It's One of Us(80)

How many times has this happened?

Perry’s hand sits lightly on her foot. “That’s why I didn’t come back, Olivia. What was the point? You’ve always been his. And from what I know, you’ve wanted it that way. If you didn’t, you could have reached out. You could have asked me to come home.”

Olivia doesn’t like the way this is headed. She is starting to feel fuzzy again, the pills kicking in. She takes a sip of the water.

“Is there anything else out there that the media can dig up, Perry?”

“Yes, Perry. Since you’re so prescient about everything in my life, why don’t you answer that for my wife?”

Park is standing in the doorway, arms crossed, fury bleeding off him in waves. Olivia can smell the alcohol; his eyes are red as if he’s been crying. He hasn’t changed his clothes since yesterday, is rumpled and hurting. She hates him. She loves him. She is torn, especially seeing the two of them in the same room. The intimacy of the conversation she’s just had with Perry floods her with shame. Perry is not her husband. She has not shared her life with Perry. She has not loved and laughed and cried with Perry, not for a very long time.

She puts out a hand, calling Park to her, but he shoots her a quelling glance and leans more firmly against the doorframe.

“You’re drunk,” Perry says flatly. “That will solve things.”

“I’m not drunk. And if I was, who cares. I’m an adult. It’s my house. I’m not hurting anyone.”

Lindsey pushes past her brother into the room. Her hair has come down from its bun and floats in white waves around her face.

“You guys, there’s a bunch of media vans out front.”

Park points a finger at her. “That’s your fault, little sister. You talked us into your lawyer friend, who managed to hook us up with the one reporter in town who decided to dig into my life and ruin it. I think I’ll let you pay for Lucía’s services. I sure as hell am not.”

Lindsey face falls, wilting under her brother’s attack, and Olivia honestly doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Lucía says we were ambushed and is already making noises about suing Channel Four. You want her to stay on your side for now, Park. She’s going to fix this.”

“How?” he roars, banging the side of his fist against the door. “Suing them won’t fix this. We’re going to lose everything because you talked me into sitting down with a reporter.”

Lindsey is nearing her limit; Olivia recognizes her best friend is about to blow. Park always has been able to push his sister’s buttons.

“We had very clear parameters, in writing, about how this interview was going to proceed, and the reporter broke them. She’s in major trouble from all sides.”

“It’s too late. You’ve ruined everything!”

Perry is up and across the room in a heartbeat, wrestling Park into the hall.

“Stop it. Stop shouting at her. That’s not helping.”

“Oh, and you are? Here to help, brother? I bet you’re the one who talked to the reporter in the first place. Told her all those things about our childhood so she could embarrass me live, on air, ruin my reputation, ruin our lives! With me out of the way, you can sweep in and steal Olivia from me. That’s all you’ve ever wanted anyway, isn’t it, Perry? Can’t stand losing her, so you take me down—”

The diatribe is interrupted by the heavy, wet thunk of a fist connecting with flesh, and there is mayhem in the hallway. Lindsey rushes out to help, and Olivia shuts her eyes and leans back into the pillow.

She doesn’t know who hit whom, though she assumes it was Perry smashing his fist into Park’s mouth to shut him up. She doesn’t blame him; she would have too under that blistering attack. Park’s weird possessiveness of her hasn’t reared its head for so long, but it isn’t fair to blame Perry for everything. He hasn’t even been in the States, much less have had time to correspond with a reporter. She’s not happy with Lindsey and Lucía either, but taking it out on Perry is counterproductive.

A small thought wanders into the back of her mind. How did the reporter find out about these things?

Park comes back into the bedroom, fuming.

“Pack your things,” he says tightly. “We’re leaving.”

She opens one eye, then the other. Park’s face is a mottled red, and he has the beginnings of a black eye. Spot-on there, Hutton, she thinks with an internal smile.

“Park. You’ve been drinking. I’m hopped up on painkillers. We aren’t going anywhere. You want solitude, kick Lindsey and Perry out. You need to settle down.”

“I already did kick them out. The damn lawyer, too. But we need to get away, Olivia. Press are all up and down the street, and they are baying for blood. My blood.” His voice is shaking, full of rage and pain and horror. She feels even worse for her transgressive thoughts.

“Well, you certainly can’t drive, and neither can I. So lock the door, shut off the lights, and come to bed. We’ll fix things later.”

“It’s barely noon.”

“I know. But I can’t stay awake a moment longer, and you need to sleep it off.”

He stares at her for a moment, then surprises her by bursting into noisy tears. Park never has been a good drunk.