Tomlinson’s voice transitions quickly from “sympathetic friend” back to “live TV dating show host,” and the audience erupts into overwhelming cheers—cued by the crew member at the edge of the stage, who’s starting to look like their social battery has completely run out.
“Things seem to have gone well.” I jump at Sora’s perky voice—the curtains having swallowed the sound of her footsteps behind me.
“Yup, Duncan’s going to have a hard time holding on to that girlfriend of his. He’ll have women throwing themselves at him now.”
“I think if he was able to resist Molly, he won’t have as much trouble as you think,” she says, and I nod pensively. She has a point. I glance at Molly, who is talking in hushed whispers to Duncan as the promo clip for next season plays on the screen behind them.
“Molly did a good job,” Sora remarks. “Hard to believe anyone wanted to make her out to be a villain.”
There’s a small pang in my chest at Sora’s words. I had spent so many years seeing Molly as the villain in my own story, and I lost out on having her and Morgan in my life because of it. She could have been there for the big moments—when Dad passed, through bad breakups, and when my career wasn’t going the way I wanted it to. If Molly had been around, my life might be different.
But there’s no use thinking aboutwhat that parallel universe might look like. Because it’s not the one I’m living in right now.
And that’s okay. Because today, in this moment, I have everything—and everyone—I need to feel happy.
THIRTY-ONE
Chloe’s ‘90s Hits, Now Playing:
SOME KINDA WONDERFUL — SKY
“Time to eat!”Molly’s voice calls out from the front door of the Airbnb, shoving it closed with her hip as she balances a giant pizza box in both hands. The strap of her purse, which is tucked like a football under her arm, is slowly starting to slide down her shoulder. I glance quickly from the TV to her, then back to the TV, where I’m currently destroying Morgan in Mario Kart.
For the fifth time.
Do I feel bad, that I’m schooling a nine-year-old in video games?
No. Absolutelynot.
Because this wicked little thing kicked my ass, withzerosympathy, in Super Smash Bros. not even an hour ago, and it’s time to get my revenge.
“Not fair!” Morgan screams as her character, Princess Peach, bails out on another one of the banana peels I’ve thrown behind me on the finallap.
“Guys, I said it’s time to eat. Let’s press pause on the game, okay?” Molly says sternly, her Mom Voice in full effect. It’s weird. I never thoughtshewould be the responsible one.
“Give me thirty more seconds, Moll, I gotta show your kid that she needs to respect her elders,” I grit out just as I zoom past the finish line. Morgan scoffs and tosses her controller to the side.
“Whatever,” she sneers. “I just need some practice. I’ll get you next time.”
“You better,” I say with a wink, and her face breaks into a playful smile as we both stand and head into the dining room, where Molly disappeared with the pizza.
“Looks like you two had fun while I was out,” she says, pulling out pieces from the box and dropping them onto paper plates for both of us. “I really appreciate you watching her, Chlo.”
“I think she watched me more than I watched her, to be honest.”
“How was the interview, Mom?” Morgan asks brightly, as she takes a seat at the beautiful walnut table with its brilliant blue stripe of epoxy down the middle. It’s the nicest table I’ve ever seen. Actually, this is the nicest Airbnb I’ve ever seen. The swanky condo was paid for by the show for Molly and Morgan to stay in while they’re in town for the finale and post-finale interviews. Everything is bright, white, and modern, with colorful abstract art placed throughout and gorgeous live-edge wood pieces on display in every room—much like the table I’m currently sitting at, feeling slightly guilty about using it just to eat greasy pizza off a paper plate.
“It was great,” Molly says, taking a seat next to her daughter. Sitting side-by-side, they look like twins, only twenty-one years apart. Morgan is tall like her mom, with long blond hair and bright blue eyes. I notice a few of her dad’s features, too; her mouth in particular is fuller, and her eye shape is more Colin than Molly.
If that piece of shit had ever taken Molly up on any of her offers to meet his child, he’d see himself in Morgan, for sure. But I’m relieved that, of either of them, Morgan takes after her mother the most. Not just in looks, but in personality, too. She’s spunky and whip-smart, and her heart is so big.
“Do you have to head back to the studio again today?” I ask, after demolishing my first piece of pizza and picking up a second.
“Yeah, they’re drawing up the contract as we speak. I’ll have to grab it tonight to look over with my lawyer, and then they want an answer in a few days.”
After filming ended, the world was shocked by the announcement that Tom Tomlinson would be taking a break from hosting to pursue other opportunities in showbiz. Rumor behind the scenes was that he’d pissed off one-too-many female producers with his blatant and over-the-line sexual harassment, and the network wanted him gone before it became a scandal.
It was recommended that he be replaced with a woman, ideally one who fans and viewers loved and who wasn’t afraid to tell it like it is.
