“Jesse, I couldn’t be happier if I’d kissed her myself.” Shelby purses her lips. “Hmm, I wonder if she’d be open to that.”
I narrow my eyes, and she winks at me.
“Come inside,” my brother says. “Dinner is almost ready, and Charlotte has been waiting for you to play with her.”
My niece is sprawled on the living room carpet, wearing half a dozen plastic necklaces and a skewed princess crown. There are a couple of baby dolls lying on the floor beside her, as well as a stuffed pig wearing the rest of the monarchy’s gemstones. When she sees me, Charlotte leaps off the floor and flings herself into my arms. I give her a squeeze, then immediately flip her upside down. The crown goes flying but she doesn’t seem to notice as she squeals in delight.
“Geez, this living room is a mess,” I say. “I’d better clean it up before it gets worse.” I sweep her across the carpet, using her hair as a broom as she kicks her feet gleefully.
“Toby, I think you need a new broom,” I call to my brother. “This one is way too squirmy.”
After a minute, I set Charlotte down gingerly on the carpet and she immediately crawls into my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and stares at me with those big, brown eyes. She hasn’t even asked for anything yet and I already know I’m going to say yes.
“Uncle Jesse, will you play Pretty Pretty Princess with me?” she asks.
“Only if you let me be the blue princess this time. Last time you got to be blue, and you know it’s my favorite.”
Her tiny nose crinkles mischievously. “Fine, you can be blue. But no cheating!”
“You might want to turn that finger around, ma’am. I am not the one who asks for a redo every time she lands on the black ring.”
Charlotte giggles but doesn’t argue the point. She knows she’s guilty as charged.
My heart tugs with mixed emotion as I watch her scamper off to fetch the game. I love being an uncle.
I’d always imagined I’d be married at this point in my life, have a couple of kids of my own. My dreams were never too big. I figured we’d settle down in Pittsburgh or Philadelphia. Buy a house in the suburbs that had a yard for Diesel and room for a swing set. I’d have some boring but stable job in finance. It all seemed perfectly reasonable. Likely, even. But nothing in my life has turned out the way I planned. I never imagined that at thirty-six, I’d still be living in the same town I grew up in, alone and very much single.
I know that a lot of this is on me. I’m not the only one whose life was affected when my dad died. My brother was just as crushed as I was. But Toby didn’t let the grief swallow him. He picked himself up and kept on living. But I got stuck, somehow. Life had thrown me a series of hurdles, and I no longer had the will to jump them. Instead of dusting myself off and pushing through, I just sat on the sidelines and accepted that I wouldn’t be going any farther. And everyone around me seemed to notice.
“Things aren’t going back to the way they were, and we both know it,” Amber had told me the last time we spoke. “I haven’t been your priority for a long time. It’s like you don’t even care anymore. About me, or anything. You aren’t going to finish business school. You aren’t coming back to DC. And you are never going to leave Lake Tranquility.”
Her words felt like a pronouncement, cementing the permanence of my situation. After that, I didn’t see a point in looking for a replacement at Legacy. I took the ad off LinkedIn, accepted my future as the head of the company, and never looked back. I have everything I need here anyway. A steady job, family, a few friends, and a well-worn library card. My life settled into a routine, and it was perfectly adequate. Until now, at least. Suddenly that restless feeling is back, that sense that there is something more out there. I’m not sure I like it.
Shelby is eyeing me expectantly when I sit down at the table. I pretend not to notice as I scoop a ladle of overcooked ziti onto my plate. But she doesn’t let me off that easily. No surprise there.
“How long are you going to make us wait for details?” she asks.
“Just all of eternity. Hope that’s not an issue.”
She throws her hands up, exasperated. “Come on, give me something. Are you guys, like, together now?”
I raise a brow. “After one kiss? You’ve been married for too long. Besides, what would ‘together’ even look like? She’s only here for the summer, Shelby.”
“So? What’s wrong with a little summer romance?”
Nothing, in theory. It’s just that kissing Marissa was unlike any experience I’ve had before. Probably because she’s unlike any woman I’ve met before. No matter how much I want to believe it, I know I couldn’t just see her casually for a few months. The effect she has on me is too intense, too dangerous. Deep in my bones, I know that she has the power to ruin me.
What’s worse is that this doesn’t deter me. A flicker of hope has been ignited, and I find myself wondering if maybe somehow, this could work out. Marissa said she feels more at home here than she ever did in LA. And it’s not like she’d be the only celebrity to ever move to Pennsylvania. Shelby is always going on about some ex-boybander who lives on a farm a few hours from here. Maybe she could make it work too.
Marissa’s bewildered expression on the paintball course flashesacross my mind. The way she explained how she is always the shield, that she protects everyone else, but no one ever protects her. I hated hearing that. If she was mine, she would never feel that way again. I would make it my duty to make her feel safe every day. To love her the way she is meant to be loved. To be the partner she’s always deserved.
But am I even something she wants? When I walked back to my truck last night, still grinning like an idiot, it felt clear that we have a connection. But the more time that passes, the more doubt starts to creep in. There’s no way Marissa and I could ever have a future together.
Right?
19MARISSA
Jesse comes by on Thursday to paint my bedroom. I volunteered to help with the project; it wasn’t like I have anything else on the agenda today, and Toby and Shelby were more than happy to take the afternoon off. He looks better than ever this afternoon, dressed in an old T-shirt and a pair of paint-stained jeans that hang low on his hips. I’ve had painters at my house before, but most of them had potbellies and wore bib overalls. Exactly zero of them looked like they stepped off the pages of a Sexy Handyman calendar.
