“I have no intention of leaving this bed for the rest of the day, so we have plenty of time.”
His drunken grin returned, and he leaned in. She stopped him with a raised finger against his already puckered lips. “But we were talking about my meeting with Astrid Larsson.”
He suddenly sobered and sat back against the pillows. “Right. Sorry.” He let out a big breath. “What do you hope to get from her?”
Olivia matched his sigh. “I don’t really know. Confirmation of the truth. An apology, maybe.”
He gently ran his fingers against the crown of her shoulder, making her tingle again. “Well, you deserve all of that, but remember she’s basically been committing slander by omissionfor thirty years, so don’t be surprised if it doesn’t go how you hope. Do you want me to come?”
She’d honestly considered it. Maybe not inviting him specifically, because she hadn’t been sure how this reunion was going to go, but she had thought of bringing someone for support. But the more she thought of it, the more she realized she needed to go alone. If she was going to set her parents’ legacy right, she needed to do it herself, as their actual living legacy.
“No,” she said. “But thank you for offering.”
He took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. “I’m proud of you, Olivia. That’s a really brave thing of you to do.”
His faith infused her with warmth. She curled against his chest. “Thank you. I will let you burn me some banana pancakes after, though.”
“Excuse me, my pancake skills have greatly improved.”
“Yes, I guess we learned a few things in that house, didn’t we.”
Chuck paused and then cleared his throat. “Speaking of the house. Are you, um…okay? With money, I mean?”
Olivia groaned and burrowed deeper into his chest. “Please, can we talk about literally anything else.”
He wrapped his other arm around her and kissed her head. “Yes, but I just want to make sure first.”
She freed her head, sending her hair messily flying. “Why, it’s not like you can do anything to help me out. You’re broke too.”
He gave her a knowing shrug of agreement.
They both sighed.
“At least I still have the advance from the show,” she said. “That will cover Willow Grove while I figure out what to do.”
He squeezed her. “At least I have you. Because that’s all that really matters.”
She looked up at him, and instead of saying how she wished that were true, she smiled. Because for right now, inside his warm bed up in the clouds, that was all that did matter. Only him; only her. And the fact that they’d found their way back to each other.
Chapter
16
After calling in help fromMansi because she simply could not determine what was appropriate to wear for a midmorning Monday meeting with her late father’s ex-wife, Olivia ended up in a classy dress and a pair of heeled sandals.Power red, Mansi had called it. Something modest and tasteful but also unmistakably present. Olivia nervously tugged at its sleeve after she reached out her car window to buzz at Astrid’s front gate.
It had been two weeks since that fated day at theName Your Pricehouse, and Olivia now found herself back in Pacific Palisades. But unlike the house where she and Chuck had been imprisoned, Astrid’s house did indeed have towering privacy hedges, and given its location, very likely an ocean view. When the gate swept open and she followed the rosebush-studded driveway to what was essentially a small parking lot with a fountain, she found that the house also had three stories, marble columns, and more sparkling glass windows than she could count. It screamed wealth but with the tasteful elegance of asoprano hitting the highest notes unreachable by most humans. Which, considering one of the most revered and accomplished actors in history lived inside it, felt fitting.
All that was to say, it was wildly intimidating.
Olivia took a very deep and nervous breath as she climbed out of Mansi’s car. Not only did her friend dress her, but she also let her borrow her Mercedes so that she didn’t have to pull up to a movie star’s house in a car that was in desperate need of a tune-up and still mysteriously whistled like a tea kettle.
Feeling insignificant in many ways, she made her way to the front steps. The shallow stone scallops rippled out toward her like a wave that was at once welcoming and imposing. When she planted her foot on the first step, she felt like she might slip inside it and disappear. She also felt the urge to turn around and run and momentarily wished she’d taken Chuck up on his offer to come so that he could at least hold out his arm like a guardrail and prevent her from bailing at the last second, but he was busy dealing with the aftermath of the profile having been published that morning anyway.
Olivia had basically dropped a bomb and run away. The profile went live at nine a.m., and she silenced her notifications at 9:05 a.m. in order to prepare for her meeting with Astrid. The only people who could get through to her were Chuck, Mansi, and Willow Grove in case of emergency. And so far, silence on all those important fronts.
Given that she’d already buzzed at the gate and her presence was known, the front door swung open before she could ring the doorbell. One half of the towering gateway peeled back to view of an airy entryway and a smiling face. Not Astrid Larsson, but someone of similar Nordic heritage, surely.
“Good morning, Ms. Martin,” the woman said with acheerful smile and Swedish accent. She wore her blond hair twisted into a braid and had sparkly blue eyes. Olivia guessed she was a housekeeper or caretaker of some sort, what with her plain and utilitarian outfit of blue blouse and black pants. She looked to be in her midforties. “I’m Hanna. Ms. Larsson welcomes you to her home. Please, come in.”