The Intern: The Billionaire's Successor

They return to the apartment at dinnertime with takeout around the time that I’m finalizing the speaker notes in the presentation. I’ve spent all day on this, but it’s impressive work for a Saturday; even I can admit that. Lana will undoubtedly have praise to follow. And while it would have been a thousand times more fun to spend the day with my brother in New York, I know that I needed to do this for our future.

Plus, I don’t think Charlie even noticed I was gone.

When Davis and Charlie walk in, they’re both laughing so hard that they don’t bother to greet me. They just keep chuckling and throwing these quips and fragments of sentences back and forth, which is infinitely less amusing than either of them realizes. Finally, I clear my throat and wave at the two of them so that they finally acknowledge me.

“Did you two have a good day?” I’m being snarky; they obviously had a phenomenal, life-changing, carnival of a day.

“Yeah, Davis finally learned how to tip,” Charlie replies, which makes both of them laugh out loud again.

An inside joke? Fabulous.

“I knew leaving you two alone was a mistake,” I mutter, even though I don’t actually mind that much. While they’re annoying, it’s difficult for me to be angry with either of these men when they look so happy.

We eat dinner on the couch together. Thai food, which Charlie has never tried before. That clearly baffles Davis, but he knows better than to say anything. He’s smart enough to figure out that there aren’t many Thai restaurants in small town Missouri. He simply offers Charlie some of his pad see ew in exchange for a bite of his curry.

Davis also pairs dinner with a bottle of wine that he picked up, which I’m aware is so expensive that Charlie would throw up if he knew how much money he was drinking. Tactfully, Davis doesn’t mention that either and continues to top off Charlie’s glass until I have to remind him that he’s underage. Davis, the son of a billionaire, clearly goes through three stages of recognition as he recalls that normal college kids generally have not been drinking fine wine with dinner since they were in high school. He quickly takes the hint.

Once I get over the initial shock of eating dinner seated between my baby brother and the guy I’m sleeping with, the evening ends up being close to perfect. Davis leaves not too long after we finish eating, and I know it’s because he has to work as well—like he usually does on Saturdays.

Finally alone, Charlie helps me put away the leftover takeout before I join him on the couch to watch TV—one of our nightly rituals.

“I like him,” Charlie mentions offhandedly. “Davis. Did you know that his father is a billionaire?”

I stop flipping channels on the television and look over at Charlie. “I did. Although, you figured it out a hell of a lot faster than I did.”

Charlie tightens his features together like I’ve just confessed to not knowing who the Beatles are. “The guy looks like his father is a billionaire.”

“When I met him, he just looked like a normal guy,” I replied, thinking back to Davis in that nightclub. “He was so sweet, actually. He bought me a coffee at this café and he was digging through his pockets to count out the change because in Europe their coins are so much more valuable than the coins we use here in the States.”

“You met in Europe?” Charlie inquires. “I thought you met at work.”

“Years ago randomly,” I say, choosing to under-explain. “It was a big coincidence that I met him again at Davenport-Ridgeway. Anyway, it was cute picturing him counting out coins when he could have just bought the café on a credit card.”

Charlie shakes his head, as if to say, Davis would never. “He says he’s thoughtful about what he buys. He says he only spends his money on things that are high-quality and that he needs.”

That comment shouldn’t make me surge with pride, but it does—in a twisted, uniquely Davis and Olivia way, it does. “And how did this come up?”

“I asked him if he’s ever thought about buying an NFL team.”

“Of course you did.”

Charlie’s placid look slowly fades and his expression becomes serious. “Hey, I want you to know that I told Davis that growing up was hard for us. He didn’t know, and I feel like I may have messed up. You obviously didn’t tell him for a reason.”

I sigh, but I know better than to be upset with Charlie for doing something that he didn’t realize was wrong. “I didn’t,” I admit grimly. “What did you tell him?”

“About Albie and mom. I told him that you’ve sacrificed everything for me for as long as I can remember. I think he had a sense of that last part, but he definitely didn’t know just how bad it was.”

The mobile home. Dad abandoning us. Hearing Albie beat and belittle mom night after night.

“I’m sorry,” Charlie goes on. “If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t put-off by it. He was pretty sympathetic—even for a billionaire. But I am sorry, Liv.”

“You didn’t know. Plus, you’ve always been better at sharing that part of our past.” I lift a shoulder. “I could have told him, but I guess I didn’t want that to be who we are for the rest of our lives. Not talking about it makes that easier.”

“I get that,” he agrees. “But Davis also didn’t know that you’re paying for me to go to college.”

“Trying.”

“And succeeding,” Charlie insists before he nudges my arm with his fist. “Look, I know that you want to take care of me. I know that it’s practically hardwired into you. But, Olivia, one of these days I’m going to have to take care of myself.”

I ignore his hopeful expression—his wide-eyed, unjaded, nineteen-year-old expression. “Sure, but that day isn’t today. You deserve this. You deserve to go to school and have fun with your friends. You deserve to study without thinking about mountains of student debt and working three or four jobs. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you deal with the shit that I did when I was nineteen.”

Charlie’s face tightens. “I don’t. I never will because you’ve done an incredible job protecting me. But you don’t have to be in survival mode anymore. That’s never happening to us again. Mom’s dead. Albie’s long gone. We’re good, Liv.”

“You’re asking me to fundamentally reset myself,” I push back. “It’s not as simple as waking up one morning and thinking my problems are over. That’s fairytale shit and I know better than to bank on that.”