Page 32 of The Fake Family Deal

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I’d love to.”

“She was like this last night too, when we got home. She just wouldn’t settle.”

And she’s proving my point beautifully still, kicking against me like my arms are the worst place she could possibly be. She must be tired. God knowsI’mtired, but I’m a grown-up. I know how to deal with it.

“Have you slept at all this week?” he asks, his mouth a thin, concerned line.

I try to ignore my thumping heart. “Not much — but a little more than usual. But that’s just life with a kid.”

“Go sit down,” he commands. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Really?” I ask, my brain stalling.

“Really.” His voice is so forceful that I can’t do anything but accept.

“Okay,” I say, the energy sapping from my body.

It should feel strange to entrust my child to this man who, by all accounts, is the least child-friendly man alive. This is a man who is famous for being callous, for hating people and loving business. This is a man who is said to not care about anything or anyone.

But he takes Lila into his arms, and she starts crying at him and snotting all over his shirt — and he still smiles.

Having a kid has done something really wonderful to him. Lila’s made him into a real human being. Nobody is ever going to look at him the same after this, though they will probably question whether this is an act. And they’ll be wrong.

This kind, loving Ellis is the true one. I’m certain of it.

“Thank you,” I say again, then drag my feet through to the living room so I can slump down onto the sofa.

It’s just like the first night I stayed over, all over again — Ellis reading Lila to sleep, me sitting on the sofa, trying my hardest to fight the exhaustion and stay awake. And failing.

Tomorrow, it will be two weeks since we started filming. Despite everything, I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Ellis to tell us to get lost. But he never has.

So often last week, he seemed in such a hurry to get rid of us, like we were just dead weight to him. Parasites infecting his space. A necessary evil to achieve his aims.

But today, in the other room, I can hear Ellis reading his favorite story:The Chipmunk and the Squirrel.It’s one of those charming picture books written in verse about an angry squirrel named Carl, and the chipmunk who he learns to be friends with. I can hear Ellis through the wall doing his particularly funny squeaky voice, and it makes me laugh to myself.

I lean back on the sofa, shut my eyes, listening to the murmurings through the wall, letting relief wash through me in waves that I don’t have to do it myself.

The sounds of the story must lull me to sleep too, because when I open my eyes, Ellis is sitting next to me with a bowl of pasta and a glass of wine. “Thank you very much,” I say, my mouth dry from the nap. I take the glass from him as he offers it to me. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Not for long,” he says, putting his own empty plate down. “And I figured you needed a rest, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Has anyone ever told you how generous you can be?” I ask, rubbing sleep out of my eyes.

“Generous?” he scoffs. “Generous? I’m not generous.”

“All right,” I say, but raise both eyebrows high at him to show that I don’t believe a word.

We sit in silence for a while as I start eating, but then I decide I’m not actually done. We’re getting closer. And I want to know more about him. “You might not think it, but you are one of the most generous people I know. This asshole act you put on… it’s not who you really are. I know that. Why do you keep pretending?”

“I’m not pretending,” he says unconvincingly, taking a swig of wine.

“Ellis, there are no cameras now. You don’t have anything to prove.”

“How did I find you?”

“What do you mean,how did you find me?”

“How do you make me feel like this? Like you care about me? Like I want to be better. For you.”

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