Epilogue—one year later
It’s been a while since I was behind a bar, but it still feels weird to be on the other side.
Especially in a place like this. With its vaulted ceilings and gleaming dark wood bar, the only thing this place has in common with the Last Chance Bar & Casino is the alcohol.
It’s the type of place in which, a year ago, I would have felt sorely out of place, but these days, it’s my new normal.
Not that I’m exactly comfortable.
I tug at the bottom of my dress. It’s new—one of those ones that fit properly when you try it on, but the moment you sit down, you realize you’ve made a huge mistake.
The fabric is too heavy for August in Los Angeles, but it feels so luxe and expensive that I’ll bear the discomfort, especially since the brand is paying me to wear it. What a world!
The server appears and refreshes my water. “Can I bring you a drink while you wait? A glass of champagne, perhaps?” From his knowing smile, I can guess that he recognizes me.
“Yes, thank you.” I pull out my phone and check the time. My date is four minutes late. My first thought is that I’m being stood up, and I can feel my hackles start to rise. But then I remember to ask myself “What’s real, and what’s a story I’m making up?” Just like my therapist taught me.
I’m not being stood up. He’s four—five—minutes late. The lights feel very bright, and I can feel myself start to sweat. Just breathe, I remind myself.
The waiter appears with my champagne. I take a long drink and feel my jaw soften. I take another sip, and just as I’m setting the glass down, it’s like the air in the room changes. He’s here.
I turn, and the sight of him gives me so much relief. He’s wearing a slim-cut peach-coloured blazer, which so few men could pull off, but with his height and his golden skin, it works. Does it ever work. My stomach flutters.
“Okay, Cleo, it’s showtime,” says Andy, my producer. The cameraman crouched by the table backs away, making room for me to push my chair back to stand up. I adjust the receiver pack and turn to face my date.
He strides across the room to greet me. He’s biting his lip—he’s nervous, too.
He slides his arm around my waist and pulls me in close.
“Hi,” he breathes into my ear. “Sorry I’m late.
” He plants a light kiss on my cheek. He smells so good.
As he pulls away, I look up at him. Honestly, I can’t believe my luck.
“Can we try that again?” Andy calls from the sidelines. “This time with a little more excitement to see each other.”
I giggle. Of course I’m excited to see him—I’m always excited to see Kei—but it’s hard to be effusive when just three hours ago we were both in our sweatpants on the couch watching Love Island.
He gives my bum a squeeze as he passes by, which makes me flush as I remember what we were doing four hours ago.
Cori appears in front of me, wielding a fluffy brush with which he immediately starts dusting my face. After I got back from camp, and the television appearances started, I officially hired him to be my makeup artist, and he’s steadily been building his list of clients ever since.
“Stop sweating, your eyeliner is smudged,” he says, poking at me with a cotton swab.
I scowl at him and he scowls right back, but before he leaves, he plants a kiss on my cheek. “She was my girl first,” he says to Kei.
Kei nods, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Understood,” he says. He blushes as Cori kisses his cheek as well.
“Places, everyone,” Andy calls. I take my seat, tugging at my dress to make sure it covers all the important parts.
For this take, we act like we don’t pee with the door open, and Andy seems satisfied. The waiter brings Kei a glass of champagne. If he recognized me, then he’s fully starstruck by Kei.
“I’m a huge fan,” he blurts out. “‘In the Lake’ got me through my breakup. It’s such an amazing song.”
Kei’s cheeks redden. “Thank you for saying that,” he says, quietly. He agrees to a photo, smiling patiently and being so kind, the way he always is. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to that,” he says, after Andy has to gently but firmly guide the waiter away.
“Well, get used to it, because once the album is out, it’s going to happen all the time.”
“Cheers to that,” he says, raising his glass. I clink his glass, but I’m having trouble catching his eye.
“Is everything okay?”
He smooths his hands down his thighs. “Yes. Yeah, just nervous about this reunion special, I guess.” He smiles, like he’s clicking back into reality. “How about you? Are you excited?”
He knows how I’m feeling. We’ve talked about it at length for the last several weeks. But this is for the cameras.
“I’m a little nervous, too. It’s going to be weird to relive it all. But I’m mostly excited to see everyone.”
He grasps my hands across the table. “When was the last time you saw anyone from camp?” This he also knows.
“Well, Harmony and I had that weekend in New York in June, but other than that, I haven’t seen anyone since we left the hospital.”
“Except Sue-Ellen.”
“Oh, right. How could I forget the most surreal day of my life?” I say, laughing.
After we left the hospital, we were met with what could only be described as a media firestorm.
We were a sensation, and everyone wanted a piece of us.
We went on talk shows, late-night shows, pod-casts—people could not get enough of us and our story.
But the wildest thing of all was when the Prime Minister—the freaking Prime Minister of Canada—invited me and Sue-Ellen to have lunch at 24 Sussex Drive so he could thank us for our bravery.
Me, self-proclaimed dirtbag and reformed scam artist, dining with one of the leaders of the free world. What is this life?
“Can I pour you another glass of champagne?” The waiter has reappeared, studiously ignoring Kei so he can keep his cool.
I cover my glass with my hand. “I’d better not, thanks.”
“Look at you, so responsible,” Kei says.
“Right? I just really want to nail my audition in the morning.”
He squeezes my hand. We chat through dinner, trying to sound natural as we follow the producer’s prompts.
I know the point is to catch the audience up on our lives, but it feels silly to ask Kei if he likes living together in our new West Hollywood apartment.
I know, as the only remaining couple from Camp Couple-Up, that people are interested in our story, especially now they’ve seen the footage.
I have to say, I’m proud of myself for that idea.
After Tyler and Gabby were caught, the police confiscated the footage from the show as evidence.
Once they were charged (second-degree murder, fraud, reckless endangerment, and a slew of other offences) and the case was considered closed, the police offered the footage to us, the campers.
We weren’t sure what to do with it at first—it was hundreds of hours of mostly boring day-to-day stuff—but I had the idea to pitch it to some (legit) production companies.
We ended up selling it, along with the story rights, for a small fortune, which was shared between the original ten campers.
It was enough for me to save my mom’s house, which we promptly sold, and then we both moved to LA, where I rented her an apartment right next to mine and Kei’s.
She’s working fifteen hours a week at the bank, and it’s the best I’ve seen her in years.
The game changer, though, was what the new production company did with the footage.
We all expected it to be made into a documentary, but instead, they made it into a dating show, exactly as it was intended to be.
The twist, though, was that since everyone knew it was a scam, they really played that up in editing, resulting in a hilarious and heart-wrenching train wreck that millions of viewers could not tear their eyes away from.
It was, as Tyler promised me on that first phone call, absolutely massive.
That’s when everything changed. I got flooded with offers from agents, and I chose one who looks like a teddy bear but is really a shark.
Kei started getting calls from record labels and producers, and he recorded his first single, which blew up immediately.
We’re living our dreams, and we’re doing it together.
And now, tonight, we’re closing the book on Camp Couple-Up. After the reunion special is done we’ll all move forward, leaving this strange chapter behind us. I’m ready for it. I know some people will always see me as a camper, but I want more than that.
“Are you ready?” Kei asks. I smile and nod. Kei exhales slowly, grimacing.
“Are you okay?” I ask. He’s gone a bit pale. “Are your sugars okay?”
Now that he can afford American health insurance, Kei recently got an insulin pump, which has been such a positive change for him, but there’s been a learning curve.
He gives me a pained smile. “I’m fine.”
We’re just about to get in the car to head to the reunion when he grabs my arm. “Cleo, wait,” he says, in a choked voice. “Hey guys, I just need a minute with Cleo, okay?”
He looks so serious I immediately start to panic. This is where he tells me he’s leaving. This is where he tells me he doesn’t love me anymore, that he never did.
He pulls me into an alley around the back of the restaurant. “I’ve made a huge mistake.”
I stop breathing. “What?” I whisper, not really sure I want to know the answer.
“It’s just—I told Andy, which was stupid, but he got really excited, and he convinced me to do it on the show, which I know is a terrible idea, but I just got caught up in his excitement.”
I’m confused. He’s not breaking up with me. Is he? “Kei, what are you talking about?”
He reaches into the inside of his jacket and pulls out a small box. “This,” he says, handing it to me. “Open it.”
My hands are shaking as I pry the box open. Inside, there is a ring, two delicate strands of gold wound together, nestling a small freshwater pearl. I recognize the ring it from the hospital gift shop. The pearl came from our lake.
“It’s not much, I know, but I’ll get you a better one later, I promise.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell him, my voice shaking.
“I just want you to know that this is me asking you because I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’m not doing it for the cameras or for the show. In fact, I won’t do it at all if you don’t want me to.”
I shake my head. “No, no. I want you to.”
“You do?” Kei tips my chin up, so our eyes meet. I nod, and a smile stretches across his face. He pulls me in close and kisses me. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too,” I say, wiping my eye, probably smudging my makeup. Cori is going to kill me.
“Can you act surprised when I ask you on camera?”
I burst out laughing. “Yes, I think I can manage that.” We kiss again.
“Come on, you two, we’ve got to get to the studio, and traffic’s a nightmare,” Andy calls from the car.
“Coming!”
Kei takes my hand. For one last time, we go to pretend for the cameras.