Chapter 16 Home
HOME
GOOD NEIGHBOURS
brOOKE
“I wonder what they’ll throw at us this time,” Clyde says, sipping his morning coffee as we all meet on our roofs, beginning Day Thirty as a group of five couples.
“Anything is better than tuna.” Dakota looks apologetic when Sadie grimaces and holds her stomach. I didn’t think a case of food poisoning could get much worse, but a week of only tuna packets has been a level of psychological warfare I wasn’t prepared for.
When we were offered fifteen thousand dollars and the fully-loaded Ram 3000 pulling our trailers to leave the game or a mystery box with a happy heart printed on it to stay, Owen and I were one of only five couples who took the box—and received five days’ worth of tuna packets to eat.
And only tuna.
“I’d walk off this roof right now for a rare steak,” Gloria chimes, sipping her tea, still wearing her ankle length nightgown and bonnet. I want to be her when I grow up. “Heck, I’d take a cow on a leash if it meant my skin didn’t smell like fish.”
I wish I didn’t know exactly what she was describing.
“What I’m really craving,” Haven says melodically, “is a nice pile of wheatgrass pancakes with homemade, coconut cream whipped topping, and golden sprinkles.”
“Golden sprinkles?” I’m shocked. I can’t imagine Haven consuming anything deemed as lowly as refined sugar.
“Yes, Brooke,” she replies, and now I’m ten and just answered the teacher correctly.
Top marks, Brooke. You’ve pleased the professor.
A professor whose skin is glowing with the sudden increase in omega fatty acids and probably doesn’t smell like the chicken of the sea.
“They’re sprinkles made from moscovado and dusted with actual gold. It’s Peace Blue’s favorite treat.”
Peace Blue being their oldest child, who at eight years of age, I’d wager, was breastfed right up until they left for this competition.
Ocean rubs his hand over his belly like he can just taste those gold flakes now.
Owen leans towards me, whispering in my ear under the guise of a kiss on my cheek. “Who ever thought the Veggies would outlast the homesteaders from Mississippi?"
“Who knew a wheatgrass, gold dust combo could actually sound appetizing?” I smile into my coffee, the first real taste I’ve had of anything aside from water and tuna in five days.
And though the food situation and the subsequent smell in our Tink has been less than ideal, things with Owen since being run over with that food poisoning could not be better.
It’s a lot like we’re on a honeymoon, of sorts. One with more cameras or canned tuna than I ever would have imagined—or preferred—and a cast of kooky characters tagging along beside us. But it has been an unexpected gift, nonetheless.
I know him better than I know anyone, but the last thirty days of confinement have reminded me of what it is to be loved by Owen. And it’s now clear to me, more than ever, that he has always loved me. And I’ve felt the same, even if I couldn’t admit it to myself or to Owen until the other night.
The production team skitters around the lawn outside our Tinkerbells, readying the set, Sumer’s podium, and all the cameras for our morning of filming.
Owen and I have already agreed that no matter the amount offered, we won’t accept.
We’re prepared to stay until the end. So today, we’ll likely get some sort of mystery box, Owen will meet with his physical therapist, then we’ll have marriage counseling this afternoon.
Something I’m strangely looking forward to for the first time.
“Morning, Todd,” Owen greets our quiet cameraman, offering him a cup of coffee when he climbs over the ladder to our roof. Todd silently takes the mug, nodding his thanks and setting up. “I’m gonna need you to hurry things along so I can make out with my wife.”
I roll my eyes.
Todd blushes like he hasn’t seen us kiss countless times before, but now that Owen’s called him out on it, it makes it seem all the more voyeuristic than simply the nature of his chosen career.
For all the talk of wrestling from Gloria and Sadie across my roof, you’d think Todd wouldn’t be embarrassed by anything.
“Take your time, Toddy Boy.” Yes, I gave our King’s Guard a pet name. “Owen can kiss me whenever he likes.”
I stick my finger in the dimple in Owen’s cheek. He turns quickly and nips at it.
That animal, Gretchen, squeals with delight. She loves a good chase.
I thought for sure after my confession the other night, Owen would give up this unspoken rule about when and where he’s open with affection, but I know he’s been more than patient with me, so I’m trying to be the same for him.
Though, it would be more than nice to kiss my husband without our cameraman present.
The countdown to filming begins, then Sumer does her usual intro, a recap of our last offer, and reveals which couples are left in the game. The Yankees, the Woodhouses, Ocean and Haven, Owen and me, and the Remillards are all who remain in our dwindling circle of competitors.
“On your thirtieth day of the competition, I’d like to offer you something we’ve never seen before on Suite Hearts.
You have the chance to vote another couple out of the competition completely and receive twenty thousand dollars to leave as well, or you can take a chance on a mystery box.
” Sumer looks absolutely giddy over this conundrum, though I can’t imagine anyone in our group actually voting someone off. We all really like each other.
She flips her long, wavy blonde hair, which looks amazing in this humidity.
I wonder what products she uses? “To keep things interesting, each mystery box holds a different stay-or-leave choice, but one.” There’s a giant pause for dramatic effect and the camera narrows in on the five boxes placed on a stage under the jumbotron.
“One box holds an automatic elimination inside. You’ll be choosing your box in Tink numbered order, and you have sixty seconds to decide.
Take the guarantee of twenty thousand dollars, but you must bring another couple with you, or a potential automatic elimination with no cash prize. Your time begins now.”
The jumbotron begins the giant countdown, and while the other couples deliberate, Owen drops his hand on my thigh and gives it a little, reassuring squeeze. “Let’s stick to the plan, Babe. We’ve come this far, and I’m not ready to go yet. Are you?”
When he tilts his head, that charming smile pops the adorable dimples in his cheeks and his dark, wavy hair—long overdue for a cut—falls over his forehead.
I can’t help but lean towards him, hoping he’ll put me out of my misery.
Because I completely agree, I’m far from done with being cooped up in close proximity with this man.
“Kiss me, Ruth. Or I’m taking the deal.”
He obliges, hand firm against my neck, pulling me closer. His movements are light and tender, with the promise of more. And more, I want. Very much.
“Wow,” I say, pecking his lips once. “You must have been really afraid I’d take that offer.”
“Terrified,” he says, kissing me again until the time runs out.
Beginning with Tink One, the Yankees, Sumer offers the deal.
They refuse and request a box. As does each group after them.
I’m thankful there was no bad blood by voting another couple off without the chance for a win, but now the idea that one of us will go home with nothing is heartbreaking to consider.
But if I went home right now, I’d have Owen. And, honestly, he’s more than enough.
I squeeze his hand as we stand together facing the boxes on the stage while Sumer makes her way for the big reveal.
The Yankees choose box number one and win fifty thousand dollars right off the bat.
They celebrate—loudly—as they immediately plan to buy an island and a yacht and…
I’m pretty sure that check isn’t going to stretch as far as they think it is.
It’s the largest cash prize we’ve seen thus far though, so the energy between the rest of us grows taut.
The Woodhouses choose box five, which holds the keys to their brand new truck.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen Clyde so happy.
Of course, they celebrate in their favorite manner.
Gloria jumps into his arms, Clyde twirls—albeit slowly—holding her rear end in his hands as he tries to lift her above his squatting knees.
Honestly, I’m impressed at the sheer acrobatic flexibility they’ve both shown.
I bet they wrestle later.
Ocean and Haven engage in some rhythmic chanting and alarming deep breathing before finally selecting their box.
I guess it pays off, because theirs contains a pass to order any groceries of their choice for the remainder of their time on Suite Hearts.
So someone’s getting her wheatgrass and gold sprinkles.
I’m mildly jealous about that one and definitely nervous as the elimination box is still in, and it’s only us and the Remillards left.
Boxes two and four wait on the stage, unopened. Sumer has done such a good job amping up the drama with her script, that I really and truly feel the weight of our next decision heavy on my heart. If we choose the wrong box, we go home. If we choose the other, we stay but eliminate Dakota and Sadie.
“What do you want to do?” Owen asks, hand rubbing light circles on my back.
“I don’t know. I don’t want Dakota and Sadie to go home.”
“It’s okay, y’all,” Sadie assures us from next door. Dakota slides his arm around her waist and hoists her close, kissing her temple. “We’re ready.”
“Tink number four has been pretty good to us, right?” I say, staring at the boxes that determine our fate. “I say four.”
“Sounds good to me.” Owen rests his hand between my shoulder blades, and says, “Box four, please.”
Sumer opens the box, we hold our breath, and the crowd of staff and contestants goes silent. “Box number four contains”—she pauses, looking inside before turning her famous smile to the camera—“requests for any three items to be brought into your Tink for the next five days.”
Tears immediately fill my eyes. We’re safe.
We’re still in this. But our friends are leaving.
Sumer opens the remaining box and formally announces Dakota and Sadie’s elimination.
They surprise us all, though, when they reenact the Woodhouse’s extreme PDA.
When they come up for air, Sadie shouts with happy tears in her eyes, “We’re pregnant! ” Surprising us all.
“Sadie’s been really sick for a few weeks,” Dakota explains, face exuberant as he gazes at his wife. “We knew we probably wouldn’t be able to stay for much longer.”
We all congratulate them in the way people do when they live on opposite roofs and can’t really do much but holler our warmest regards from yards away.
But, soon after, Evan and Blaire arrive for our counseling session, and Blaire gives Dakota and Sadie all the affection and excitement the rest of us weren’t able to properly give ourselves.
We’re staying.
I can’t believe how relieved I am to know we get more time here, and I know exactly how I want to celebrate. It doesn’t take much to pull Todd to the side while the rest of the group is in the throes of celebration, and I use our prize to make three requests.
“No… no… noooooo!” Owen yells when my red shell hits Toad at the perfect time, crashing him off of the map completely and allowing me to slide into first place. “I love how you just get a red shell exactly when you need it.”
I cackle into the air, never taking my eyes off the tiny screen. Cat Peach, my favorite character, jumps into the air, spins, and meows before landing perfectly on a stretch of the road I know I can get ahead on. “I love how you are such a terrible sport when you’re losing.”
It’s nearly midnight, and we’ve been playing Mario Kart—my first request—since our quick counseling session with Evan and Blaire ended this afternoon.
Only pausing to bake makeshift pizzas with the few ingredients we’ve been supplied that will work: bread, pasta sauce, and sandwich cheese, which has made this night somehow all the more perfect.
Like we’re at home. Like any other night on our couch—or in this case, the small bench seat in our kitchen—with my feet under Owen’s butt, eating pizza, and perfectly content, because we’re together.
He grabs my controller, playing one handed on his while attempting to wrestle mine away.
“Cheater!” I yell. I will not lose this game. Taking a risk that could mean a huge detriment to me, I slip out of the seat and do my darndest to pull my giant husband from the bench.
He barely moves.
“How are you so big?”
“Genetics.” He pays me almost no mind, continuing to play and take the lead.
“You should work out less.” I poke him in the abs and nearly bite my tongue. Please do not listen to your foolish wife. “Muscles, ewww.”
Owen pauses the game, grabs my hand, and manages to pull me into his lap at this miniature table. “Ya know what I think, wifey?”
I don’t, but I sure can feel his defined, bare pectorals pressing into my back. I think he’s going to be silly, to keep up this little game we have going on, but, instead, Owen kisses my neck, rendering me boneless.
“I think you are the most beautiful…” He presses a kiss below my ear. “Fun…” Another kiss on my shoulder. “Mario Kart loser in all the world.”
The warmth I feel at his affection, the familiarity of his arms around me, has me turning into him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
He gasps. His blue eyes grow dark and intense, and as much as I want to follow through with what’s happening between us, there’s something I need to do first.
“O,” I say, kissing one cheek, then the other. My fingers play with the hair curling at the back of his neck. It’s impossibly soft and the feel of it against my hand is exactly the fortification I need. “I want to give you a haircut. Please.”
His eyes close and his Adam’s apple bobs, slow and steadying, like he really needs to think about the best way to respond. “You’re sure?”
I nod, but then realize his eyes are still closed. “Please look at me.”
When he obeys, I let my fingers scratch ever so slightly beneath his curls. “I made three requests. Mario kart, shears, and a stool.”
I smile, my love for him more and more challenging to contain. To bottle up and hold inside, without more. Bringing my hands around to cup his jaw, then rubbing my fingers in the hair there, I whisper, “I’m ready.”