Love & Other Disasters(71)

She didn’t answer. But she gave their body another soft squeeze.

London was sad that Dahlia’s breath was already growing heavier, stretched out, by the time they got to the Keanu Reeves dinner scene. Dahlia would love this. But they were pretty sure she was already asleep.

Then they heard her mumble something into their side.

“What?”

“I’m going to disappoint you,” she said. Her eyes were closed.

“What?” London asked again.

“I disappoint everyone.”

“Dahlia,” London whispered, nudging her shoulder.

What did that mean, she disappointed everyone?

But she was already asleep.

London frowned, running their fingers through her hair a moment more.

Carefully, so as not to wake her, they reached for the side table, fingers fumbling for the remote. But before they could turn off the movie and follow Dahlia into slumber, before they could further analyze what Dahlia had just said, their phone buzzed.

London, srsly, was our dad always an asshole? And we just didn’t know?? Because he was our dad?? I can’t stop thinking about this

London blinked.

Before they could think of what to say in response to this, Julie kept typing.

But our mom is so baller

And she wouldn’t be married to such an asshole, right?

But sometimes people in relationships do weird things

Ugh

London finally found the remote and shut off the damn TV. They stared at their phone, the only sound in the room now the loud thud of their heart.

They had been waiting for these texts, at least subconsciously. For weeks, Julie had sounded off, dodging relatively normal questions from London like, Hey Jules, how was Sunday supper? And Julie wasn’t one to dodge, wasn’t the kind of person to give vague, one-word answers. Julie Parker usually told a person everything that was on her mind, whether they wanted to know or not.

Yet suddenly, everything back in Nashville, according to her, was fine. Fine fine fine. London was starting to hate the word.

But now that Julie was finally sounding like herself again, London felt queasy.

Julie, they typed, gathering their courage, What’s going on? What did Dad do?

And then, of course, she was silent.

They extricated themself from Dahlia, rolling her gently toward the other side of the bed. She went willingly, making a little humming sound.

London turned onto their side, took a few deep breaths.

Julie? They tried again.

Ugh, sorry London

Ben gave me tequila; he will be punished tomorrow

Ignore me

Everything is fine here

Love you

London stared at the phone for long, useless minutes, wishing their twin’s ruthless honesty would magically reappear, even though they knew it wouldn’t.

Because the other thing London knew to be true about Julie was that she’d do anything in her power to protect those she loved.

Sighing, London threw the phone onto the side table, rolling back over toward Dahlia, pulling her close. They wrapped an arm around her stomach, finding her hands, twining their fingers together. More indistinct murmurs rumbled from her chest as she wiggled her butt into them, and they couldn’t help but smile into her hair.

London knew, deep down, that they didn’t need Julie to put two and two together for them. They didn’t like that she was hiding the details, but London could guess well enough. That having your child parading around in an identity you didn’t agree with, on national TV, no less, probably wasn’t an easy thing for a proud man like Tom Parker to swallow.

They just didn’t know what to do about it. What it would feel like, when they went back home, when they had to face their family and everyone they knew again. They’d outed themself to millions of strangers. They knew there would be fallout.

It was just so easy to ignore reality when they were on set. When they were here, next to Dahlia. London tucked their face into the warmth of her neck and closed their eyes, trying to calm their pulse.

Maybe Dahlia and London had more in common than just cooking. They still didn’t know exactly what Dahlia had meant, before she’d fallen asleep. But maybe London knew a thing or two about being a disappointment.





CHAPTER EIGHTEEN


Dahlia squeezed London’s hand on the way back to the hotel from the set Monday night. They grinned at her. She grinned dumbly back.

The past weekend had been . . . incredible. Dahlia had decided to shove any lingering doubts about Chef’s Special out of her mind, and for this one, magical weekend, just be. No hashtags, no anxiety about eliminations. No cameras. She let herself have it all with London, one memory at a time.

Everything had felt carefree and fun, exploring LA together, filling their stomachs with tacos and bubble tea and laughter and wine.

And today the magic had continued, even with the returned pressure of being back on set. They had worked together on a special group challenge, along with the other remaining contestants, cooking a meal for the Chef’s Special crew. It felt so right, cooking side by side. Dahlia loved watching London work. Their plating skills were impeccable, so precise and beautiful.

They were an artist. All the best chefs were.

For her part, she had helped make several rounds of the most delicious pork tenderloin. It had been a rush, working on so many plates at once, and the crew had raved. It was so satisfying, cooking for someone other than the judges. It filled her belly with pride, cooking good food for good people.