Chapter 13 Monika
MONIKA
The Egyptian cotton sheets refuse to cooperate. I tug the fitted corner over the mattress for the third time, my fingers fumbling with the elastic edge. My hands won’t stop shaking, and I have to start over, smoothing the wrinkles that keep appearing no matter how hard I try to avoid them.
When I finally get all four corners secured, I sit on the edge of the king-sized bed that could easily fit three people, maybe four if you don’t mind being cozy. But it’s only me, and the thought of waking up here alone tomorrow on Christmas morning makes my chest ache.
My phone sits on the nightstand, Griffin’s text from this morning still on the screen.
Need any help with the furniture? Happy to swing by.
I stared at those two sentences for ten minutes, typing and deleting responses.
Yes, please. I already miss you.
Delete.
I’m sorry about last night. Can we talk?
Delete.
I was stupid and scared.
Delete.
What I’d finally sent:
I’ve got it handled. Thank you.
The truth is, I don’t have anything handled. My pulse jumps every time I think about him, and let’s not talk about the pit in my stomach that opened the moment I walked out of his cabin last night.
We didn’t even have a real fight. There was no dramatic scene with accusations thrown or doors slammed.
Well, except when he’d slammed the door on the paparazzi, his body a wall between me and the cameras.
We just ended, like the last song on a record fading out, which feels worse than if we’d screamed at each other.
I stand and walk to the window, taking in the view that Grammy dreamed about for so many years.
The rocks below the house cast long shadows across the beach where we used to walk.
I did what I set out to do to honor her memory.
I proved that people like us could have beautiful things and created a sanctuary away from the chaos of my life.
The main floor turned out exactly as I’d imagined it. Daniel is facing federal charges, and while a good chunk of my money will be tied up in legal proceedings, at least there’s justice. I got everything I thought I wanted.
So why does it all feel so empty?
I sink into the reading chair that’s positioned perfectly to enjoy the view. I can picture myself here with coffee and a book, reading for pleasure instead of studying scripts.
But sitting here now, I feel nothing. The chair is comfortable. The view is spectacular. And I’m miserable.
It’s just stuff in a beautiful box.
My phone buzzes with an incoming FaceTime call, and Riva’s face fills the screen when I answer. Her cheeks are pink, and she’s wearing a knit hat topped with an adorable fuzzy pom-pom.
“Mom, show me the finished house. Is it amazing?”
I flip the camera and give her a slow tour of the bedroom, then walk out to the living room with its wall of windows overlooking the Pacific. “The view is even better now that there’s furniture in the room.”
“Awesome. When are you going to do my room?”
“After the new year. You can pick out colors and fabrics next week in LA.” I turn the camera back to face me, settling onto the new sofa. “Are you having fun in the mountains?”
“Dad decided we’d learn to snowboard together, but he kept doing this weird thing with his arms.” She demonstrates some awkward movement. “We both wiped out like twenty times, but it was hilarious.”
I laugh despite the ache in my chest. “That sounds like your dad.”
“Then Sadie made hot chocolate with those fancy marshmallows you sent. She says hi, by the way.” Riva adjusts her hat, her expression shifting from playful to serious. “Can we spend New Year’s at your Grammy’s house instead of in California?”
My stomach twists. “I’m not sure about that, sweetie. I have a meeting about a new movie on the second, and—”
“Mom.” Her voice carries that particular teenage tone that suggests I’m being deliberately obtuse.
“Riva.”
She leans closer to the camera. “I want to meet your new friend Griffin.”
I roll my eyes.
“And you told me the town is cute. I also want to meet Edgar.”
“That seagull is a menace,” I say with a laugh.
“So I can come?”
My throat tightens. “It’s complicated, Rivs.”
“Is it?” She doesn’t wait for me to answer.
“You taught me that we always have choices, even when it feels like we don’t.
Remember when you were filming in Prague and missed my school play?
You felt terrible, but you said sometimes we have to choose between two things we want, and that’s okay as long as we’re honest about what we’re choosing. ”
I close my eyes, remembering that conversation, and wanting to slap myself for choosing work over my daughter. I’d told myself I was making the right choice for my career and our future. But the truth was I’d been scared to say no to the director, scared to put my personal life first.
“This is different,” I say weakly.
“I don’t think so. You’re picking what’s safe instead of what you really want.”
Perfect. My thirteen-year-old daughter has called me out more effectively than a therapist ever managed.
“When did you get so wise?” My voice is thick with unshed tears.
“I learned from my mom.” Her smile softens. “She’s pretty smart.”
“I love you, Rivs,” I whisper. “I’ll think about it, okay?”
After we hang up, I sit in the silence. The house might have turned out perfectly, but without people to share it with, it feels empty.
A space I see so much of Griffin in, even without him here.
While I was busy protecting myself, he was busy showing me he cared in a hundred small ways I was too afraid to admit meant something. Everything, if I’m being honest.
Something shifts in my chest, like a locked door suddenly swinging open. Riva’s right. I do have choices. I let myself believe that my life was something that happened to me—Daniel’s betrayal, the paparazzi, the demands of my career.
But I chose to walk away from Griffin last night, and I’m the one who has the choice to take on a role that will keep me away from home for months on end. I’m this close to choosing safety over happiness.
I think about the call I need to make to my agent.
The franchise Harrison wants me for—three films guaranteed, possibly more.
It would mean a minimum of eighteen months away.
Morocco for the first one, then New Zealand, then who knows where.
It’s the kind of opportunity that could make people forget about the disaster with Daniel.
It would also mean missing more of Riva’s teenage years. She spends the school year in Colorado now, but I still try to make it to plays and parent-teacher conferences, and fly her out whenever she has a break.
It would mean giving up any chance of a life in Wild Rose Point, this town that’s welcomed me like I belong.
And I’d lose Griffin before I even had the courage to fight for him.
I’d get eight figures over the course of the trilogy, but I have money. What I don’t have is time. Time with my daughter. Time to figure out who I am when I’m not performing. Time to build something real with a man who sees past the celebrity to the woman I’d forgotten how to be.
Grammy’s voice echoes in my memory. Houses like that aren’t for people like us.
But she was wrong. Not about the houses but what we’re allowed to want. Beautiful things—real, meaningful, special things—are for people brave enough to fight for them.
And I’m finally ready to fight for the man who taught me that love isn’t about performing or being perfect. It’s about showing up, getting your hands dirty, and choosing each other even when it’s hard.
I don’t know if Griffin will forgive me for choosing fear over love. Or if we can make this work with my complicated life and his need for a quieter one. But I have to try.
Because the only thing scarier than risking my heart is spending the rest of my life wondering what might have been.