“This thing with your handyman. Quit beating around the bush. We both know you have feelings for him.”
I exhale. There’s no point in lying to Pooja. She knows me better than anyone, and not just because she knew me with my original nose.
“There’s just something about him,” I say. “There aren’t a lot of people I can let my guard down with, you know? But when I’m with Jesse, I feel like… myself.”
She nods, clearly pleased with this confession.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?”
“WhatcanI do about it? His life is here and mine is in LA.”
“You aren’t going to believe this, but we have this invention called airplanes.”
I shake my head. “I just don’t know if it’s a good idea. What Jesse and I have works here. But what if it doesn’t translate to my life in LA? What if it’s like one of those deep-water fishes that completely falls apart when it goes above sea level?”
Pooja nods sagely. “A relationship blobfish.”
“Exactly.” I take a bite of my eggs. “I think it’s best if what we have stays here in PA. I’ve had a public relationship before, and I know how those turn out.”
“Fair. But just because Rocky turned out to be an asshole, it doesn’t mean the same thing will happen with Jesse.”
She has a point. Then again, I never would have predicted things with Rocky would turn out like they did. He was different when I first met him, brand-new to Hollywood and eager to prove himself. But he always had magnetic, illuminating charm. He was the sun, casting radiance everywhere he went. When he shone his light on you, you felt like you were the most important person in the room. The problem is that bright light has a way of blinding people. I knew he was a flirt; actors often are. But for some reason, I thought I could change him. That once he settled down with me, I’d stay the center of his universe. I should have realized I would never be enough. That he’d have a compulsive need for attention and validation that could only be found in other women’s beds.
But Jesse isn’t like Rocky. He feels no need to be cast as the leading man. He’s more like the quiet extra in the background, justwaiting for his scene-stealing moment. My heart is telling me that Jesse is different from Rocky, that I can trust him. Then again, my heart has been wrong before.
Pooja sets down her fork and picks up her phone. A small wrinkle forms between her brows as she scrolls.
“Speaking of your ex-husband, I take it you haven’t seen any tabloid photos from R&R’s vacation?”
“Nope. I gave Riley strict instructions not to send me anything about them while I was out here.”
“Smart.” As she studies the screen, Pooja takes a sip of her latte in an unconvincing display of nonchalance.
“You’re looking at pictures of them right now, aren’t you?”
“Just keeping tabs for you. That’s what best friends do.”
“So thoughtful.” I take a sip of my own coffee. “So, are you going to show me or what?”
“Finally.I thought you’d never ask.”
She scoots her chair closer to me and opens her browser. The headline at the top readsROCKY RAMIREZ AND RAYNA STEWART CUDDLE UP IN CABO. Beneath it, the subheading saysR&R GET AWAY FOR SOME MUCH-NEEDED R&R.
I shake my head. “Wow. What unparalleled creativity.”
Pooja smirks. “And they say journalism is dead.”
Despite myself, I read the first two paragraphs.
The only thing better than a second-chance romance? Being whisked away to celebrate a new engagement in style!
Rayna joined Rocky and his kids, Isla (9) and Levi (5), for a family vacation at a private ritzy residence in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. The villa, which rents for $20,000 per night, includes housekeeping, a butler, and chef service. Located just steps from the beach, it’s the perfect backdrop forlong, romantic walks on the shore. And Rayna and Rocky are no strangers to long, romantic strolls. The pair, who first met on the set of the teen tearjerkerA Marathon for Melanie…
I bypass the rest of the article, scrolling down to the photos of Rayna in a “barely there bikini” and Rocky taking snaps of her on his own camera (because of course. He is, after all, anartist) until I reach the single image of my kids. They’re at the edge of the shoreline, with Rocky standing beside them. Levi’s hands are out to the side, and it looks like he’s flapping, a stim he typically uses when excited. Then again, the behavior also emerges when he’s stressed. Without seeing his face, it’s impossible to know which it is.
Isla is squatting by the ocean, filling a bucket with water. No doubt she’s preparing to build a sand castle. No idle time for that one. My girl is always working on a project, even when she’s on vacation. I can’t make out her face either; the photographers have graciously honored our request to blur it. On the one hand, I’m always thrilled when they respect our wishes for the kids’ privacy. On the other, I’m desperate to see them.
“Rayna doesn’t look happy,” Pooja muses. “Her smile looks… strained, I guess.”
