“I’m sure we will see him this summer,” I reassure her. “Maybe we could do a weekend in New York. I know you’ve been dying to see a Broadway musical.”
Though our legal custody arrangement is pretty standard, Rocky and I don’t have a court-mandated physical custody schedule. While I personally would not be devastated if he stumbled into a well, we’ve always been civil when it comes to the kids. And there’s never been much reason to argue about custody since he works way too much for a fifty/fifty arrangement to be feasible. When he’s on set, which is 90 percent of the time, the kids are with me. And when he’s in town, I make sure the kids are available to see him. Our marriagemay have ended, but he will be their father forever, and I don’t want them to grow up without him in their lives.
Pooja is constantly reminding me that I don’t have to “cater to that asshole,” but as Rocky has noted on more than one occasion, I’m not the one with a demanding work schedule. It’s hard to argue that point.
“And what will happen once you go back to work?” Pooja asks from time to time, as if mentioning my career will miraculously jump-start it. It’s a question I’ve asked myself more than once, and if we’re really being honest, it’s one of the reasons I haven’t been ready to jump back in. Sure, there have been offers for commercials. Small parts as a mom on TV shows. But nothing exciting enough to make me want to leave my kids. Sometimes, I worry that nothing ever will. That I’m the architect of my own irrelevance.
“Give the nanny more hours, I guess.” This answer never mollifies her.
“So, you’ll pay for a nanny, but Rocky gets free childcare? That seems fair.”
While I know Pooja has my best interests at heart, she has no idea what it’s like to have divorced parents. Her mom and dad are soulmates: They met in medical school, started their own dermatology practice, and spend their weekends gardening in matching sunhats. She’s never felt responsible for her parents’ emotions the way my brother and I have. She’s never had to show equal levels of enthusiasm for holiday gifts or act like she didn’t have too much fun after spending time with the other parent. It was exhausting at times, and I’m sure it’s why my brother moved to New York for college and never came back. We get together for holidays and family milestones, but other than that, I rarely see him.
I stayed in my marriage for way longer than I should have. I probably should have left when I first heard the rumors about Rocky’s infidelity. I definitely should have left when I caught him in bed witha PA half his age. But I kept trying to make it work. I insisted on marriage counseling and gave him chance after chance, because I never wanted my own kids to go through what I did.
But history repeated itself anyway. It’s one of the reasons I haven’t ventured back out into the dating scene since our divorce was finalized. Clearly, I have atrocious taste in men. How could I trust myself to have a relationship? Shielding my kids was hard enough the first time. I’m not sure I have it in me to do it again.
I shake the thought away and pivot my attention back to Isla and Levi.
“Any thoughts on what we should do today?”
The bell above the doorway chimes, drawing my attention before I receive an answer. My seat has a direct view of the entryway, and I watch as a familiar-looking group walks in. A burly man is holding hands with a pretty blond woman, and behind them trails a taller figure with a toddler on his shoulders. The moment they pass through the doorway, I freeze, my eyes landing on his storm-gray irises. Butterflies clamor to life in my stomach.
Oh boy.
6JESSE
I don’t know why I’m surprised she’s here. This is a very small town, not exactly bursting with options for breakfast. Still, the sight of her in the café I come to almost every weekend immediately throws me out of equilibrium. I go still, suddenly forgetting how to walk.
We hold each other’s gazes for a long beat, and the intense way she’s looking at me makes me wonder again if she’s put the pieces of our shared past together. Then the spell is broken by Shelby’s high-pitched shriek, which she unsuccessfully attempts to muffle behind her hand.
“Oh my gosh, it’sher,” she whispers excitedly. “I can’t believe she’s here. In our town!”
Toby rolls his eyes. “Believe it. She’s our client. You’re going to her house tomorrow.”
Shelby pretends not to hear him. She leans over the bakery counter to stage-whisper to Violet.
“Vi! Do you know who that is?” Violet’s gaze follows Shelby’s less-than-subtle gesture toward the table where Marissa and her kids are sitting.
“Uh, should I? I assumed they were Airbnb guests.”
Shelby shakes her head excitedly.
“No! That’s Marissa Morgan. You know, Felicia Fox. From the movies?”
Violet tilts her head to the side, giving Marissa an appraising once-over. “Really? She looks different without the silver braids. They never made sense to me anyway. What kind of fox has pigtails?”
The better question is, why would anyone cover hair that gorgeous?I think. At least I meant to think it. Based on the way Shelby and Violet whip around to face me, I guess I’ve said the words out loud. Shelby’s mouth drops open, and Violet’s eyes are twinkling with amusement. I turn away, bouncing Charlotte on my shoulders as I pretend to study the dessert case. I refuse to be judged by two women who didn’t know reindeer were real animals until the ninth grade.
Shelby catches Marissa’s attention and waves frantically. Marissa waves back, but there’s a trace of apprehension in her expression. She glances over Shelby’s shoulder to meet my gaze again, and I do my best to silently communicate that we aren’t complete psychos. Most of the time.
Shelby doesn’t seem to register the unease on Marissa’s face. She grabs Toby by the hand, dragging him as she charges toward Marissa’s table. Reluctantly, I follow behind them.
“Hi!” Shelby exclaims the moment she arrives at her destination. “I’m Shelby, Legacy’s design specialist. This is my daughter, Charlotte. You’ve already met my husband Toby. And you’re Marissa Morgan,obviously.” She lets out a nervous giggle, and I feel a rush of secondhand embarrassment.Christ, this is hard to watch. Shelby is normally much cooler than this. My brother is the blabbermouth of the family.
“Sorry, it must be so weird to have strangers know your name!” she continues. “I normally wouldn’t bother celebrities in public, but you’re our client and all, so I hope it’s okay. And I’m so excited you want me to work on your lake house. We’re so happy to have you here! Sorry, I feel like I’m being weird. Am I being weird?”
“Not at all, baby,” Toby tells her. “Smooth as sandpaper.”
