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“Ok, ok, I get it,” I sigh, feeling a wistful pang. “I thought he was better than Jake in every way, too. But look what happened: he’s just going to swoop in, and steal credit for all my years of research?”
“It doesn’t sound like he was stealing, exactly,” Mary-Alice offers gently. “Just that he got carried away with the idea, and didn’t run it by you first. But it is a great idea for a movie,” she adds. “I mean, all that action and romance? Buried treasure and gunfights? I’d watch that for sure. Ooh, do you think he could cast Jackson Kane as Earl? He would be perfect, all sweaty and passionate from working all day in the mines …” Mary-Alice muses with a faraway look in her eyes.
“He would be perfect,” I agree, annoyed. “And yes, the movie would be a slam dunk. I’ve always said Earl and Madeline had the perfect tragic love story, and with Reeve’s style and talent … but that’s not the point!”
Mary-Alice tries to hide a grin, leaning over to steal a handful of popcorn. “You’re right, I’m sorry,” she says, her lips twitching. “The point is …?”
“That I hate feeling like this,” I say with a sigh, collapsing back in the cushions. “Like I have to hoard and fight for credit, because I won’t get any otherwise. It’s small and petty, and I don’t want to be small and petty!”
Not when I could be wrapped up in Reeve’s arms, kissing him senseless and solving mysterious treasure hunts, and being the best, sexiest, happy version of myself.
“Do you really think Reeve would shut you out and treat you the way Jake did?” Mary-Alice asks, her brow furrowing.
“No …” I admit grudgingly. “But I didn’t think Jake would, either, and look how that turned out. He gets to stride around with my name, on a spin-off of the show I built, pretending like I never existed. And Reeve knows!” I exclaim. “I told him all about it, and how it made me feel. I really thought he understood, but then he turns around and goes full-steam ahead on this movie pitch without even asking me first. I can’t believe he’d be so oblivious!”
Mary-Alice gives me a sympathetic smile. “This is what happens, babe. It can’t all be whirlwind sex marathons and flirty banter. Sooner or later, someone screws up. You make a dumb mistake, and have to fight. It’s not the end of the world – or the relationship.”
“I know.” I sit up, and reach to check my phone. “But he hasn’t even called.”
“Didn’t you say you wanted some space?”
“Yes, but I didn’t mean it!” I give a pathetic groan. “I like him, Mary-Alice. I really like him. I might even love the man, if he turns out to be as wonderful as I think he is. Dammit, why couldn’t he stay perfect and intuitive and anticipate my every need forever?”
She laughs. “Why did he have to be human, you mean? I know, it sucks. You have to have actual conversations and communicate your needs. When we started dating, Kyle actually thought that when he texted and said, “I’m stopping at the bodega, do you want a crunchy snack?” and I said “no, I’m good,” it meant I was good, and not, “I’m going to be deeply disappointed if you don’t bring me a crunchy snack.”
I laugh, despite myself. “So what did you do?”
“I had to explain in plain English that when I say I don’t want food, I always actually want food.” Mary-Alice shrugs. “It took a few tries, but he got the hang of it, and now the man doesn’t stop for gas without picking me up a bag of Fritos and one of those disgusting gas station hot dogs.” She pauses, rubbing her pregnant belly. “Ooh, a hot dog. I think that’s what I need right now.”
Mary-Alice gets up and goes to the kitchen. I trail after her.
“See, Jake never got the hang of understanding anything,” I sigh, “Even when I asked for it directly, so in the end, I just went ahead and did everything myself, and seethed with silent resentment that he wasn’t picking up on any of my cues.”
“And look how well that turned out for the both of you!” Mary-Alice cracks, as she pulls a package of Oscar Meyer dogs from the back of the refrigerator and turns on the toaster oven. “But I don’t know, Ives … it feels like Reeve is different. I bet if you sat him down and explained exactly how you feel about this whole movie thing, he’d do whatever it takes to work it out.”
I feel another pang. This time, remembering the confused look on Reeve’s face – and then the stricken expression when he figured out why I was so mad.
Right before I stormed off and left him hanging without a chance to talk it through.
I wince. My conflict-resolution skills could use some work, that’s for sure.
“I suppose you’re going to tell me that if I want this relationship to be different to my last marriage, I’m going to have to handle it differently, too?” I ask wryly.
“Sucks to be an emotionally mature adult, I know,” Mary-Alice says cheerfully. Then she pauses over a spread of relish and pickles. “Wait, you saidlastmarriage? Does this mean Reeve’s going to be your next one?”
“What? No!” I blurt, panicking. “That’s crazy. It’s way too soon,” I tell her firmly. “Absolutely not. No!”
Mary-Alice smirks. “What’s that Shakespeare wrote? Me thinketh the lady doth protesteth too much.”
“And I thinketh the lady needs to eat her gross hot-dog and keep her ludicrous opinions to herself,” I shoot back at her, smiling, even as I can’t help but wonder how that forever would feel. Waking up with Reeve every morning … bickering over old movies, and singing along to the radio, and losing myself in naked, sweaty, gasping passion every night—
“So,” Mary-Alice breaks through my brief, wild fantasies. “Now that you’re not cursing his name and threatening to mow him down in the street, how long are you going to keep him hanging?”
“Tomorrow,” I decide. “I’ve still got some cursing left in me for now. But then tomorrow, I’ll go take him a muffin and we’ll talk it through.”
Mary-Alice gives a wicked grin. “Muffins, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
I laugh. “Shut up and eat your reconstituted beef product.”
