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Celia nods and Amanda slips out of the kitchen to find her wife.
Editing won’t save me from coming across as wooden and boring. It’s one thing to get panned for playing a fictional character. Another to get roasted for being myself.
Celia takes my mug and refills it. “Are you going to be all right in LA without Timothy?”
I accept the mug and take a drink. “Yup.” If my voice comes out tight, it’s because the coffee is too hot, not because I don’t want to return to a place where I have no real friends beyond my personal trainer. And I’m not sure I can count a man who makes me do a million burpees as a friend.
She fills her mug, adding cream and a spoonful of sugar. “Come on, let’s sit before we clean up. I have to admit, I’m surprised you’ve stuck it out in LA. Timothy always wanted to be a stunt performer, but acting never seemed like something you’d want to do.”
It wasn’t. I tripped into it and the money was good and somehow I kept getting roles. My whole career is a series of fortunate mistakes. “You think I should’ve stuck with modeling?”
She takes a sip, considering. “You know, Jessie still has a magazine page from a cologne ad hidden away in her home office in New York. Don’t tell her I told you, I’m not supposed to know. It’s under her hot firefighter calendar.”
Interesting.I force a laugh. “Are you sure it’s not on a dartboard?”
She smiles. “She’s altered it.”
Of course.
“Seriously though. Are you happy?”
“This past year has been hell,” I say. It’s true, but not the whole truth.
Celia clucks her tongue. “Even before that, honey. You went to LA because Timothy did, not because you wanted to.”
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable at being so transparent. “Someone needed to keep an eye on him.” I joke. Not that I did a good job of that. He was injured doing a stunt I couldn’t get right. I could have lost my best friend because I struggle with moderately complicated choreography. The way he was on set that day, slurring his words, angry and confused after hitting his head…I shudder at the memory.
Celia reaches over and takes my hand. “It’s not your job to look after him. It never has been.”
The truth is, Timothy looked after me more than I did him, and it was easy to get caught in his enthusiasm. To chase his dream with him while accepting whatever came my way. Maybe if I hadn’t found success things would’ve been different. I’d have come home.
“What would you do?” she asks me quietly. “If you could do anything.”
“Am I that irredeemably bad at acting?”
“Yes.” Jessie answers as she walks into the room, heading straight for the coffee.
I don’t respond. I’d like to ignore her, but every step she takes makes her short black sweater dress lift half an inch up her thigh and my brain goes where it doesn’t belong. I’d give anything to find out what kind of Christmas underwear she’s wearing today. Candy canes? Gingerbread men? If we were alone, I’d step behind her, pull her thick hair back, put my lips to her ear, and ask.
Thank god we’re not alone.
“Ignore her,” Celia says to me, patting my hand and turning to Jessie. “You have a date for the wedding.”
Jessie glances sharply over her shoulder at us. “Me?”
“Yes, you.”
When Jessie turns her suspicious amber eyes on me, I shake my head. She turns back to her coffee, but not before I catch the look on her face. Relief.
I’m so broken that even though I expect it from her, it still hurts.
She doesn’t ask who her date is. She snags a Danish and walks quickly under the mistletoe and out of the kitchen.
Celia turns back to me. “Do you want to keep acting?”
The reprieve Jessie brought me with her coffee run is over. “I don’t know. What do you think I should do?”
“That’s up to you, sweetie,” she says softly. It’s the response I expected, but I’m disappointed anyway. “You’re always welcome here if you want to take some time to think about what you want.”
