Chapter 28 Penny
Chapter 28
Penny
“I still love you.”
It’s the second time Leo’s said those words, but love was never their problem.
They’ve been holed up in his room for most of the day, discussing the kids, the inn, anything but their relationship. His familiar scent wafts off the sheets, and she’s wondered, several times, what would happen if she dove inside the tangled white and pulled him on top of her. There’d be no turning back. She instead studies the rain falling outside the window, how the drops swathe the property in glittery diamonds and turn the trees an electric green. And she wonders how much of what Henry said—how they are all specks of stardust whose destinies and fates are controlled by something bigger—was true.
At some point, they ventured to the kitchen, where the De La Rues had set out sandwiches and salads, chips and a tangy raspberry dip. They fell easily into their rhythms, though guarded things left unsaid. It was a challenge to see who would give in first.
Now, it’s almost time for dinner, and he’s pacing at the foot of the bed in his faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt, his hands buried deep in his pockets. She paces too. They circle around each other like hungry wolves. They’re going to have to address their problems. They have no other choice.
“I wish you wouldn’t say that,” she says.
“And I wish you’d say something.”
Which is when Penny halts, and Leo halts too, and they stand face-to-face. Leo. Tall and strapping , they’d called him. A young Paul Newman. And God how she had loved Paul Newman. Would it matter if she just reached across and touched him? Ran her fingers up and down his smooth chest? She moves closer. She can see the birthmark on his shoulder; she can feel his body on top of hers, the two of them falling onto the bed, burying themselves in those tousled sheets.
He’s breathing hard. His breath is on her cheeks, and she watches his chest move up and down, but then she spots something on the floor, poking out of his travel bag.
Penny backs up. It’s a script. He’s reading a new script. She lunges for it, and he tries to stop her, but she’s quick. Another movie. With Claire Leonardo.
She shakes her head in disbelief. “You sit here professing your love and how you want to work through this, but you’ve agreed to do another movie with her?” She shoves the pages of Love Me, Again (seriously) in his face.
His hands act as a shield, and the pages float through the air, scattering on the floor, and she can’t believe she ever questioned who he was: the cheater or the man she loves. He grabs her shoulders, and she drops what’s left of the script. His eyes find hers. “Look at me.”
“I’d rather punch you.”
“Don’t do that.”
“It would be so much more satisfying.” She lunges at him, but he’s strong.
“You have it all wrong.” They’re stuck in a push-pull. “And you’re wrong about me and Claire.” And then there are those eyes. She wants to turn away, but he holds on. Blue. Brown. Why couldn’t he just have one color like most people?
He doesn’t say anything else. He just slowly slings one arm over her shoulder, and then the other. He takes his time, slowly pressing himself into her, slowly drawing her toward his chest. And she closes her eyes because she knows his body has never lied to her before. His heart beats wildly against hers, and she feels it. “The studio sent it. Once I saw it was with Claire, I told them it’s a hard no.”
She lets that sink in. Then he whispers in her ear. “What are you doing with someone else when you still feel this way about me?” She almost forgot about the little white lie she told him on their hike. Before she can pull away, he continues. “What are we doing when we both feel like this?”
She wriggles away from him, dropping on the bed. They’ve already wasted enough of the day. Someone has to be the grown-up.
“You know what hurt the most, Leo? Your hands. Seeing your hand in hers under that table. At our place.”
He swipes at his eye with the back of his hand.
“No theatrics, Leo. What were you thinking?” She feels herself crumbling. They’ve always been careful about the paparazzi.
He stands in front of her and lifts her chin. “I was in a really bad place, Pen. We were in a bad place. You left for Miami, and I thought being on set would make it easier, but it made it worse. There were three of me. The person I was with you. The role I was playing. And the person who came after we lost Ellie.”
The mention of her name slices the air. He runs a hand through his hair and finds her eyes. “You were in that bad place too. You know that. And Claire took my hand under that table. She comforted me. She listened. But that was it. She leaned in ... she kissed me ... I wasn’t expecting it ... and I turned, but it wasn’t fast enough. Then it all blew up. Someone saw a story, and they ran with it.”
She feels her eyes brim with tears. “I used to be the one you talked to. You used to get comfort from me.”
His eyes brim too, and she can’t look away. “It happened so fast, Pen. Every time we spoke, every time I looked at you, I saw Ellie. I saw how we failed. Then you moved ... and Claire. I didn’t want any of that.” He fixes his gaze on her. “I never wanted that.”
“You went back to set, and I relived that memory. Every single day. The girls were a mess. I was a mess.”
He bows his head. “I should have stayed. I should have told the studio my family needed me.”
Leo’s lips are a deep red. They remind her of the hours they spent making out in her bedroom after school. His mouth against hers, demanding, his tongue parting her lips to get inside. She wishes she could go back to that place, but she knows how dangerous it is to be swept away by those feelings.
She sucks in her breath and steadies herself, terrified to feel that way again. “It’s fine. George is a good guy. The guy I’m seeing. He’s good to me. Just sign the papers, and we can move on.”
“I don’t want to imagine you with someone else.”
George is a friend. They walk the dogs together. He doesn’t need to know that.
The rain pounds hard against the window. Claire flashes in her mind, Claire laughing beside Leo at Marie et Cie, their hands clasped under the table. The infamous kiss. Claire and Leo all over the internet looking a lot like Penny and Leo once looked. Happy. In love.
She reaches in her back pocket for pictures she and George recently took at the dog park. “I can make it a little more real for you. Let you see how it feels.”
His hand on hers forces her to stop.
“What did you expect me to do? Just never have sex again?” It’s a small lie, but he deserves it.
Their virginity had long been a gift they’d given each other. The act itself hadn’t been that monumental, a tangle of legs and arms knocking into each other, nothing like what you see in the movies. But it left them joined for life.
“I wish you’d understand ...” He stops when a faint knock comes at the door. It’s Rosalie, back from Boone, her hair and clothes soaked. She’s horrified to interrupt. “Renée said there might be some extra lanterns in your closet.”
Leo opens the door wider to let her through. “Whatever you need,” he says, waving an arm as she passes.
“It’s okay,” Penny says. “We don’t bite.”
“I don’t want to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering us. Promise. ” She emphasizes the word to prove a point, but something else catches her attention. Penny has been around enough movie sets and heavy makeup that masks secrets and scars, but the eyes always expose the truth. Penny’s taken with Rosalie’s eyes. She’s surprised she didn’t notice them before. They’re big, beautiful eyes. Clear and blue like the ocean.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your eyes. There just ... they’re really pretty.”
Rosalie smiles, unsure of what to say.
“Thank you. You just say thank you ,” Penny says.
Leo rummages through the closet for the lanterns.
“Hey, Rosalie,” Penny begins. “Have you ever seen Man on Fire ?”
Man on Fire was one of Leo’s most popular movies.
Rosalie’s eyes bounce between the two of them as though this is a trick question. Penny wonders how she’d react if one of their girls came home with dyed purple hair and lips painted inky black. She’d like to think she wouldn’t judge, that she’d accept her daughter unconditionally. She reassures herself she would. She absolutely would.
Rosalie tries to muster a response, but nothing comes out.
Poor thing, Penny thinks. “It’s okay. I’m just curious what you thought of the scene at the end.”
Rosalie hesitates. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see it. The movie. I don’t really go to the movies that much. I prefer books.”
“Wise woman,” Penny says.
“There’s just this one,” Leo interrupts, holding out a lantern.
Rosalie moves toward him.
“Can I say something, Rosie?” Leo asks.
“It’s Rosalie.”
“Rosalie. It gets easier. It does. This stuff with your mom.”
She stares at Leo, her face blank, and then she quickly grabs the lantern’s handle, scurrying out of the room.
“What was that about?” Leo asks.
“I was engaging the girl in conversation.”
“What was the purpose of mentioning the movie?”
“Engaging the girl in conversation.”
His eyes widen. “I know what you were trying to do back there. Bringing up Man on Fire . You’re not even subtle about it. A movie about a powerful CEO who had the world by the balls and lost everything when he got caught cheating with his cancer doctor. Lost the company. Lost the girl. Lost everything.” He pauses. “I’m not that guy, Pen.”
“You’re right. You may be worse.” She takes a seat across the room. “And I brought up that film because ... shit, Leo ... it’s not always about you. There were other players. Do you remember the character in the movie? Libby? Little Libby Sommers? Her world imploded when you—”
“For fuck’s sake, it wasn’t me, Penny. You can’t keep doing this. I’m not those characters.”
“Yet you play them so well.”
“That’s unfair.”
“Don’t talk to me about fair.” God, she misses the boy who was afraid to touch a fucking dead frog.
“You used to be so much sweeter.”
“Hollywood changes people, Leo. You used to be more tolerable.”
Outside, the rain intensifies, and she stares at the soaked property. The droplets gather on the window like tears. And she feels her own forming beneath her eyelids. She misses Leo. The younger Leo. The boy who climbed through her window so he could kiss her good night. The boy who always gave her the pizza crust because he knew it was her favorite part of the pie. It didn’t matter that it was his favorite part too. When Hollywood came knocking—he was so innocent back then—he told her he wanted to be a star, and she smiled. “I want to be a star with you.”
They’d had so many dreams, so many hopes for their future. And it had been so easy, and maybe that was the problem. Maybe it had come too easily for them. What had happened in the last year was proof that no one could have it all. Because for a time, she’d really believed they did.
He sits beside her, and they watch the splotches of rain.
“Remember Tina’s party?” he asks.
She crosses her arms, sinking inside the sweatshirt. She should get up and leave, but she doesn’t.
“We were so young. So stupid.”
Tina lived in Pinecrest. Her parents had gone away for the weekend, and she invited the entire grade to her house for a summer pool party. The rain was mighty that day. They didn’t care. One by one, they took turns jumping off Tina’s second-floor balcony and cannonballing into the pool. Penny remembers the euphoria of the jump, cold rain mixing with pool water, but she’d kill her girls if they did something so dangerous. “We were invincible back then,” he says.
“We were, weren’t we? That’s the thing about childhood. You believe you have the ability to fly.”
Lost in the memory, they let nostalgia set in.
When it gets to be too much, she stands up and paces. She does that when she’s nervous, when she overthinks things. “Look. I get this is strange. And for some reason, we’re both here. Let’s just skip the enemies-to-lovers trope. We can’t salvage this. We need to let each other go.”
“I can’t do that, Penny.”
She bows her head. “Yeah, why’s that?”
“Because I love you. And I think you still love me too.”