The Reunion by Kayla Olson(86)

“You’re sure you want to leave your fate on the show up to me?” I need to know he won’t regret this if I walk away—that he’s not sacrificing his own happiness for mine, as I now know we both have a history of doing.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t want to do it without you. And besides,” he says with a grin, “I probably need to clear my schedule if I want to star in any velociraptor zombie–hunting apocalypse films in the near future.”

I can’t help it, I laugh. “Not signing on for any Jonathan Cast projects, then?”

“In solidarity with Ford,” he says, “that’d be a no.”

In my pocket, my phone gives a short, sharp buzz. I glance at the time—I’ve got five minutes to get over to hair and makeup before Bryan comes to hunt me down.

We stand, lingering as long as I can afford to, fingers still entwined. He tucks my hair behind my ear, the same piece that’s always falling. “I wish I could stay,” I say, pressing my forehead to his.

“I wish you could, too.” He presses a soft, slow kiss to my lips. “I’ll find you later, okay?” he says when we break apart. “Now go kill it, Livvie.”



* * *



Sasha-Kate and I have our work cut out for us in this final scene. I don’t envy the affair-with-executive-to-win-a-leading-role fallout she’s dealing with; at least major career decisions are the only thing weighing me down while I slip into Honor’s skin, possibly for the very last time.

Possibly for the very last time.

The thought hits me so hard it feels physical. This show has given me everything, for better and for worse—and the ratio of better to worse has been undoubtedly skewed toward the better.

Which isn’t to say the worst parts haven’t been hard. The scrutiny, the stress, the pressure: for all the good that comes with fame, the hardest parts have left indelible marks on me that far outlasted my time playing Honor on the show. People have always held me up to Honor’s impossible standards and have been disappointed to find I’m only human, only unscripted Liv trying to work her way through life without knowing which lines come next. And on the flip side, when I come anywhere close to resembling Honor in my real life, I’m either a threat or a stepping stone: too successful to stay with, or someone to use. There has never been a happy medium, and I’m still discovering new, jagged facets to how my time on the show shaped me.

For better or worse, though, there’s so much of me tied up in her character—and my life would not be what it is without Honor. For all the pain that’s come with it over the years, I wouldn’t trade it.

Who will I be if I walk away?

Who will I be if I stay?

All at once, with perfect clarity, I know what I have to do.

“Liv, Sasha-Kate—ready?” Bryan calls out, looking up from his clipboard to make sure we’re in our places.

There’s no trace of anything but fire in Sasha-Kate’s eyes. Between Gretchen’s touch-ups and a few minutes to pull herself together, a casual observer would never know anything was wrong.

There’s something wild and untamed in her at the moment, a flicker of fear mixed in with her usual radiant confidence. It will work for this scene, at least—that sort of energy always sparks something raw and real in our most emotional scenes, like the one we’re about to shoot.

We get right into it, the stage set to look like Bianca’s apartment. As soon as we’re rolling, I bang on her door; I don’t have to dig too deep to summon the distress I’m supposed to show.

“Bianca?” I call. “Bee? It’s me.”

Sasha-Kate whips the door open, true concern in her eyes like the sister I never had. “What? What’s wrong?”

I pace around the apartment, finally telling her what’s been weighing me down: traveling the world as a photographer isn’t the same without Duke, and now I’m thinking of quitting to make marine documentaries with him, the way it always should have been.

“Honor. Honor.” She intercepts my pacing, putting her hands on both of my shoulders and looking me square in the eyes. “Are you listening to yourself? Look, do you want me to be real with you or do you want to just keep angsting like the world’s about to end?”

“Somehow I don’t think you’re going to let me choose ‘angsting like the world’s about to end.’?”

“Correct. Okay, are you listening? Because I’m only going to say this once.” Her features shift perfectly into a mix of compassion and fiery determination. “You have to go for it. Do not feel guilty, not for a single second, for taking this long to figure out what you want. He’ll forgive you—he loves you. Have you even met Duke?”

I laugh, a genuine one, because the line is so well-timed.

“He cares more about you than about all the monk seals in the entire ocean, okay?” she continues. “He’s not going to resent you for traveling the world for as long as you did—he’s the one who told you to go for it. Do the thing. Be brave. Quit your job!” She pauses, right on cue. “Unless there’s something else holding you back?”

I’ve had this scene memorized for weeks now, every line and all the spaces in between. This is the first time the full weight of them has hit me.

I sit in silence, curling my knees to my chest as my eyes go just the right amount of shiny. I wonder if anyone will be able to tell the difference between these tears and the fake ones I usually summon on command.