Marissa’s hands, which she accepted with a small, private smile.

Arabella, now almost done, said, “That leaves our last tie: Norah and Emily, both at 6.34%. But, given the numbers, it’s more or less a tie with the group above.”

Norah, dignified, nodded. “Tied with the naked Haremette. Appropriate, given our history.”

Erin affected being offended. “Hey! There’s three naked Haremettes now. Keep up!”

Emily, laughing, said, “We’re all very competitive.”

The harem let out a collective breath, and Andy felt a sense of genuine contentment ripple through the group, the way it sometimes does when nobody’s keeping score anymore.

---

Arabella gave them a second to settle, then lifted a finger and said, “Next is the Best Arc poll. This one celebrates the girl whose personal story, across the season, showed the most change or growth. Not all of you may have, and that’s not a bad thing. As one of our more perceptive readers put it—”

She glanced at her clipboard, but Andy could tell she’d memorized the quote. “‘Claire is best girl, day one, non-stop. Maximum Best Girl, zero arc, because her story didn’t need it. To a certain extent, Dawn is the same. She just needs to be the Dawn-est Dawn she can be and the universe is better for it. But Riley? Emily? All about the journey, not the best-ness.’ That being said, 9 VPs will be assigned to the winner, with each position after earning 2 less VPs.”

Andy watched the words land: Claire blinked as she realized she’d just been called “Maximum Best Girl” for a second time. She wrote something and showed it to the group: Can I get a business card with that on it?

Dawn, equally delighted, said, “My arc is to stay Dawn?”

Arabella nodded. “You’re perfect as you are, my dear.”

Dawn, genuinely touched, just said, “Thank you,”

Arabella’s smile was gentle. “The reader in question was correct, because our winner—by a good margin—is Riley, with 12.83% of the vote.”

Riley’s eyebrows lifted, a rare break in her composure. She blinked once, twice, then said, “That’s… actually a lot.”

Chloe, next to her, threw her arms around Riley’s neck and hugged her, almost knocking the pen from Riley’s hand. “I’m so happy for you!” she squealed. “You really did change, you know.”

Andy watched them, feeling a warmth in his chest that he hadn’t anticipated. He looked at Riley’s face, the genuine bewilderment there, and thought: She earned this. She really did. Laura’s two bodies spoke at once: “I’m proud of you, Rye.” Myra, on the next stool, echoed it, her tails sweeping across the floor like a paintbrush.

Norah, dry as dust, said, “She also wins Most Improved, and Best Recovery from a Crisis.”

Riley deadpanned, “Is there a trophy for that?”

Arabella grinned. “I think the tiara is a group project, now.”

Riley, laughing, said, “I’m going to make Andy wear it.”

Andy, hands up, replied, “I’ll wear whatever you want, Riley.”

That got a big laugh, and Andy felt the energy in the room climb another notch. Arabella let the moment go, then said, “Second place, with 10.87%, is Erin.”

Erin did a double-take, then said, “Wait, that’s—second? Seriously?”

Norah, quick, said, “You went from angry ex to naked green goddess. That’s some growth.”

Erin, rolling her eyes, said, “Yeah, well, I did undergo significant growth.” She lifted both breasts, then let them drop, the bounce exaggerated and impossible to ignore.

Chloe lost it. Arabella, never missing a beat, said, “Third place is Myra, with 10.07%.”

Myra, tails twitching in surprise, said, “Really?”

Laura said, softly, “We saw it happen. You deserve it.” Myra looked down, visibly moved.

Arabella turned, “Fourth place: Laura, with 9.21% of the vote.”

Both of Laura’s faces registered a shock so perfect that Andy almost laughed. One of her stared at her hands, the other out at the ocean; for a moment, neither moved or spoke, and Andy could feel the world contract around her. “I’m not sure how to react to that,” she said, finally, both voices trembling.

Chloe, always eager, said, “I think it means you’re more loved than you thought,” and looked around for confirmation.

Andy didn’t hesitate. “You are,” he said, quietly but clearly.

Arabella smiled, and it was a real smile, a crack of genuine warmth behind the Host mask. “You did very well, Laura. Not everyone could have weathered what you did.” She looked at the rest of the harem. “In fifth place, Marissa, with 7.94% of the votes.”

Claire hastily scribbled a note and handed it over; Marissa read it, then laughed. “She says I’m finally a girlboss, and I’m required to wear sunglasses indoors now.”

Sam cackled. “I can get you a pair of those for tomorrow.”

Marissa said, “No need, I’ll just borrow Claire’s aura of invincibility.”

The group laughed, and the tension in the circle loosened a bit. Arabella scanned her clipboard, then: “Next up is Claire, at 7.19%.”

Andy watched Claire scan the numbers, then look up, relief almost visible on her skin. She wrote something new and held it up: I’m so glad. I was starting to worry the votes were rigged in my favor.

Dawn, seeing it, snorted. “Like you’d need a rig. You could win a popularity contest in a coma.”

Claire blushed so hard she almost matched Riley’s hair, but she didn’t look away. She scribbled again: I appreciate the support, but I’m happy to cede the tiara.

Chloe said, “Never, ever cede the tiara. That’s bad luck for the entire harem.”

Andy caught himself smiling, and realized he was enjoying this even more than he’d expected. Arabella, finally, said: “After Claire comes a three-way tie—Liesa, Norah, and Emily, each with 6.73%.”

Liesa whooped, a high-bright noise that startled even herself, then flung both arms around Sam’s neck. Emily, in her usual modest nudity, just grinned, the tips of her ears coloring faintly pink. She looked delighted. “I’ve never been tied for these polls before, and this is twice already. That’s kind of awesome.”

Riley, never missing an opening, said, “I’m sure it has happened before. But if you want to be tied again, I’m sure I can arrange a seminar.”

Chloe, in a moment of bravery, nodded, “I can help.”

Arabella waited for the laughter to die down, then continued: “Eighth place is another tie, between Emi and Dawn, both at 5.64%.”

Both women looked at each other, then almost immediately hugged, all six of Emi’s arms wrapping Dawn in a cocoon of affection. “I’m so happy to be with you,” Emi said, her voice thick.

Dawn, never one to overthink, just beamed. “It’s like we’re harem twins.”

Chloe, tearing up, said, “You’re already the Dawn-est Dawn I’ve ever met. Of course you didn’t need a big dramatic arc.”

Emily, from two seats down, joined in: “I wish I’d had a Dawn when I was growing up. Maybe then I’d be less of a mess.”

Dawn, blushing, said, “That’s the best compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Arabella was in her element, but Andy could see her fighting to keep the mood from tipping too sentimental. “Sam, you’re right behind, with 5.35%.”

Liesa, without a beat, said, “But she’s first in our hearts.”

Andy shrugged, “You’ve anchored me more times than I can count. I hope you know that.”

Sam tipped her head in acknowledgement.

Arabella checked the list. “And finally: Chloe, with 5.06%.”

Chloe, touched, bit her lip, and said, “I just like being part of the group.” She looked at Andy, shy and honest.

Riley, unprompted, pulled Chloe into her lap and kissed her temple. “You never needed permission, Chlo. You’re the heart of this place.”

For a second, the entire group seemed to settle. The late-night wind rattled the sides of the gazebo. Arabella waited a respectful moment. Then she tapped her clipboard and said, “Now that we’ve settled the Best Arc poll, it’s time to move on to tonight’s main event: the results of the real-world date mini-challenge.” She gave the group a sly smile. “If you thought this was dramatic, just wait until you see what comes next.”

---

She lifted her clipboard with a prim flourish and, in her best Host voice, said, “The next poll is the Most Personal Date. This reflects how much each date felt like a true extension of the Contestant who organized it, or how much it revealed facets of that Contestant we’d never seen before.” She glanced around the ring of white-painted stools, pausing to let the weight of her words land.

“I should remind you,” she added, “that the top three finishers will earn 7, 5, and 3 Victory Points, respectively. Fourth through seventh will earn Bonus Points: 2000, 1500, 1000, and 500. I trust you all remember how valuable these can be, even with the endgame behind the corner.”

The circle nodded in near-perfect sync.

Andy found himself tensing with anticipation, because he wanted so badly for each of them to get their moment in the light. Arabella cleared her throat. “In first place, with 10.28% of the vote, is… Marissa.”

There was a half-second where nobody reacted, and then Marissa herself said, “Wait, really?”

Erin, never subtle, said, “It was a hell of a date. Even if you nearly had Andy break reality in the process.”

Marissa’s face went soft, a quiver of uncertainty chasing the professional smile she wore for these events. “I’m honestly shocked,” she said. “There are so many people here who put more… of themselves into it.”

Claire shook her head, scribbling quick, and passed the notebook. Dawn read it out loud: “‘You made people cry. And you made the rest of us feel things.’”

Andy saw Marissa process it, her composure wavering for a heartbeat. “Thank you,” she said, and Andy heard the catch in her voice. “I mean it.”

Arabella, clearly satisfied, turned the page. “Second place, with 9.94% of the votes, goes to… Riley.”

Riley blinked, once. “I didn’t even know if that counted as a date. I just destroyed him at bowling and tied with him at go-karting. And cried a bit.”

Norah, deadpan, said, “It’s the only date I’ve seen that ends with a resurrection.”

The group howled. Riley ducked her head, hiding behind the curtain of her hair, but there was no mistaking the pride that tugged at the edges of her mouth. “I’m glad people liked it,” she said, which, for her, was as effusive as a marriage proposal.

Andy, unable to help himself, added, “I loved it. Every second.” He said it with an honesty that made even Riley look up and meet his eyes, the connection strong and silent.

Arabella beamed, “In third place, with 9.36%: Liesa.”

Liesa let out a whoop, then immediately covered her mouth. “Sorry. I didn’t expect to be so high up.”

She turned to Sam, who grinned and said, “You did good, Waffles.” Liesa nodded, her cheeks flushed, and Sam, never one for restraint, grabbed her in a bear hug.

Arabella, riding the wave, added, “In fourth, there’s a tie—Dawn and Laura, both with 8.94%.”

Dawn, proud, said, “I’m so happy to be tied with Laura.”

Laura—both of her—smiled, and Andy thought he saw a hint of real joy flicker across both faces, the kind he hadn’t seen in days. “I don’t know what to say,” she said, but her eyes shone.

Emi, seated two places down, said, “You both deserved it. I wish we could all be in the top three.”

Andy said, “If it were up to me, there wouldn’t even be a ranking. You’re all incredible.”

There was a hush, a pause to let it sink in. Arabella, back to business, said, “In fifth, with 8.19%: Erin.”

Erin said, “No way. Mine was barely a date.”

Laura, a little sheepish, said, “I’m sorry about that.”

Erin shook her head, suddenly somber. “No apologies. That’s not what this is about.”

Arabella smiled, then said, “In sixth, it’s Claire, with 7.94%.”

Claire nodded, accepting the result, and Arabella continued, “In seventh, it’s a four-way tie: Emi, Sam, Emily, and Myra, each with 6.43%.”

Emi looked so pleased she nearly dissolved into giggles. “I’m honored,” she said, then, “and also a little surprised. I thought mine was too weird.”

Sam, nonchalant, said, “The more we do this, the more I realize weird is a feature, not a bug.”

Arabella finished with a flourish. “And finally, Norah and Chloe, tied at 5.35%.”

Norah, with classic dry wit, said, “The logistics conference was worth it, then.”

Andy burst out laughing, as did several others. “You made it memorable,” he said.

---

Arabella didn’t let the wind or the hush slow her down. She flipped her clipboard with a crisp motion and said, “And now, for something a little more intense: The Most Emotional Date. This was the date that made the Audience cry, or laugh, or empathize the most with the Contestant who organized it.” She gave them a look—serious, but also proud. “You may want to brace yourselves.”

There was a faint shiver around the circle. Andy watched as Chloe twisted both hands in her skirt and Riley’s hair seemed to get even more aggressive about hiding her face. Laura’s two bodies leaned forward, four elbows on knees, identical in their anticipation.

The Host took a breath, and then announced: “In first place, with an impressive 13.47% of the vote… Riley.”

There was no noise, not at first. For a second it was so quiet Andy thought maybe the crickets outside the gazebo had cut out, too. Then Riley exhaled, like she’d been punched, and a single, shocked, “What?” left her mouth.

Chloe, sitting right beside her, made a little squeal and hugged Riley’s arm in both hands. “I knew it, I knew it, I told you—” she started, but Riley was already shaking her head, mouth open, stunned.

Arabella said, “It wasn’t even close. The Audience cried with you on the gravestone, and cheered when JJ was brought back, and then cried for the rest of your date.”

Riley’s voice cracked down the middle: “I don’t even remember half of it. I was just—” She didn’t finish. Chloe pressed herself tighter, and Andy saw Riley’s right hand tangle itself into Chloe’s hair.

Arabella said, “You’re allowed to cry, Riley. I think you already won at that.”

Riley did cry, openly. She looked around the circle, at each of them, and said, “Thank you. I don’t… I didn’t think anyone would care. I thought the audience was after smut, not…” She bit the inside of her cheek, so hard Andy could see the color go out of it, but she held steady. “Thank you.” She blinked, hard. “It’s the best date I ever had.”

Arabella gave them the barest moment to recover, then pressed on. “Second place, with a deeply moving 11%: Laura.”

Both of Laura’s bodies went perfectly still. She looked at Arabella, then at Andy, and then, almost at the same instant, at her own hands. Laura’s voices, when she spoke, were barely above a whisper: “It… it was just a day. We didn’t do anything special.”

Andy, unable to help himself, said, “They loved it, as did I. It was all they wanted. The boring, perfect day in Warrenville, the house—” He stopped. He hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted that too. For sixteen years he had wanted it.

Laura murmured, “I thought it was too normal. I thought maybe you’d be bored.” She put both sets of hands over her mouths at once, and her posture went soft.

Riley, still red-eyed but smiling now, hugged Laura. “You know that’s all we ever wanted for you, right?” she said. “Just a day where you got to keep everything.”

Laura nodded, but she was openly crying now, and Andy knew there was nothing left to say that would help, so he just watched, feeling his own chest tighten and not fighting it for once.

Arabella’s voice was gentle. “Third place, with 10.08%: Marissa.”

Marissa looked up with something like honest shock. “That’s… a lot.” She let the words hang, and Andy watched as she composed herself. “Thank you,” she said, softly.

Claire, who was next to her, reached over and squeezed Marissa’s wrist. It was subtle, but Andy saw it, and he saw how Marissa squeezed back, hard. Arabella wasn’t done. “In fourth, with 8.16%, was Claire.”

Claire, unprepared, did a full-body flinch. She wrote furiously, then held up a page: This must be a mistake.

Sam, who had been content to watch so far, laughed outright. “You never believe it, do you?”

Claire, eyes wide, scribbled again: I thought mine was boring for most people. It was two libraries, Sam. Two.

Sam chuckled fondly. “Just means most of the audience are nerds, Claire. We truly found our people.” Claire just set the notebook down, hands shaking a little.

Arabella moved on, “In fifth, with 7.33%, Myra.”

Myra, still behind her own fox ears, said, “I’m not sure I get it, but thank you.” She gave a small, almost shy smile, tails brushing the floor behind her.

Arabella smiled, as if to herself, and then said, “In sixth, with 6.69%: Emily.”

Emily hid behind her hair, then peeked out long enough to say, “I didn’t think anyone would even vote for mine. I just… wanted to share a part of myself.”

Andy added, “I’m glad you shared it.” Emily gave a tiny nod, lips pressed tight, but he could see her glowing from the inside.

Arabella kept moving. “Seventh: Dawn, with 6.51%.”

Dawn, proud as ever, said, “That’s better than I thought! I’m so happy people liked it.” She turned to Liesa, who had taken her hand again, and gave her a squeeze. “It was good to see my brothers and my Dad, but it was weird not to help during the stay in the cabin.”

Andy, with a laugh, said, “We’ll have to do it again.” Dawn beamed.

Arabella said, “Eighth: Erin, with 6.32%.”

Erin looked at Andy, then away, then back again. “It was more than enough.”

Sam, next to her, gave her a side-hug that nearly toppled both stools. “You always think you’re last, and you never are. Own it, Green Bean.” Erin rolled her eyes, but she took it.

“Ninth,” said Arabella, “is a tie: Norah and Chloe, each with 6.14%.”

Norah, deadpan, said, “Tied with the future mother of half the harem’s children? I’ll take it.”

Chloe, head ducked, said, “I think my favorite part was just… being where I spent my childhood. It felt like a real family day.” She gave Andy a look, shy but happy. “I liked it a lot.”

Andy, gently, said, “It was great. I can see why you loved that place.”

Chloe looked down, but didn’t argue. Arabella continued. “And finally, in tenth, a three-way tie: Emi, Liesa, and Sam, at 6.05% each.”

Emi made a small, delighted sound, all six hands going to her cheeks at once. Liesa, exuberant, hugged her, which set off a chain reaction where Sam ended up getting hugged by both of them, and didn’t look unhappy about it at all.

Arabella, at the last, said, “I think you all made each other proud. You certainly made me proud.” She let it hang, just for a second.

Andy, trying not to be too sentimental about it, just said, “You all deserve the win.”

Arabella watched him, as if she was waiting for a last word, but Andy had nothing clever left. He just sat back and let the moment happen.

---

Arabella gave the group a breath to collect themselves, then rapped her clipboard with a fingernail and said, “Let’s move on to the final Audience poll of the round: Best Overall Date. This one was about which Contestant’s real-world date was judged, by the Audience, to be the most enjoyable, memorable, or moving in total.”

Andy glanced around the ring, catching how everyone straightened, how all the bracing for impact had been replaced by a restless, bright curiosity. Arabella, as always, let the tension sit just the right length before she delivered. “This time, we have a tie for first place. Both with 9.64% of the votes: Laura and Claire.”

For a second, nobody moved. Then, in stereo, both of Laura’s faces lit up with incredulity, and an odd, slow-burning joy. There was a fractional delay before they both said, perfectly synchronized: “I can’t believe it.”

On the other side, Claire—who had absolutely not prepared for this possibility—froze in place. She looked at Arabella, then at Laura, then at Andy, her mouth open. She blinked twice, then shook her head with such violence that Andy worried it might come loose from her shoulders.

Andy was the first to break the gridlock. He stood, stepped toward both of them, and said, “You both deserve it. They were perfect, both of you.” For Laura, he meant the dream-day in Warrenville; for Claire, the library and the secret sharings, the way she’d let Andy see inside every box she kept closed from the rest of the world.

Claire wrote in her notebook with trembling speed and held it up: I am not sure this is real. Please confirm.

Laura, at the same instant, said, “I’m proud, but I don’t even know how to feel about it. I thought everyone would find it boring, or… normal.” Both of her faces were flushed, her hands knotted together in her lap.

Arabella smiled, letting the mutual awkwardness ride for a moment before she said, “It is very real, Claire. And Laura, if there is anything this Audience loves more than extraordinary drama, it’s a perfect day of ordinary happiness.” She looked to Andy, whose throat felt suddenly thick.

He said, “They were both beautiful dates. I mean that.”

Claire scribbled again, then handed her notebook to the nearest person—Erin, who read aloud: “She says, ‘Thank you. No second tiara.’”

Norah barked a laugh. Arabella cleared her throat, and the moment passed without breaking. “Second place, with 8.56%, is Marissa.”

This time, the reaction was immediate and loud. Liesa let out an actual shriek, clapping so hard her hands turned red. Myra turned in her seat and hugged Marissa around the waist, nearly lifting her off the stool.

Marissa, for her part, seemed stunned, if not a little embarrassed. She half-smiled, mouth twisted to keep the emotion contained, and said, “Thank you. I… I don’t know what to say.”

Myra nodded, tails waving. “You’re always downplaying what you do, Marissa. But we all see it.”

Marissa let herself accept it. She put a hand on hers and said, “I appreciate it. I really do.”

Arabella let the applause run its course, then went on. “In third, another three-way tie: Emi, Norah, and Erin. 8.20%, each.”

Emi made a tiny “eep” noise, covered her mouth with all six hands, then started giggling uncontrollably. “I’m so happy! I thought it was too weird, and I was too shy, and I almost bailed…”

Andy cut her off with a laugh. “It was exactly you, Emi. That’s why it mattered.”

Norah, who had been maintaining a look of total indifference, couldn’t help but crack a smile. “Third, huh? Not bad, considering my other placements. I’ll take it.”

Erin, who always had to be the cool head, just nodded and said, “That was honestly unexpected. I was sure I was bottom half. But thank you, everyone.”

Arabella, who by now seemed to be enjoying herself as much as anyone in the ring, added, “Fourth place is Myra, with 7.84%.”

Myra’s fox ears twitched straight up, and she turned in the direction of Arabella’s voice. “Really?” she said, disbelief so naked it might as well have been a tail in its own right.

Arabella nodded, indulgent. “Absolutely. I think your date did more for the Audience than you realize.”

Myra flushed, her hands wringing together. “Thank you,” she said, then looked across the circle at Laura. “Thank you for coming with me. I don’t think I’d have done it if you weren’t there.”

Both of Laura’s faces broke into a smile. “It was one of the best days of my life, too,” she said. “I’ll never forget it.”

Myra nodded, blinking rapidly, and if there had been a single doubt about whether the contest mattered to her, it was gone now. Arabella’s eyes twinkled. “Fifth place—Dawn and Riley, a tie at 7.57%.”

Dawn whooped, a sound that actually startled Chloe off her stool. She turned to Riley and offered her a high-five, which Riley, never one to miss a moment, returned with perfect aim. The redhead smirked, but there was pride in it. “Couldn’t have done better than a tie with Dawn.”

Dawn glowed. “Your date was so fun, though! I wish I’d thought of bowling.”

Arabella continued: “Sixth, with 6.22%, is Chloe.”

Chloe, already pink from the earlier excitement, clapped both hands to her cheeks and went, “Oh wow, I didn’t even—”

Riley cut her off, wrapping both arms around Chloe and hugging her so hard her face nearly disappeared in Riley’s shirt. “You did great,” Riley said, “and you showed him the best parts of your world.”

Chloe’s voice was muffled, but Andy heard her say, “Thank you. I liked it a lot.”

Arabella said, “Seventh, a three-way tie: Sam, Liesa, and Emily. 6.13% each.”

Sam, who had been playing it cool, just grinned and said, “That’s mathematically unlikely, but we’ll take it.”

Andy looked around the circle, saw the way everyone was sitting, relaxed and easy, as if the weight of months had been replaced by something lighter and better. He said, “You all made these dates incredible. Thank you.”

Arabella let the moment stretch, then said, “There is one last poll tonight. It does not affect the Contestants, but I think you’ll want to see the results.”

---

She stepped to the edge of the gazebo, then made a small, sweeping gesture with her hand. The gazebo, which had always been just large enough for Andy and the thirteen women, had now doubled in length. Another row of identical white stools stood at the far end, under their own canopy of light. Sitting on the floor in front of the new stools, tail thumping, was Samson Drei, looking happier than any dog had a right to.

On the stools sat Katherine, her face a perfect mix of confusion and delight, hands folded neatly over her lap; Mildred, arms crossed, wearing an expression of resigned amusement; Anna and Herman, seated beside each other, both unflappable, Anna’s arm casually draped over the back of her stool, Herman in a beige linen suit with a straw hat dangling from his hand; Marie, who wore a set of white pajamas and looked around as if she’d just landed on the moon, eyes wide and curious; Dinah, in sweatpants and a shirt, her feline ears flicking with every sound; Eden, midnight blue hair pooling around her, legs crossed, managing to sit with queenly poise; and finally, on the last stool, a woman with hair cut in a russet bob, her hazel eyes confused, barefooted and wearing a simple red robe.

For a moment, Andy wondered who it might be. Then he looked more closely and he realized with a shudder that he knew her: this was Sandra, but fully human, as if her self-image in the dream carried none of the baggage that her body endured.

He saw Myra’s head snap up, both fox ears and her actual ears pointed straight at Sandra as if to triangulate her out of the crowd. Laura, double-bodied and always ahead of the curve, was already turning to look at Andy, like she knew he’d spotted it too.

And just as Andy was about to say something, she asked, in a voice clear as glass, “Is this a dream?”

Riley’s body went rigid, all the banter and artifice burned away in a single second. She looked at the new row, then at Sandra, and then—slow, deliberate—stood from her stool. She whispered, “Mom?” so soft only Andy and Chloe heard it.

Riley stared at the woman on the end of the guest row like she was a ghost. The entire harem stared. Even the crickets seemed to pause.

Sandra looked down at herself. At the robe. At her feet, flat on the floor, knees bending the way knees were supposed to bend. Then she raised one hand and touched her own throat, and found nothing there, and went very still. She brought the hand down in front of her face. Turned it over. Closed it. Opened it. Closed it again, slow, the way someone tests a lock they don’t trust.

Then she put both hands in her lap and looked at Riley.

Riley let the word hang, her body locked up. Andy couldn’t tell if it was shock or terror or a mix of both. The only sound was the creak of the gazebo floor and a single, gentle woof from Samson Drei, who had already abandoned his spot in front of the guest stools and padded over to press his head against Andy’s knee.

Arabella stepped forward, her smile soft and knowing. “It is a dream,” she said, “but the people are all real.”

Sandra fixed her gaze on Riley and did not look away from her again. “You can see me.”

It wasn’t a question. It was the only part of this she needed confirmed.

“Yeah,” Riley said, and this time the whole group heard it. Her breath left her in a short, ragged burst. “Yeah, Mom. I can see you.”

Sandra took that in the way she took everything in, without moving her face. “How long do I get?”

Arabella said, “For tonight, anything is possible. I thought it only fair to bring everyone together—contestants, friends, those who made the journey possible, and those whose journeys were unfinished.” Her eyes found Sandra, then Riley.

Riley took a trembling step forward. She had none of her usual armor, no sharp wit, no deflection. She was looking at the face and the face was looking back, and Andy could see her cataloguing it the way she catalogued a poem she wasn’t ready to write down yet. The jaw. The mouth. The way the eyebrows sat.

She took another step, then stopped, as if afraid the world would snap shut if she moved too fast.

“You have my face,” Riley said, hoarse and thin.

“You have mine,” Sandra said. “I had it first.”

At that, Riley lost the battle and covered her mouth with her hand, tears springing to her eyes.

There was a long, quiet beat. Then Sandra said, “You look at the screen when you talk to me. You know I could tell.”

Riley, at first, couldn’t answer. When she finally found her voice, it was a whisper. “I didn’t know if you were looking back.”

“Of course I was,” Sandra said, eyes wet. “Every time.”

Sandra stood. Her legs took a second to agree to it, and then they did, and she was upright with nothing to lean on and no one holding her. She crossed the space between them and put her hand flat against Riley’s cheek. Fingers spread. All five of them.

Her voice went, just once. “There,” she said, and mastered it.

Riley’s eyes were streaming now. She took the final step and wrapped her arms around Sandra, burying her face in her mother’s neck. Sandra’s arms snapped around her, and somewhere between them the silver angel caller shifted against Riley’s sternum and chimed, once, very quietly.

Andy watched, unable to look away. He saw Chloe wiping her own eyes, saw Myra’s hands shaking in her lap, saw even Norah’s cool stare soften and go glassy. It wasn’t a scene from the show; it was something else, something real, and it cut straight through every defense in the room.

Two stools down, Marie had gone completely still, looking at Sandra’s face. Thirty years, and this was the first time she was seeing those eyes again.

Marie didn’t get up. She put her hand over Myra’s and kept it there.

Sandra held on. One hand went to the back of Riley’s head, the way a person holds a much smaller child, and stayed there.

“This is what I couldn’t do,” she said into Riley’s hair.

Riley just held on tighter. “None of that right now, Mom,” she said, “none of that, right now.” She was sobbing now, but the words came out hard and clear.

Arabella stepped forward, then knelt beside them, her own eyes shining. She set her hand lightly on Sandra’s back. “I sent you an invitation to the last one,” she said, soft enough that only those nearest could hear. “You said no. So I built one you couldn’t say no to.”

Sandra didn’t look up. “Thank you,” she said, into her daughter’s shoulder.

Sandra, finally, let go. She held Riley at arm’s length and looked her over, as if memorizing the shape of her face. “Where is he?”

Riley’s smile cracked open, trembling, but genuine. “Asleep. We all are, apparently.”

“Good,” Sandra said. “Bring him tomorrow, if you can. Same time.”

Something went out of Sandra’s shoulders that Andy suspected had been in them for thirty years. She huffed once, short, almost a laugh, the driest sound in the gazebo, and it landed on the room harder than crying would have. The rest of the harem, who had been holding their collective breath, let it out as a kind of group sigh. Chloe leaned against Riley, gently, as if to lend her own warmth. Myra, two seats away, wiped her face with the back of her hand, tails curling around her legs for comfort. Dawn, never one to let a happy cry go unshared, was openly sobbing, her head buried in Liesa’s shoulder.

Sandra looked at the circle, really seeing them for the first time. She looked at Myra and Laura, then at the other women in the ring, each one strange and yet not strange at all. Her eyes stopped on Andy.

“You keeps giving her things back,” she said.

Andy shook his head. “She’s doing the work herself.”

“Some of it,” Sandra said, and left it there.

Sandra looked down at her own hands again, and this time she didn’t look away from them for a long moment.

“I have to go back into it,” she said. “When we wake up.”

Riley didn’t smile, exactly. What came onto her face had more ache in it than that. “Then leave the lights on.”

Sandra’s head came up.

“Tomorrow,” Riley said. “When I come. Don’t turn them off. I already know what your hands feel like. I want the rest.”

Sandra looked at her for a long moment and didn’t answer. But she sat back down on the edge of the guest row and pulled Riley down with her, and kept hold of her arm the whole time, and that was an answer of a kind.

Arabella looked out at the double ring of stools, her clipboard balanced on the tips of both hands, as if it weighed nothing at all. “This poll is a little different,” she said, “but I think you’ll all appreciate it. The Audience wanted a chance to recognize the people who supported the harem, who made this season possible—whether they were contestants or not.”

Her smile was gentle, almost motherly. “So, with 21.32% of the vote, the winner is—” and here she paused, milking the moment for all it was worth, “Katherine.”

There was a breathless half-second, then a cheer, first from the harem and then from the guest row. Andy stood up before he even realized he’d moved, a surge of warmth crackling through him. The cheer rolled around the circle, soft at first but swelling as the haremettes joined in. The applause lasted far longer than the moment required, but Andy let it keep going. He looked at Katherine, who was blinking hard, her whole body radiating the kind of frozen, perfect disbelief reserved for lottery winners.

When the noise faded, Arabella said, “You deserve it, Katherine. The Audience said so, and I agree.”

Katherine tried to stand, but her knees gave out, so she stayed sitting and covered her face, shoulders shaking. Anna, next to her, patted her on the back; Herman grinned; even Mildred nodded in solemn approval.

Andy found his voice. “I need to say something,” he said, not caring if it was allowed. The group stilled, and he looked straight at Katherine. “I want you to know how much it meant to me that you were in the Suite with me, at the start. All of it. There were times where I’d have lost my mind if I hadn’t been able to talk to you, or just… not be alone. You made it better, every single night. I hope you know what you mean to me.” He stopped, feeling his throat catch, and shrugged. “To us all.”

Katherine stood this time, slow and unsteady, but made it to her feet. Her eyes were big, glassy with tears, but she held them. She didn’t try to sign or pantomime; she just walked across the gap between the stools and came right up to Andy, stopping only when she was close enough to touch.

Andy opened his arms, and she dove in, her arms tight around his waist and her face buried in his shoulder. The harem cheered again, and this time it was less a formal applause and more a wild, affectionate din, like a wedding that had tipped over into real party. Riley shouted, “You’re part of us, painting girl!” and Dawn echoed, “Always!” The others nodded along.

Andy squeezed Katherine back, careful not to crush her, and murmured, “You are part of us. You always were.” She looked up at him, eyes full, and nodded, a single perfect gesture that carried every thank you she could never speak.

Arabella waited, letting the moment stretch, then said, “In second place, with 16.63% of the vote, is… Mildred.”

There was a brief, startled silence, broken only by Anna, who stage-whispered, “Told you it got good at making coffee.” The laughter rolled down both rows, and Mildred—deadpan as ever—just gave a single, dismissive wave and said, “I should like to thank the Service Department, and nobody else.” She was met with applause anyway, and Arabella laughed.

Next, Arabella turned to the clipboard. “Third place is a tie. With 12.15% of the votes, both Anna and… Samson Drei.”

At this, Samson Drei, who had been reclining at Andy’s feet, suddenly sat up, tail wagging furiously. He barked—one, two, three times—then hopped up and ran to Arabella, who scratched his head and ears with a practiced touch. “Best boy,” she said, and Samson grinned his big, corgi smile, tongue lolling. Anna, never one to miss a beat, stood and performed an exaggerated bow toward the dog.

“I’m in excellent company,” Anna said, then added, “I can’t even be mad.” The laughter was loud, and the harem’s delight at the dog’s triumph was obvious. Even Katherine, face still wet, giggled at the scene.

Arabella grinned. “The Audience loves him, and so do we.”

Andy reached down and ruffled the corgi’s head. “Good boy,” he said, and Samson wagged harder.

Arabella turned to the next result. “In fourth place, with 10.66% of the votes, is Marie.”

Marie didn’t stand or speak; she just nodded once, then glanced at Myra with a searching, questioning look. Myra’s tails curled around the legs of her stool, and she said, “Thank you, Mom.” The words were so soft they barely carried, but Marie heard, and her lips pressed together in a way that made Andy think she was holding back more than just words. The rest of the harem offered a quiet round of applause, less raucous than before but no less sincere.

Arabella smiled, then continued, “In fifth place, with 10.02% of the votes: Dinah.”

Dinah, who had been almost invisible in the guest row, started at her name and blinked. Chloe, unable to help herself, called out, “Thank you for being so good to us! You’re the first OB/GYN whose visits I don’t dread.” The group laughed.

Claire, blushing, lifted her notebook and wrote, Thank you for taking care of us. She handed it down the line to Dinah, who read it and then looked up, visibly moved.

Dinah shrugged, trying to downplay it, but her eyes shone. “It’s my job. I’m just glad you’re all… still around.” Her voice cracked a little on the last words, and Andy felt something twist in his chest.

Erin said, “I’m grateful for you, Dinah. Truly.”

Dinah just nodded, but the warmth stayed on her face. Arabella, beaming at the display, said, “In sixth place, with 7.04%: Herman.”

There was a beat, then Herman said, “I accept this recognition with humility and, more importantly, plausible deniability.”

Anna cracked up, and Arabella snorted, “You’re in the books now, Hermes.”

Herman tipped his straw hat. “As it should be.”

Arabella moved on. “Seventh, with 5.97%: Eden.”

Eden’s reaction was wordless but expressive: she gave a little shimmy, tossing her long blue hair, then dipped her head in a theatrical, slow-motion bow. Her whole presence, as always, was sensual but also full of life and gratitude.

Andy caught her gaze. Eden’s eyes glimmered, and she gave a little nod, then turned to share the look with the rest of the group. Arabella, letting that moment linger, finally said, “And finally, in eighth place, with 4.05%: Sandra.”

There was a gentle silence, and then Sandra said, “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. But I’m glad I am.” She looked at Riley, whose eyes were still wet, and said, “You make me proud every day.”

Riley nodded, unable to say anything more, and Chloe squeezed Riley’s hand for her.

Arabella let the hush build, then said, “Thank you, all of you. I know the Audience struggled with these polls—so many wrote to say they just couldn’t pick a favorite, or that it hurt to choose one over another. More than a few said they simply stopped trying to tweak their rankings and just let their hearts decide.”

She glanced down at her clipboard, then back up. “Laura—one housekeeping item before we move on. You accumulated fifteen VP today. As the Consort, those points need to go to one of the girls. Your choice.”

Laura straightened slightly. “Right now?”

“You have until the bachelorette party kicks off. The Commissary can process it, or you can just pull me aside and tell me the name.” Arabella’s tone was matter-of-fact, but her eyes stayed on Laura a beat longer than necessary.

“I’ll do it,” Laura said. “I promise.”

Andy, standing beside Katherine, watched Arabella as she set her clipboard down and stepped forward into the center of the ring. For a second, she didn’t speak, just stood and looked at each face in the room, the Host mask slipping down to reveal something true and old and full of light.

“This is the last time I get to do this,” Arabella said, and there was a note in her voice that none of them had ever heard before—a blend of pride and longing, as if she were seeing them for the first and last time all at once. “It’s been my honor—my true pleasure—to host you all on The HH. There has never been a season like this, not in all the cycles I’ve seen. I’m proud of you. Every one of you.” She looked at Andy, and then the harem, and then the guest row. “I hope you all know what you’ve built. I hope you never forget it.”

Andy found his voice again. “We know how lucky we have been, having you as our Host.” He meant it, and the others echoed it immediately. “We won’t forget you, Arabella.”

The group responded, each in their own way: a cheer from the women, a chorus of nods from the guest row, and even Samson Drei barked, as if to underline the point.

Arabella, for the first time, looked flustered. She blinked rapidly, then gave a little bow. “Thank you, all of you.”

Andy, not caring about the optics, walked across the circle and, when Arabella nodded, wrapped her into a hug. She stiffened, just for a second, then relaxed and hugged him back, her chin on his shoulder.

“Thank you for everything,” Andy whispered, and he felt, for a moment, the weight of all the seasons she’d carried.

Arabella let him go, then looked at the whole group. “I hope you all find what you need. I really do.”

The night, as if in response, stilled: the crickets silent, the ocean softer, even the breeze through the gazebo paused. Andy looked at the circle—at the women, at the guests, at the Host and the dog and all the memory packed into this last moment—and felt, for the first time, not relief or exhaustion, but something better. Something like peace.

They stayed like that, under the fairy bulbs, the scent of salt and flowers, until the lights began to fade, and the world slowly slipped away.