“I also like that she is beautiful. And a very good kisser.”
“Come on, man.”
“She’s our sister!”
Bea laughed, and Luc kissed her to prove his point—just a quick kiss, but something about the effortlessness of it knocked Bea over. After all the years of watching her brothers with their girlfriends and then their wives, all the hundreds of meaningless, easy, casual kisses, this was the first time any man had kissed Bea in front of her family.
The moment lingered in Bea’s mind as a producer escorted her to the drinks table to film a conversation with Jefferson—he’d apparently raided Bob and Sue’s meager liquor cabinet, and was mixing himself some sort of elaborate cocktail.
“Hey, there she is!” He broke into a wide smile as Bea approached. “Can I fix you a classic gin fizz?”
“I don’t understand how you found all these ingredients in my parents’ house,” Bea marveled as Jefferson handed her a frothy lemon-tinged drink in one of Sue’s antique glasses.
“Just gin, lemon, sugar, soda, and egg white,” Jefferson ticked off the ingredients.
“What’d you do with the yolk?” Bea asked, remembering the feel of eggs slipping through her fingers as Luc stood behind her.
“I tossed the yolk in a flower bed.” Jefferson grinned. “The nutrients are good for the plants.”
“Wow, so you’re a bartender and a gardener.” Bea smiled, thinking how much Bob would enjoy that particular fun fact. “If my parents find out, they’ll want you to stay forever.”
“Really? You think so?” Jefferson’s voice trailed off and he looked away from her, his eyes scanning across the yard, a faint smile on his face. Bea couldn’t tell what he was thinking—but then he turned back toward her, and he looked emotional.
“You know, it’s been really cool to be here, meet everyone,” he said. “Because all this—the house, the yard, the kids, everybody getting together and just having a good time? That’s exactly what I want, you know? And I guess—what I want to know is if you want it too.”
Bea felt a pang in her gut: Yes, she wanted to scream, I want this more than you could possibly imagine. But the idea of saying that out loud—in this place, surrounded by these men, under the judgmental stares of millions of eyes—felt terrifying. Like giving voice to this secret piece of herself would allow everyone in the world to tell her just how foolish she was for wanting something so laughably out of reach.
“Hey.” Jefferson stepped toward her, his voice low. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Bea murmured, shaking her head. “It’s just—I love my family so much, you know? It makes me really happy that you like it here.”
Jefferson reached for Bea’s hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“I really want to kiss you right now,” he murmured.
Bea looked up at him, confused. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He laughed gently. “That surprises you?”
“I guess it does, a little,” she admitted.
“Well, then that’s on me for not making my intentions more clear.”
“Your intentions?”
“Bea”—he leaned in—“I think you’re awesome.”
For a second she thought he was going to kiss her, but he laughed again instead.
“I’m sorry, I feel super weird about our first kiss being in front of your entire family and all these kids.”
“Yeah, understandably.” Bea laughed too.
“But next week?” He gazed into her eyes. “I hope?”
“That’s really what you want?”
“It is,” he asserted. “I hope you believe me.”
Bea honestly couldn’t tell whether she was lying or not when she assured him that she did.
Feeling dazed and overwhelmed, Bea wasn’t sure where to go next. She saw her parents hanging out by the food, but the idea of enduring her mother’s earnest questions about which of these men she planned to marry was more than she could bear. So she wandered toward the capture-the-flag game instead, where two of her sisters-in-law, Carol and Tina, were watching by the sidelines. But she stopped short as she approached and heard what they were discussing.
“I certainly don’t know what Asher was playing at,” Tina quipped, “leading Bea on and then pulling away.”
“She seemed so upset, poor thing,” Carol said kindly.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Tina took a big drink of wine. “She finally goes out on a limb for one of these guys and he just leaves her there alone! I would have quit the show then and there.”
You and me both, Bea thought bitterly. She took a step back—and nearly slammed right into her third sister-in-law, Julia, who looked chic as always in a black boatneck sweater, cropped jeans, and her signature red lipstick. She was carrying her baby, Alice, who was bundled in a soft blanket and sleeping like a perfect angel.
“Oh crap!” Bea exclaimed as quietly as she could so as not to wake the baby. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.”
“Moms with sleeping infants are real ninjas that way.” Julia winked. “You want to walk with me? The movement keeps her calm.”
“I’d love that,” Bea agreed, grateful to have an uncomplicated feeling for the first time all day—and equally grateful that their camera crew was filming them from ten feet away to give them at least the illusion of privacy. “How’s it going with her? Are you guys getting any sleep?”
“Believe it or not, I’m getting more than Duncan,” Julia confided. “He’s working so hard to keep the house in order so that I can focus on the baby, so protective of my time and energy.”
“Duncan?” Bea raised an eyebrow. “My brother Duncan?”
Julia laughed. “He’s come a long way since the days of railing against the anthropological farce of the American nuclear family.”
“Oh my God.” Bea rolled her eyes. “Honestly, who let him go to college?”
“No good came of it, that’s for sure.” Julia grinned. “It’s funny now, but at the beginning of our relationship, I was sure we’d never be long-term because he was so closed off and defensive, all his anti-marriage shtick.”
“Seriously?” Bea was incredulous. “It was obvious to me how crazy he was about you from day one.”
“Maybe,” Julia said with a shrug, “but he was also terrified of being vulnerable, of letting me in to the point where I could really hurt him. Anytime I tried to have a conversation with him about something real, he would make it into a joke or change the subject. It finally got so intolerable that I broke up with him.”
“What?” Bea was aghast. “How is it possible I never knew about this?”
“He came around pretty quickly,” Julia explained, “once he realized that he was only hurting himself preemptively, denying himself a relationship that could make him really happy. And I wonder … Bea, I hope you won’t get upset with me for saying this, but watching you, these past few weeks, I have to wonder if you aren’t going through something similar.”
“What do you mean?” Bea was genuinely puzzled. “If anything, the problem here is that none of these men wants me.”
“Okay, first of all, that’s definitely not true. What about Luc and Sam? And Asher, most of all?”
“I think Asher made it abundantly clear that he’s not attracted to me.” Bea sniffed.
“Yes he is.” Julia was thunderstruck. “I saw the look on his face when you were dancing. Whatever the reason he pulled away—I promise you, Bea, it isn’t that.”
“Then …” Bea looked at Julia, full of confusion. “Then why?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Julia answered. “But I think that question misses the point.”
“What do you mean?”
“On this show, you’re the one in charge. For three weeks, we’ve watched you freaking out that these men might not want you, when the entire show is structured around your decision of whether you want them. All this misery and self-effacement, I’m sorry, Bea, but it’s this version of you that Duncan a
nd I don’t even recognize. You’re so poised, and self-possessed, and completely wonderful—how is it possible that these men you don’t even know are able to unmoor you in this way?”
Bea’s throat felt suddenly tight, and she struggled to find words—some words, any words. She stared blankly across the yard, when she saw Duncan talking with Asher, seemingly deep in conversation. A screen door slammed, and Asher looked up—he caught Bea’s eye as she was staring right at him, and her stomach jolted as she quickly looked away. After a moment, she looked back, and Asher was still there, gazing at her. He lifted a hand in greeting. Bea could barely make herself nod in return.
“Bea,” Julia said gently, “what do you want? Is it really such a scary question to answer?”
Bea’s head was swimming. She’d been so sure that staying professional on this show had been the right decision—to prioritize her goals for her career, just as she’d always done before. But when she thought of all the nights lying alone, longing for Ray, when she thought of the vicious lie that had been swirling in the recesses of her brain since high school, that she was too fat and too ugly ever to have the kind of love that seemed to come so easily to her family and friends, when she thought of how badly she’d wanted Asher to kiss her in that museum, and how terrified she felt that admitting her desires could only compound her humiliation, but, on the other hand, that not admitting them could seal her fate of being alone forever … It suddenly felt like she was only fighting against herself, and there was no possible way to win.
“I think I need to—excuse me.” She backed away from Julia. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”
She told a producer she needed to use the bathroom, then took off toward the home she’d loved since childhood. After Bob and Sue got married, they’d taken on a new project every year, fixing up the shabby original house and eventually putting on multiple additions. Now, decades later, the place had a hodgepodge feel to it—a strange, cozy, mismatched maze that was always filled with family.
Bea ducked through the kitchen, warm and woodsy and packed with production staff and caterers, then slipped past the powder room and down one of the house’s crooked hallways. Two turns later, she opened a door still hung with a simple wooden sign that read Bea.
Bea’s room had been the same since childhood, lavender walls and a soft white carpet, a little twin bed and a whole wall covered in books.
Bea sat on the floor and drew her knees to her chest, breathing in the smell of the place. She closed her eyes, and she was crawling into bed at four o’clock in the morning after James kissed her, shoving her torn sundress in the wastepaper basket under her small white desk. She was here on senior prom night, reading another romance and dreaming of something more. Here again last Christmas, silently crying and missing Ray so much she thought it might kill her, wondering if there’d ever be a time in her life when she would visit her parents and need more than this one twin bed.
What would seventeen-year-old Bea think if she could see her future as a TV star with dozens of handsome suitors? And would her awestruck opinion shatter if she knew it was all a sham?
Bea buried her face in her knees and tried to breathe—just slowly, just anything—until she heard a soft knock on the door.
“Beatrice? Are you in there?”
She thought about keeping silent, but she figured the longer she stayed hidden, the more it would throw production into a tizzy, and the worse it would be when she eventually emerged.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m here.”
The door cracked open, and Bea saw Bob and Sue, their faces full of worry.
“Oh, Beatrice.” Sue flew into the room and knelt on the floor beside Bea, wrapping her arms around her daughter. “It’s been a terribly long day.”
Bea smiled through the tears she hadn’t even noticed were running down her face. “Yeah, Mom. A really long day.”
Bob stepped in quickly after Sue and shut the door behind him.
“No cameras?” Bea asked hopefully. Bob grinned.
“Nah, kiddo. We gave them the slip.”
“Darling,” Sue said delicately, “how are you feeling?”
“I’m …” Bea wanted to crack a joke to defuse the tension, to reassure her parents that she was really fine. But she couldn’t. Because she wasn’t.
“It’s a lot on your shoulders, this whole endeavor,” Bob said. “Must be a lot of pressure.”
Bea nodded—it was.
“We met a lot of nice young men today,” Sue offered.
“Yeah?” Bea tried to smile. “Who did you like, Mom?”
“I liked that Sam very much. Didn’t we like him, Bob?”
Bob nodded; they did.
“He’s so young,” Sue went on, “but then, that’ll be why he’s so optimistic, isn’t it? It was nice, talking with someone so hopeful. And that Wyatt was sweet. And so handsome! Of course, we heard from your brothers all about that Frenchman of yours. Is he the one you think you’ll marry?”
“Sue.” Bob’s voice had a warning note.
“Bob, she’s supposed to get engaged, that’s the point, it’s why she’s doing this! If I’m not allowed to ask about this now, when am I?”
“It’s okay, Mom. I know this is something you want, and I want it too. I hate that I keep letting you down.”
Sue opened her mouth to speak, but Bob jumped in first. “Now wait, wait a minute, Bea. Do you think your mother and I are upset with you for being single?”
“Not upset.” Bea’s voice cracked on the second syllable. “Just, disappointed, obviously. The guys all have their wives, and kids, and I’ve just never been able to … I don’t know. It hasn’t been in the cards for me. And I’m so proud of my career, of everything I’ve accomplished.”
“So are we!” Sue protested.
“I know, Mom. I know you are. But when I come here, and I see all of you together—I want this so much. And it just feels impossible. Like you’re all living on this island, this place where people know how to love each other, and no matter what I do, I can’t figure out how to get there.”
“What happens when you try?” Bob asked gently.
Bea shook her head, crying in earnest now. “I drown, Bop. Every single time. I drown.”
Bob nodded tightly, tears in his eyes too. Sue smoothed back Bea’s hair.
“Safer to stay where you are then, isn’t it?” she coaxed. “Even if where you are makes you miserable.”
“What do I do, Mom?” Bea pleaded, feeling incredibly young. “I don’t know what to do.”
“You know,” Sue’s voice was raspy, absent her usual affected cheer, “when your father left—not Bob, your biological father—I thought I was done. A woman alone with four kids, no savings, this run-down house. I thought, Who could possibly want me?”
“Mom.” Bea exhaled. In her entire life, Bea could count the number of times she’d heard her mother talk about her biological father on one hand.
“The night he called to say he wasn’t coming home was the worst of my life,” Sue went on. “All you kids were asleep, or I thought you were, but then I heard you crying. So I went into your room, and you were standing in your crib, and you said, ‘Up me, Mama.’ That’s what you used to say, ‘Up me.’ So I picked you up, my sweet girl, and you were crying, and so was I. And I was so afraid, Bea. I didn’t know what I was going to do. If you think you’re hopeless, well, I was so far past that point, I was completely shut down. Until I met Bob.”
“And he made you believe again?”
Bob laughed. “Hell, no. Your mother didn’t want a damn thing to do with me.”
“Wait, really?”
Sue shook her head. “Between working and raising all you kids, I was completely in survival mode, focused on whatever was in front of me—I couldn’t possibly consider adding another person into the mix! Bob saw I was running myself ragged, and he offered to help. That first time he came to the house, that was when things started to change.”
“Because of you, Bean.” Bob rub
bed Bea’s knee affectionately.
“Me?” Bea was bewildered. “How? Wasn’t I only five?”
“Four,” Bob corrected. “When I came over here, the whole place was chaos. Your brothers were running around the yard, your mother was trying to get dinner on the table, and I didn’t know how to help with any of it. Then you came running over to me, and you were about the cutest thing I’d ever seen. You had this big book of fairy tales, you remember? You never went anywhere without it.”
Bea pointed to the bottom shelf, where the tattered book in question still rested.
“That one there?”
Bob smiled. “The very one. You held it out to me, and you said, ‘Story?’ Bean, I don’t know how any man could say no to you, but I sure as hell never could. You were so trusting, you plopped right in my lap and we sat there and read for hours.”
“That was it.” Sue was choked up. “I saw you two together, and I thought, Oh. She’s going to have a father.”
“You make it sound so easy,” Bea whispered.
“No”—Sue grabbed Bea’s hand—“no, Beatrice, it’s the hardest thing in the world. To have been that hurt, to feel that afraid, and to know that the only way you can be really, fully happy is to risk going through it all again? It’s a terrifying choice to make. But if you want to let someone be that close to you, it’s the only way.”
“That’s it!” Bob lit up like he always did when someone hit on a new insight. “It’s about choice. A lot of people live their lives by default, walking through the doors in front of them because it seems expedient. That’s one way to have a family. But us? We chose each other. And that’s what you’re doing here, Bean—that’s why it feels so scary. Because it is. You’re choosing your family.”
“And what if I can’t?” Bea wiped the tears out of her eyes. “What if there’s something inside me that’s just—I don’t know, incapable?”
“Not possible.” Bob smiled, his whole face warm and crinkled. “Bean, everyone in this family knows how much love you have inside you. We’re together because of you. Your good heart was the key that unlocked our whole lives.”
“I don’t know what to do, Bop. I want to be brave, like you two, but I just—I don’t know what to do.”
One To Watch: this summer's must-read romcom to fill the Love Island-shaped hole in your life Page 17