Page 29

When I finally got Ray to take a Xanax and get in bed, I went straight over to Cassie’s house to end things. At that point, Cassie and I had been seeing each other for a couple of months. A stolen afternoon after a PO meeting here, a spontaneous hotel room there. It was casual. Nothing more than a fling. It would be easy to end.

I rang the bell, waiting on Cassie’s spacious porch for her to answer. Time stretched before me, and I was seized with a panic that felt like a heart attack. She opened the door to find me on my knees, struggling to breathe. She knelt down and hovered over my shoulder, rubbing my back. When I could speak, I convinced her not to call an ambulance. That afternoon was the first time we didn’t sleep together. Instead, she offered me water and asked me questions about my history with anxiety, sharing stories about how it plagued her brother too. I was too distracted by the lingering tightness in my chest to notice the empathetic way she listened to me, how a connection was solidifying with Cassie, one where she got to take care of me the way she did her brother, her husband. Lily too. And once Cassie sees you as part of her clan, it’s impossible to break away from her.

“Did the studio call? Are they going to air as is?” I ask. It’s the most we can hope for, that they will air this season as is and Ray will get to exit his show valiantly, passing on the baton and moving on to other ventures.

Confusion sweeps Ray’s face before he beams. “It’s better.”

The fist in my gut clenches tight again even before he tells me he’s found a backer.

I try to focus on his words, only Ray’s talking too fast, detailing the investment firm that reached out to his agent with a space in SoHo, thirty-thousand square feet for his Pan-Asian answer to Mario Batali’s Eataly. My mind is working too slowly. This isn’t about Knives Up. It’s about his superstore. Why’s he talking about his superstore? And SoHo? Didn’t he have his sights on a location in LA?

I cut him off when he starts detailing the dim sum stands, the ventilation system he’ll need for Korean barbeque. “You’re looking at properties in New York?”

“Yeah,” he says, irritated. Somehow, I’m the one who’s annoying him.

“I thought you were thinking about—” I try to locate the name of the area in LA, trapped somewhere behind random memories of those shrimp dumplings Kai loves and the fact that I’d kill for a bao right about now. “Century City,” I blurt, pleased that I’d managed to unearth the right locale.

“Sure, that too. The plan has always been New York first.”

“And this space conveniently manifested right when you needed an exit from the show?” Vaguely, I know I should be mad, but I’m genuinely confounded by the possibility that I’ve missed or forgotten this plan. Ray frowns like I’m being petulant. Am I being petulant? Is my tone different from how it sounds in my head?

“Think how much the boys would love living in the city.” Living in the city? So, this isn’t just about a new store. He wants us to move?

Ray’s still talking. “We could take them to theater. Art museums. And we’d be closer to your parents.”

“They have theater and art museums in LA. And we see my parents plenty.” I shake out my fingers, which I’ve unconsciously been clenching, as it begins to dawn on me how angry this is making me.

“But you’ve always wanted to move back to New York.”

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’ve always wanted to return to the city. Later, when the kids are older. Not now, while the boys are young, when they have a pool and a playhouse and a backyard, when they live an hour’s drive and a boat ride from one of the most remote islands in the country.

Ray studies me, genuinely perplexed. He actually expected me to jump at this idea without a conversation or any forewarning. My heart sinks. He’s already said yes. He’s probably already found an apartment for us too.

“What about my career?”

“I think you can be an out of work screenwriter in New York as easily as LA.”

His jab is a surprise blow, nearly knocking me over, even as I know his capacity for cruelty when he’s annoyed.

He takes my hand. “I just mean that you can write from anywhere. And if you need to be in LA, there are airplanes.”

“I could say the same about New York.” I pull my hand away. I will not fight with Ray in such close proximity to the other parents. To Cassie. But the energy’s building between us, the friction of a fight I’m not sure I’m in a place to stop if it begins in earnest.

My eyes dart around the pine trees and do a quick inventory of the campground, which is mostly abandoned. Dave and Cassie continue to play cornhole. The methodical thunk echoes as the beanbags hit wood. Others read in camping chairs. I scan the campsite for Lei. I haven’t been paying great attention to him, or to Kai, for that matter. Or to my husband, if he’s already plotted our move across the country. Before I can devolve too far down the path of all the ways I’m a terrible husband and father, I see that Lei’s with Javi and Sofía, poring over the pamphlet the park ranger gave them. I remember that I have been paying attention to Kai, too, as I put him down for a nap while Ray was off signing a lease on our new life in New York.

“Nothing’s been decided, okay?” Ray reaches for my hand, and I let him take it because I don’t want to be petulant and let him write off my anger as something less reasonable than it is.

“I’m going to see how Lei’s doing with that ranger thing.” I slip my hand from his.

Ray kisses my temple. “We’ll talk more when we get home. This could be really good. For all of us.” I watch Ray skip away, satisfied that when we resume this conversation it will be to plan, not debate, our move to New York.

“Hey, man.” I turn to see an even more defeated Brady beside me, holding my phone toward me. “Thanks.”

It takes me a moment to remember that I loaned Brady my phone.

“You reach Mona?”

He forces a smile. “Straight to voicemail. I’m sure it’s nothing.” We can both hear in his tone that it’s not nothing.