Name Your Price

Chapter 12

Barbara and Sam Walsh beamed at her like they’d shown up for Christmas dinner. Behind them stood the full camera crew, lenses lifted and pointed.

Olivia was too dumbstruck to do anything but stare. Mercifully, Chuck came jogging around the corner a few seconds later.

“What did you say?” he asked, and raked a hand through his hair, which she had thoroughly mussed.

“I said, your parents are here. Along with the camera crew.”

Chuck came to stand beside her, thankfully back in presentable order, and blinked in shock. “Mom? Dad?” he said like he couldn’t believe they were truly there.

Barb instantly stepped inside and threw her arms around her son. Petite and blond and fluttering her hands like little birds, she hugged him with her head hardly meeting his shoulder. She then reached for his face and yanked his cheek down to kiss it. “Oh, Charlie! It’s so good to see you!”

Chuck stumbled in her grip before he gently hugged her back.

His father used his cane to delicately step over the threshold into the entryway. He looked a lot like Chuck, only rounded at the edges, graying, and leaning slightly to the left. “Hiya, son,” he said, and hugged him as soon as his mother released him.

Chuck was still reeling. “Hi. What are you guys doing here—?”

The sound of his mother’s excited gasp cut him off. “Would you just look at this place, Sam?” she gushed, and spun a slow circle as she took in the entryway. “Oh! And Olivia, my darling!” She pulled Olivia into a warm, soft hug that smelled like flowers and minty chewing gum.

“Hi, Barbara,” Olivia said, just as dazed as Chuck.

“Heck of a house you got here,” Sam said with a chuckle. He clapped Chuck on the shoulder and pointed out the back doors. “Look at that! A pool and everything.”

“Oh my goodness !” Barb cooed with another gasp. “And the cameras are right here! Sammy, we’re on TV!”

“I don’t think it’s live, Barb,” Sam muttered, but waved into the lens with a grin anyway.

His parents continued to fawn and gush while Olivia and Chuck exchanged a look of complete bafflement. Barb was all but skipping around taking in the sights. Sam leaned on his cane and nodded enthusiastically at everything she pointed out. They chattered like chipmunks.

“ Parents! ” Chuck eventually bellowed over them. “Why are you here?”

Barb hardly missed a beat as she fluttered back over to him and pinched his cheek. “Oh, Charlie, don’t get excited.”

“Mom, no one calls me that here,” he said with a faint flush.

Barb clucked and swiped invisible fuzz off his shoulder. “Then what do you prefer I call you? My little gumdrop?” She squeezed his face again like she was about to eat him.

The Walsh family was very physical. Always touching each other; always smiling and kissing cheeks. It at once melted Olivia’s heart and filled her with a lonely envy.

“ Mom ,” Chuck quietly protested again.

Barb released him and flapped her hands. “Sorry, sweetie. I’m just so excited to see you. We’re here because your producer called and invited us for dinner!” She said the word with starstruck glee. “I didn’t think your dad was ready to travel, but when they said it was all paid for and they’d take care of any special accommodations, we couldn’t miss the opportunity to come!”

“That’s right,” Sam said, and thumped his cane on the floor. “First time out and about since the surgery, and so far, so good! Though I have had a healthy dose of painkillers today.” He wobbled a little with a dopey grin that popped the same dimple his son had.

Despite the buoyant charm of her ex-maybe-future-in-laws filling the room like bubbles, Olivia’s insides roiled. This was another game show trope. A veritable meet the family like a hometown visit on a dating show. Throwing Chuck’s adoring and adorable parents into the mix was sure to stir up drama one way or another. She could tell something was amiss already based on the nervous glances Chuck kept stealing at her.

Not to mention, they’d been seconds from screwing each other’s brains out in the pantry when the doorbell rang, and she could tell by the flushed fluster on Chuck’s face that neither of them had recovered yet.

“Sweetheart, will you help me with these?” Barb asked, and swanned back toward the open front door. She wore a pair of linen capris and a flowing blouse covered in a tasteful palm print that looked entirely like a Google search result for What to wear to L.A. for a middle-aged woman , and Olivia loved her all the more for it.

Chuck obediently trailed after her and stopped precisely at the door’s threshold. Barb had stepped back outside and was now lifting grocery bags into Chuck’s waiting arms.

“You went shopping?” he asked as she loaded him down.

“No. A very nice young man named Taylor—”

“Tyler,” Sam cut in.

“Tyler,” Barb corrected, “called when we landed at the airport and asked what we wanted for dinner. It caught me off guard, but then, we’d been flown first class, and had someone waiting for us with our names on a sign just like in the movies—what was his name, Sam?”

“Grayson.”

“Yes, Grayson. Also a very nice young man. Anyway, the point is, they’ve rolled out the red carpet for us, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when someone called and asked what we wanted for dinner too.” She looped a bag over each of Chuck’s arms and balanced one more in his hands. With the heft of it, Olivia wondered what kind of feast they were in for.

“Your father has been eating rather bland because the painkillers cause—well, we don’t need to get into that,” Barb went on, and lifted the final bag herself. “But this is a special occasion, so I made a special request, and Tyler—such a nice young man—had all this waiting at the gate when we got here.”

“This looks like a lot, Mom,” Chuck said, and turned back inside, careful not to smash into anything with his new load.

“Well, we only see you a few times a year, Charlie, so we’re going to take advantage. Oh! And they also told us to give you this and asked that we tell you not to read it in front of us.” She held up a finger at each word like she was reciting specific instructions and fished a familiar envelope out of the bag she held to hand to Chuck. “Where’s the kitchen?” she asked, as if a mysterious sealed envelope wasn’t an odd thing to hand over.

“It’s this way, Barb. I see it through the doorway,” Sam said, and pointed with his cane.

They walked off with the camera crew in tow, still chattering, and Chuck and Olivia knowingly looked at each other.

Chuck let out a sigh and handed the envelope to Olivia to open, since his arms were still loaded down with grocery bags.

She took it and slipped her finger under the seal. One of the cameras had followed Chuck’s parents while the other stayed with them. She cleared her throat and read.

“?‘Olivia and Chuck, we hope you enjoy your surprise Sunday visit. There is nothing as special as family time. Barbara and Sam Walsh know nothing about the premise of this show aside from the fact that you are living in this house together on camera. We have confirmed that they are in the dark about other information as well. By the time they leave this house tonight, you must have told them the truth about either the end of your relationship or that Chuck was fired from Safe Gamble , or you will be docked fifty thousand dollars each. The choice is yours. Enjoy dinner!’?”

Olivia finished reading with bitter disbelief stinging her tongue and looked up to see Chuck having gone ghostly pale. This was less a meet the family trope and more some warped version of Two Truths and a Lie. She glanced down at the letter as if the words would rearrange into something less downright cruel and looked back up at him, at a loss.

“This is really messed up. I’m sorry, Chuck. How do they even know you haven’t told your parents these things?”

He was still blinking in shock. His mouth popped open, and his voice softly spilled out. “Because I said as much. On tape.”

“You did?”

He nodded. “Remember that day we were arguing in the bedroom, and I called you a nepo baby?”

“Of course. How could I forget?” Her words came out bitterly, but she couldn’t blame him for the unpleasant callback given he was in such shock.

“Well, I also confessed that my parents didn’t know I’d gotten fired or that we’d broken up, remember?”

She thought back to that day, and the memory slid into place. He had in fact confessed on tape. “Shit,” she said, and took a breath. “So, what do we do?”

“Charlie! Can you bring in those groceries, please?” Barb called, startling them both. “I need to get started on the peach cobbler so that it has time to bake and cool for dessert!”

Chuck blinked a few times as if he was trying to gather himself. Olivia could tell he was flailing.

She held out a hand to calm him without touching him. “Okay, let’s take the easy one. We’ll tell them we broke up.”

He flinched. “I promise you, that is not the easy one, Liv.”

A flush curled into her face at the angst with which he said it. Clearly, their relationship meant something to his parents, so much so that he was possibly willing to give up fifty grand to lie about it being over.

“Okay, then we’ll tell them you got fired.”

He shook his head. “That’s not easy either.”

She bit her lip, not wanting to voice the next option because of the loss to herself but also for the position the whole situation was putting him in. “Take the hit, then?”

Chuck shook his head once more. “I’m not losing you that much money.”

Olivia let out a discreet breath of relief and then flopped her hands at her sides. “Well, we have to pick one of them.”

“ Charlie! ” his mom lovingly sang from the other room, and they both tensed again.

A few strained beats of silence passed between them.

“Chuck, we have to pick one,” Olivia repeated.

His eyes traced zigzags on the floor like he was trying to find a map back to safer territory. He shook his head once. “We will. Just…follow my lead for now.” He started off toward the kitchen.

“What?” Olivia said, and hurried after him. “What are we going to do?”

“Improvise.”

“Chuck! I can’t improvise! You know I’m not a good actor!”

“Well, I’m a good director, so keep up.”

She grumbled and silently stomped after him. She tried for a welcoming smile when they rounded the corner, but it landed somewhere closer to a nervous grimace.

Barb was already at home in the kitchen, fluttering around and placing groceries in the fridge. She’d pulled pots and pans from cabinets and had Sam set up on a stool with a glass of sparkling water. She was a little homemaking tornado. “Charlie, sweetheart, bring those groceries over here, would you?” she sweetly asked.

“Sure, Mom. But you don’t have to cook for us.”

“Oh, nonsense. I love cooking for my family.” She flapped her hands and dumped a handful of whole peaches into a colander. “Where can I find a paring knife?”

Sharing a love for the kitchen and unable to resist Chuck’s mom’s infectious spirit, Olivia found the knife for her and grabbed a bowl. “At least let us help,” she said, and pulled the peaches over to begin slicing.

Barb sweetly smiled at her. “If you insist. But let Charlie do that; it’s easy. You help me with the chicken.”

Chuck scoffed. “Relegated to the simple tasks, I see,” he said sourly, but smiled.

“Pull up a stool, son,” Sam said, and patted the one next to him. They fell into conversation while Olivia and Barb unpacked the rest of the groceries.

“For dinner, we’re doing roasted chicken with fingerling potatoes and vegetables and a kale salad—I know you love your kale out here in California.” She leaned in and warmly bumped her elbow against Olivia’s with a wink. “I want to get dessert in the oven first so that it’s an edible temperature by the time we finish dinner.” She pulled a tub of vanilla ice cream out of a bag and put it in the freezer. “Charlie, I do hope you’ll indulge in a little treat; I know you keep so strict to your diet.”

Chuck paused his conversation with his dad to sweetly gaze up at her. “I’ll eat anything you make, Mom.”

Olivia’s heart swelled at the love in his voice. She suddenly hated the producers for putting them in the situation they had. With Barb and Sam looking at Chuck like their absolute pride and joy and one of their favorite people in the whole world, she ached for that connection she’d never felt and thought that fifty thousand dollars was well worth not doing anything to hurt them.

“Good,” Barb said with a smile. “Don’t slice them too thick.” She nodded at Chuck’s hands slicked with peach juice where he was peeling and slicing yellow wedges into a bowl.

Olivia met his eyes before he went back to talking to his dad, and he gave no indication of which truth they were going to tell, so she kept helping his mom.

“Olivia, how is your grandmother?” Barb asked, and cracked an egg into a bowl. Olivia noticed that as she talked and moved around the kitchen, she was just as skilled as Chuck at ignoring the cameras. Sam’s eyes kept drifting toward the lenses, and Chuck would gently nudge him to refocus.

“She’s doing well,” Olivia told Barb. “Her birthday was last week, and we had a little party.”

“Oh, how nice. Excuse me. I need to grab some sugar.” She rinsed her hands at the sink and glided off toward the pantry. She was halfway there when a horrifying realization struck Olivia like she’d stuck a fork in a light socket.

“Oh, wait—!” she said, and hurried after her. But she was too late. She bumped into Barb at the door with a pouch of sugar in one hand and a bundle of lacy blue fabric in the other.

“Olivia, sweetheart, I think you may have misplaced something personal in here,” she said quietly, and pressed Olivia’s wadded-up underwear into her palm.

Olivia wanted to die. Melt through the floor. Hide in a box of pasta. Bury herself under bags of beans. Luckily, they were still halfway in the pantry and off camera.

“Oh, thank you, Barb. I must have dropped them when I was, um, doing laundry.” The lie burned her face. The laundry room was clear on the other side of the house and nowhere near the pantry. The only reason her panties would have been in the pantry was because Barb’s very own son had peeled them off her trembling legs not twenty minutes before and she’d been too distracted by their sudden arrival to put them back on.

Barb gave her a sweet, innocent smile and swept back around her to continue making dessert.

Olivia almost opted to lock herself in the pantry for the rest of eternity. She couldn’t bear the thought of turning around to face anyone. Her face was positively aflame.

She wadded her underwear in her fist and attempted a mad dash across the kitchen. Chuck had risen to wash his peachy hands at the sink and turned to stop her.

“Where are you going?” he asked with a curious tilt of his head.

Olivia glanced at the cameras, which had focused on Barb and Sam’s conversation on the other side of the island. She leaned in close and hissed through her teeth. “To drown myself in the pool because your mother just found my underwear in the pantry where we were having sex right before they got here!”

Chuck’s eyes popped wide. He flushed and looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Shut up,” she said with a mortified glare, and stepped around him. She hurried off to the bedroom, thankfully with no camera crew in tow, and headed to the closet for a fresh pair of underwear. Once she had it on, she stole into the bathroom to fix her hair and apply a little bit of makeup since before the surprise arrival, Chuck had tousled her hair into tangles, and before that, she’d been asleep.

What a whirlwind thirty minutes it had been.

When she returned to the kitchen, she caught Barb midsentence.

“—two of you should come visit this summer. I know you’re busy with work, but we’d love to see you both at home.”

Olivia stopped short, suddenly breathless and poised on the edge of both lies in the same sentence. She glanced at Chuck, who was now destemming kale, but he didn’t give her any clue which way to turn. In fact, he completely pivoted.

“How’s Chelsea doing at art camp?”

And then Barb was happily off in another direction. “Oh, she’s doing great. She has a real knack for teaching, you know.”

“Gets that from her mother,” Sam said with a doting grin as he lifted his sparkling water in a toast.

“Olivia, sweetheart, can you please find me a roasting pan?” Barb asked, elbow deep in the sink with an entire raw chicken in her hands.

“Sure,” she said as she went to search cabinets. As she passed Chuck at the island, she snared his gaze, silently asking him in which direction she was supposed to follow his lead, but he only shook his head. She quietly huffed in frustration. An unpleasant prickling of nerves had begun to sting her stomach. She passed the oven and smelled the peach cobbler already baking inside. Barb had commandeered the kitchen and begun conducting her own culinary orchestra in no time flat.

She found the pan deep in a low cabinet, and when she stood back up, she saw a bottle of wine sitting on the counter. “Here you go, Barb,” she said, and set the pan on the island. “Chuck, will you help me open this, please?” she asked, and held up the bottle.

He looked up at her and knew from the stern tilt of her head that she wanted more than just his help. “Sure,” he said like he was in trouble. He wiped his hands on a towel and circled the island to the corner where she stood.

Barb had started talking to Sam again, and Olivia noticed one of the cameras zoom in on her and Chuck. She fished a corkscrew out of a drawer and shoved it at Chuck.

He flinched when he took it along with the bottle.

She leaned in and hissed, “I don’t like this.”

“You think I do?” he whispered back, and hooked the corkscrew into the cork. The corded muscles in his forearm flexed as he began to twist.

“Obviously not, but you need to pick one ! This is making me so nervous. I feel like we’re walking in a minefield.”

He worked the cork out with a rubbery pop and reached for a glass. “I know. I’m sorry. Here. You just need to drink one point five glasses of this, and you’ll relax.”

“Do not be cute right now.”

“I’m not being cute! I’m trying to help.”

The buttery chardonnay glugged into the glass, and he handed it to her. Olivia took a sip and admittedly felt her frayed nerves start to dull already.

“What are you two whispering about over there?” Barb sang.

Olivia bulged her eyes out at Chuck and mouthed pick one .

He glared back at her and then smiled. “Nothing, Mom. Who wants a glass of wine?”

“Oh drats. I meant to put that in the fridge to chill,” Barb said. “But I guess a little warm white never hurt anybody. I’ll take one.”

Chuck retrieved two more glasses and artfully held them with stems poking between his fingers and bowls in his palm as he poured. The sight reminded Olivia that he’d waited tables when he’d first moved to L.A., like many a hopeful young actor.

“None for me, son,” Sam said, and sipped his sparkling water again. “Rumor has it booze and pills don’t mix.”

“I believe those are well-founded rumors, Dad,” Chuck said. “Here you go, Mom.”

Barb took it with an outstretched arm and lifted it toward the ceiling. “Thank you, sweetheart. A toast! To the happy life the two of you are building together.”

“Hear, hear!” Sam cheered.

Olivia sputtered into her wine, which she’d been in the middle of sipping already.

Chuck patted her on the back and clinked his glass to Barb’s. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Cheers,” Olivia managed to mutter as she wiped a dribble from her lips. She took another gulp for good measure.

Barb had wrangled the chicken into the pan and set about rubbing it with butter and sprinkling herbs on it.

Chuck returned to his kale station and softly cleared his throat. “So, um, what exactly do you know about the show?” His voice rose awkwardly high, and he nodded at the nearest camera. Olivia relaxed a fraction more, seeing that he was finally leading them in some direction, though she wasn’t sure which.

“They told us it’s a reality show about your life living together,” Sam said. “I’ll tell you, your mother almost did a backflip when she heard that the two of you had moved in together. She was thrilled .” Sam leaned back on his stool with a chuckle and squeezed Chuck’s shoulder.

“Well, I won’t say I’ve been waiting for you two to take the next step, but I am rightly overjoyed to see you moving in that direction. It’s interesting that you would choose to do it on TV, but what do I know about Hollywood!” Barb said with a boisterous laugh.

Barb Walsh’s drink threshold for oversharing was apparently two sips of warm white wine.

Olivia’s face burned hotter than the sun. She gulped at her wine until she almost needed a refill. Chuck had turned a shade of crimson.

“What direction?” he asked.

Barb tilted her head and gave him an adoring look that screamed Oh my sweet, silly child. “I think you know, sweetie.”

Olivia suddenly understood, with an overwhelming sense of conflicting emotion, what he’d meant when he said confessing to their breakup was not the easy option. Barb was practically ringing wedding bells with her butter-coated hands.

Olivia twitched with a nervous urge to flee. To protect herself from falling in love with this family any further only to lose them because they weren’t even hers to keep. But at the same time, she couldn’t resist their pull. Barb’s adoring gaze, Sam’s lippy smile. The way both of them were looking at Chuck like they were thrilled for him to have found a partner, and for that partner to be her.

For a moment, she saw it too. Her and Chuck, a few years down the road. A house—no cameras. Maybe a dog to start. A couple of kids after that. Both of their careers taking off. Him becoming an A-lister while she wrote biographies that were hailed in the New York Times Book Review and adapted into screenplays. Maybe Chuck would even star in one as a truly full-circle moment. They’d spend white Christmases in Ohio and vacation on tropical islands. They would celebrate Grandma Ruby’s birthday with her for years to come.

A small smile curved her lips. She looked up to see Chuck looking at her like he might have been painting the same picture in his mind.

The oven timer dinged and snapped them out of their reverie.

“Olivia, could you get that, please?” Barb asked. “It’s the cobbler.”

“Of course,” she said thickly. Her voice had grown rough with emotion. Chuck noticed and got up to join her.

“Are you all right?” he whispered as she bent over to take the bubbling cobbler out of the oven. Heavenly wafts of cinnamon and peaches billowed out and filled the kitchen.

“Yes. This is just…a lot.” She sniffled and used her oven mitts to set it on the stovetop.

“I know. And I’m sorry. My parents adore you, obviously. That’s why I said this wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I know. I get it now. I think I just need a minute.” She used her arm to wipe her sniffling nose and pulled the oven mitts off. When she tried to step around him to leave, he moved in front of her.

“No, Liv. Don’t run. Please. I’m right here. We’ll figure this out.”

Every nerve in her body was primed to flee from all the feelings, but Chuck, knowing exactly how she’d react to something so overwhelming, had firmly planted himself in front of her like he intended to make her stay and feel them.

“Please,” he said again.

Through a deep breath that she was sincerely trying to use to turn off her fight-or-flight response, she realized that he wasn’t forcing her to feel anything negative. What he was trying to get her to stay for, to get her to feel in her heart and mind and every inch of her body the same way he felt it, was positive emotion in its purest form.

Love.

His parents’ love. His love. Simply…love.

She took a shuddering breath and looked up at him. His eyes had melted into hazel pools. His mouth was soft. He looked like he wanted to give her another ten-thousand-dollar kiss, or maybe just wrap her in a hug.

“Okay,” she quietly said.

“Okay,” he said with a soft smile, then squeezed her hand where no one could see.

Her skin tingled where he’d touched her and gave her enough of a boost to return to the island and help Barb trim green beans.

“Olivia, honey, tell us about work,” Barb said. “Have you interviewed anyone exciting lately?”

She let Barb’s genuine interest settle over her like a warm blanket and found that she liked the way it felt. She also liked the way everyone eagerly listened as she talked about her job. They continued talking while the food cooked and they set the dining table. Olivia was so caught up in it—plus she’d had two glasses of wine—that she almost forgot they had to break an unpleasant truth one way or another before the night was over. She didn’t know how long the Walshes planned to stay, but at least TJ’s iPad clock wasn’t glaring angry red numbers at them and aggressively counting down the available minutes left. Based on the ease of their conversation, she wondered if Chuck planned to wait to the last second and blurt out whichever truth he chose as they shoved his parents out the door on their way.

When they eventually settled at the dining table—their first use of it since moving in—with their perfectly prepared meal laid out before them, conversation turned to Sam’s recent medical journey.

No one could tell a story like Sam Walsh. They learned every detail about his surgery, his recovery, his physical therapy regimen, all the books he’d read while resting—plot summaries included. Chuck shone like the sun while listening to him talk, but Olivia could tell the indecision over which truth to spill was tearing him up inside. She saw it in his fidgeting, the tight lines around his smile, the large gulps of wine he was taking. And she couldn’t blame him. There’d been no clear entry point into either topic. And the deeper they got into basking in the warm glow of one another’s presence, the more Olivia felt like they were lying by omission.

As much as the truth was tearing Chuck up, it was boiling up inside her. Chuck might have been able to do it, but she couldn’t lie to Sam and Barb Walsh. The best parents on the planet didn’t deserve to be hurt, of course not, but letting them believe that their son was thriving and playing house with her as they snowballed toward a happily-ever-after left her feeling like a villain. A hoax when they deserved honesty and respect and someone worthy of their affection and not someone who’d sit there in charade as they wove plans for the future with her included as an important thread.

“One day, I was working on stair climbing,” Sam said as he continued detailing the past several weeks. “My doctor recommended it as part of the recovery.”

“Up with the bad, down with the good!” Barb tipsily recited and lifted her wineglass.

“Other way around, Barb,” Sam said. “The saying goes ‘Up with the good , down with the bad .’ You’re supposed to lead with your stronger leg on the way up the stairs to strengthen it, and your weaker leg on the way down.”

“Are you sure?” Barb said with a scrunch of her face.

“Yes, darling. Up, good; down, bad. I wrote it down.”

“Are you sure you didn’t write it up ?” Barb said with a giggle.

Sam gave her an adoring look that pulled the truth to the tip of Olivia’s tongue. “Anyway, that day on the stairs, I was—”

“Chuck and I broke up!” she blurted, unable to take it any longer. The wine might have had something to do with it.

A stunned silence fell like a thick fog over the table, smothering all other sound. Barb’s fork was halfway to her mouth. A green bean tumbled from it and landed on her plate. Olivia’s heart pounded in her ears, and she felt Chuck’s eyes boring into her. But she couldn’t unring the bell.

Chuck’s gaze slowly slid from her face and aimed down at his plate.

“Charlie, is that true?” Barb asked in a thick, concerned voice.

It took a while for Chuck to meet her eyes, and when he did, his voice came out strained and full of pain. “Yes.” He glanced over at Olivia, and she subtly nodded in encouragement to continue. “We broke up a week ago, and that day, we had an argument outside my apartment building, and it ended up online— don’t google it. Please. But it went viral, and the producers of this show saw it. Before we knew it, they were making us an offer to come on the show and try to win a million dollars by living here together for a month.”

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, and Barb’s mouth fell open.

Chuck looked at Olivia again. “Liv needs money to help pay for her grandmother’s care, and I—” He cut off and swallowed hard, dodging the other truth. “I could use the cash, so we said yes. We’ve been here for five days so far.”

His parents continued gaping at them as if he’d confessed that they were eloping and going to live on Mars.

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Barb eventually managed to ask.

Chuck guiltily shrugged. “I didn’t want to stress you guys out while Dad was recovering. The timing was bad for sharing the news.”

“Oh, honey,” Barb said, and reached across the table for his hand.

Olivia’s heart ached. She suddenly felt even more like the villain. “I’m sorry I brought it up so bluntly,” she said. She glanced at Chuck. “But we thought you should know.”

Silence settled back over them with an uncomfortable weight. Sam eventually cleared his throat.

“So, this—” He waved his hand at the cameras and spacious dining room. “All this is just…a game?”

“Yes,” Chuck answered. “It’s only temporary. We don’t really live here. If we can make it a month here together without leaving the house, we win.”

Barb still looked stunned. She lifted her napkin and dabbed her lips. “And then what?”

“What do you mean?” Chuck asked.

She nodded between them. “And then what happens to the two of you?” The hope in her voice speared Olivia in the heart.

The answer to the question had grown admittedly muddled what with the past few days pushing them closer together. But they still had three and a half weeks to go. Not to mention, the whole reason they were in the house at all was that they’d broken up for good.

“Oh, um…” Chuck said, and tapped his fingers on the table. “That’s complicated.”

“I don’t see what’s complicated about it. You two are obviously perfect for each other,” Barb said.

Olivia felt her face warm and was glad when Chuck was the one to speak because her voice had disappeared inside her throat.

“Because that’s what I wanted you to think, Mom.” He turned to look at Olivia. “Liv and I…Well, we have our share of problems. Let’s put it that way.”

“Well, what couple doesn’t?” Barb said with a flip of her wrist like the issue was trivial. “Your father and I—”

“Mom, we’re not you and Dad, okay? No one is you and Dad,” Chuck snapped. He took a tense breath and calmed himself. “Sorry. What I’m trying to tell you is that I haven’t been honest about our relationship for a long time. I haven’t been honest about…a lot of things.”

The look of hurt on the Walshes’ faces was too much to take. At the same time, Olivia felt like she was intruding on an intimate family moment. The combination triggered her urge to run like she was being chased.

She stood from her chair and placed her napkin on the table. “I’m going to give you all a chance to talk. Please excuse me. Barb, Sam, it was really great to see you. Thank you for dinner. I hope you have a safe trip home.”

“Liv, wait—” Chuck tried as she headed from the room.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a shake of her head, shame heating her face and tears threatening to fall. If she stayed one second longer, Barb might leap out of her chair and give her a hug she didn’t deserve. “Good night.”

···

An hour later, Chuck found her in the backyard bundled in a hoodie and sitting on a lounge chair surrounded by flickering citronella torches.

“Are we voting someone off the island tonight?” he joked, and sat on the lounge chair beside her. He wore his own hoodie and sweatpants. He held out a bowl with a spoon sticking out from it. “Mom’s famous peach cobbler if you’re up for it.”

Olivia could smell the sweet, fruity dessert tinged with cinnamon and vanilla. There was no way she was turning it down, even if she felt like she didn’t deserve it. She untucked her knees from her chest and sat cross-legged to accept it. “Thank you.” The first bite melted over her tongue in the perfect blend of doughy crust and sweet, gooey fruit. “This is delicious.”

“I know. I had two bowls already.”

She scooped another bite. “Are they gone?”

“Yes.”

“Are they mad?”

“At you? No. At me? A little. I told them the truth about getting fired too. They were more upset that I’d kept it from them than that it had happened.” He sighed a heavy breath into the dark. With the house lights dim, it was only the glowing pool and the torches lighting the yard. The camera crew was long gone.

“I’m sorry, Chuck.”

He shrugged with another sigh. “I mean, they were going to find out eventually when the movie comes out and I’m not in it.”

She spooned another bite of dessert. “I’m sorry I left dinner. I’m trying to be better about running away, but it’s overwhelming how much they love you sometimes. And I—” Her voice cracked with a watery sob that she couldn’t control. She dashed tears from her eyes. “Sorry.”

He turned to her with his face painted in sympathy. “Olivia, you don’t have to apologize. My parents love you. They think you’re a saint for going on a TV show to win money to pay for your grandmother’s care, and they already thought highly of you before that. You didn’t do anything wrong by telling them.” He paused and swept a hand through his hair. His voice came back quieter. “And the only reason I didn’t tell them sooner was because I didn’t want them to know I let you get away.”

The gravity of his words settled over her with a profound weight, and she sobbed again. While the reason for his omission was meaningful in complicated ways that she’d have to think about later, it wasn’t the reason she was crying. “No, it’s not that.” She wiped her eyes once more and took a shuddering breath.

“Then what is it?”

She looked at him in the dark, his face carved into beautiful shadows, and confessed something she’d only just admitted to herself. “You know how you said you’re envious of my parents? Well, their legacy? I think I’m envious of your parents. Of what you have with them. Because I never—” Her voice cracked with another hard sob. Her shoulders shook. She set her bowl down and wiped her eyes with both sleeves of her hoodie. “Sorry.”

“Come here.”

She heard his voice, low and firm, on the other side of the thick mask of her sleeves. At the same time, it ached with longing. She dropped her hands to see him sitting with his arms open, welcoming her. More than anything, she wanted to fold herself into them. To sink into his embrace and hold her face against his warm, steady heartbeat. She swiped at a stray tear and sniffled. “We can’t, Chuck. It’s going to lose us money.”

“I don’t care,” he said with a resolute shake of his head. “I’ll pay you back whatever it is. Come here.”

Needing his touch like a balm for her aching heart, she climbed off her chair and onto his. She settled between his legs and curled into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her like a cage and kissed her head. At the warm tenderness of his touch, the feel of his heart beating so close, her tears returned.

He held her while she cried, softly stroking her hair and gently rocking. When her tears finally stopped flowing and turned into intermittent hiccups, she mumbled into his chest.

“You’re so lucky. That they love you that much. Even when they are mad at you, they’re still there for you.”

He kissed her head again. “I know I am lucky. And I’m sure your parents loved you just the same.”

Another shuddering sob punched out of her. “You know, you might be right. I talked to my grandma earlier, and she brought up the tabloid article and told me things I never knew. I always thought I was the product of a toxic affair, but apparently, they were madly in love.”

“Really?” he asked in surprise.

“Yeah. And get this. They—” She stopped when she remembered they were close enough to the house to be on camera.

“They what?” Chuck asked.

She hesitated, wanting to tell him more but not wanting anyone to hear. She considered dragging him back to the pantry for privacy, but that would only lead to things they might regret. Getting interrupted earlier had been for the best.

“I’ll tell you some other time,” she said, and nodded at the nearest camera mounted on the patio ceiling.

Chuck nodded like he understood.

“But it did change things,” she said, wanting to share at least some of her feelings.

“Oh yeah? What did it change?”

She tilted her head to look up at him. His jaw cut a dramatic silhouette against the night sky. Flickering flames danced across his face. “The truth. I know it now, and I think…I think I might be ready to talk about it.”

He reeled back as far as he could go against the chair. His eyes popped and a small smile curved his lips. “Well, now I’m really intrigued.”

Olivia quietly laughed and curled back into him. “Like I said: some other time.”

He tightened his arms with a contented sigh. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

She settled against him and listened to his heartbeat. Steady. Strong. He was so warm and sturdy, she wanted to melt straight into him. “Can I stay here all night?” she half joked.

“You can stay here as long as you want.”

She considered it. Being tangled up intimately with Chuck was one thing, but simply being near him like this, held in his arms, was another. The night had cooled; the stars had shyly popped out from the gauzy black sky. The moon lounged in a thick crescent. She could have easily fallen asleep, or perhaps simply stayed up all night enjoying his embrace.

“We better go inside,” she eventually said. “If they charge us by the minute for touching, we just lost about fifteen grand.”

He squeezed her like he didn’t want to ever let go. “I don’t think cuddling will count as being as intimate as kissing.”

“You’re right.” She sat up and softly smiled at him. “Possibly more.”

He let her climb off the chair and then followed her to the house. Inside, he let her have the bed, and when she woke in the morning, she found a piece of paper folded into a little tent on her nightstand with Burn after reading written on the front.

She opened it with a curious smile and found it scrawled with Chuck’s hasty handwriting.

Liv,

They can’t hear me if I say this on paper. I’m sorry about the pantry. Well, not entirely because it was the best three minutes since we’ve been here, but I am sorry if it loses us any money. The truth is, I don’t know how I’m going to survive the rest of the month without touching you. And it’s not just touching you. Being close to you; talking to you— really talking to you. I think being here is what we needed, but it’s also creating a problem because I want more than I can have. I’m writing this as I watch you sleep right now like some creepy teenage vampire because it’s either this or I climb into bed with you and lose everything. And you know what? I wouldn’t even care. You’re worth every penny. But I’m not going to do that to you. I will behave, I promise. Just know that if I turn into a cranky recluse for the rest of the month, it’s only for the greater good, which, I guess that goes along with the brooding vampire motif.

Yours, Edward Cullen

P.S. You just mumbled something about “dry goods” in your sleep, and holy shit, if you’re dreaming about the pantry right now, writing this letter about self-control will have been moot. I must leave. Sleep well, my gorgeous human.

Olivia laughed to herself and pressed the letter to her chest. She sat up to see that she was alone, but the armchair in the corner had been positioned to face the bed.

“Creep,” she muttered with a smile, but didn’t mean it in the slightest.

Another sunny day glittered outside the back door. The house was still quiet, but it was nearing eight a.m., which meant the production crew would show up any minute, surely excited to dole out punishment for last night and inform them of whatever curve ball they were going to throw at them next.

Olivia glanced down at Chuck’s letter again, and instead of burning it, she decided to fold it up and stash it under her pillow. He was right: being in the house together was changing things between them, and she couldn’t deny that the change felt good.

“Twenty-four more days.”