Page 79 of Fake Married to the Grumps

"Okay. I'll come with you. But only because I know how much this means to you."

A sense of relief washes over his features, and he offers me a grateful smile. "Thank you."

Chapter 8

Bryce

I slowly pull the car into the familiar driveway, my hands tightening on the steering wheel. The house looks just the same, yet so alien to me now.

My heart is pounding against my ribs, and I take a deep breath to try to calm my churning stomach. Facing my parents again after all this time twists my insides into knots.

We get out of the car, and Marissa follows closely beside me, her footsteps hesitant as she takes in the grandeur of the foyer.

The Alston family home isthe epitome ofwealth and privilege, a vivid indication of the world I left behind when I set out to pursue my dreams in Hollywood.

Ringing the doorbell, I stand there, trying to act tough when I'm a mess inside.

My heart’s pounding, and I feel like it's going to leap out at any moment. Finally, the door swings open, and there stands my mom in a blue dress that matches her eyes, looking like she's just encountered a ghost. Her brows jump to her hairline, and her face slowly morphs into a look of lucid incredulity.

My dad materializes by her side, and the look on his face isn't any better than my mom’s. Deep eyes identical to mine stare back at me, and I catch myself wishing I didn't look so much like him. With how dumbfounded they are, it's obvious they can't quite believe that their wayward son has returned home after all these years.

"Bryce, is that really you?" My mother exclaims, her voice tinged withdisbeliefas she rushes forward to envelop me in a tight hug.

I force a smile, trying to mask the unease that gnaws at the pit of my stomach. "Hey, Mom. Yeah, it's me. Surprise."

My father studies me carefully, his eyes roving over my face as if searching for something. His brows draw together ever so slightly, and he presses his lips into a thin line. "You look... different, son. Hollywood has certainly left its mark on you."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, knowing that any mention of my career choice is sure to spark a heated debate. "Yeah, well, life in the fast lane will do that to you."

Beside me, Marissa shifts her weight from one foot to the other. I don't have to look at her to know she feels out of place here. I shoot her an apologetic glance, knowing that she must be feeling out of place.

My parents turn to her as if only realizing she's here as well.

"Marissa, my dear, how're you?" Mom asks in an overly cheerful voice, absolutely trying to dissipate the tension.

"I’m fine. Thank you, Mrs. Alston. Yourself and Mr. Alston?"

"Well, let’s just say we're getting old and looking forward to the young ones taking over."

Right.

We both know what he's talking about.

Just as the tension threatens to suffocate us all, Cindy breezes into thelivingroom. Her eyes widen slightly in surprise at the sight of her best friend by my side.

"Marissa …"

"Erm ... Bryce invited me."

I shrug nonchalantly, trying to play it off as no big deal. "Relax, Cindy. We were both heading in the same direction, so I offered her a ride. It's not a big deal."

She narrows her eyes, clearly not buying my casual explanation. "Uh-huh. Well, come on, dinner is ready."

The aroma of Mom's pot roast and buttery mashed potatoes fills my nose. Marissa's arm brushes against mine as she takes the seat beside me at the table. I tense at her touch, wishing I could lean into her warmth and escape the chill of Dad's stare.

As we start to eat, my parents make small talk with Marissa, asking her about her job and how she enjoys the city. I add a few comments, talking about our time on the set and some of the challenges of the film industry. But it all falls apart when my father looks at me, his voice full of concern.

"So, Bryce, how's your acting career going?"

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