I shrug. “I’m sure she isn’t used to wrangling children for sunscreen application. WWE training couldn’t prepare you for that. But she’ll have to get used to it if she’s going to be a stepmom.” I did notice that she’s not in any photos with my kids, and only one with Rocky. But based on what I know about her, she’s probably dedicating a good chunk of the trip to her grueling workout routine and microdosing of bee venom.
I scroll back up to a solo shot of Rayna. She’s dressed in a white string bikini that shows off every inch of her perfectly toned body.
“She really is gorgeous,” I admit.
Pooja tsks. “Sure. With enough money and cryotherapy, anyone can be a showstopper.”
She takes the phone from my hand and slips it back into her purse.
“Listen to me. Is Rayna hot? Of course. But you know who else is hot? Marissa Morganstern. You’re gorgeous, and you’re smart, and you’re talented. And I know it’s scary, but I am so proud of you. You’re becoming the star of your own life again. And if I may say so, it’s about damn time.”
22JESSE
Marissa looks surprised when she opens the door to see me and Shelby standing on her front porch. I can’t blame her, since she not-so-subtly kicked me out when her friend Pooja arrived yesterday and hasn’t spoken to me since. At this point, I have no idea where we stand, and it’s making me uneasy. Was our hookup a one-time thing and now it’s back to business? Are we supposed to just go back to the way things were, like she wasn’t screaming my name twenty-four hours ago?
“Hi!” Marissa says, eyeing me with uncertainty. “I, uh… wasn’t expecting you.” That much is clear, especially since we don’t have anything scheduled. But Shelby insisted on coming over today to get final measurements for the newly installed bay window before placing an upholstery order for the cushion. I tried telling her that Marissa had plans and wouldn’t be around. She just laughed and said that our sex date did not count as plans. When I didn’t respond, she took one look at my flushed cheeks and high-fived my brother. I made an on-the-spot decision to never return for Shitty Spaghetti Night.
“Hey-yo!” Shelby calls, oblivious to Marissa’s bewildered expression. She glances down at the glass of champagne in her hand and grins.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Marissa is taking charge and becoming the main character in her own story!” her friend calls from the kitchen.
Shelby lets out a whoop. “Yeah, girl, I’m here for it! Pour me a glass, will you?”
I watch as Marissa introduces Shelby to Pooja, who immediately becomes her best friend. No surprise there: Everyone who meets Shelby immediately becomes her best friend.
I got the impression Marissa had forgotten Pooja was planning to visit. I also got the impression that she’d never mentioned me before. And that was like getting slapped across the face by a massive reality check.
I keep coming back to the way she introduced me.My carpenter. That stung. Is that how she sees me, as nothing more than the hired help? If that’s the case, I get why she was dismissive of me.
I don’t know why I expected otherwise. Iamher carpenter. And yeah, we had a great night together, but what did I think was going to happen? This was never going to be anything more than a casual hookup.
At the end of the summer, she’s going to go back to her Hollywood life, and I’ll be an amusing anecdote she’ll recount to her friends over an expensive sushi dinner.Did I tell you about the townie I hooked up with this summer?
Actually, she probably wouldn’t even mention it.
The thought evokes physical pain, and I rub a fist over my chest, trying to distill the sting. I know I’m being ridiculous. Marissa is not that kind of person, and I know she doesn’t see me that way. But I also need to put last night behind me. I’m smart enough to realize there isn’t a future for the two of us. Girls like that don’t stay in places like this.
In fact, that girl already didn’t stay in this place.
Of course, I didn’t think I would either.
If only I could get my brain to cooperate. But I’m like a moth to the flame, unable to tear my eyes away from Marissa. She’s radiant, more lit up than I’ve ever seen her as she moves around the kitchen, scooping nuts into a fancy-looking bowl and laughing at something Shelby has said.
Shit.This is not going to end well for me.
“Okay, we need the full story,” Shelby is saying. “Tell us more about this movie you’re making.”
Movie?What movie?
I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until three sets of eyes turn in my direction.
“Marissa and Pooja are planning to adapt a YA novel,” Shelby says. “With an autistic main character. How cool is that?”
“You’re going back to work?” The words come out too peppy, ringing false. The corners of Marissa’s smile falter and I’m certain she’s clocked the undertone of displeasure.God, what is wrong with me?This is amazing news, and I am so happy for her. But it also comes with a heady sense of déjà vu. I remember the last time Marissa was excited for a big part. I didn’t see her again for two decades after that.
But I know that this is important to her. Which means I need to be as supportive now as I was then. I clear my throat and try again. “Marissa, that’s amazing.”
