Chapter 11
Stella
I n the shower, I’m careful not to get my hair wet. It’s still perfect from yesterday’s dress rehearsal, which now seems like a hundred years ago in light of what’s happened since I arrived home last night. While I was in the shower I decided how we’re going to proceed from here.
With Max in the shower in his bathroom, I stand before the mirror in my dressing room and contemplate my reflection.
Not bad for seventy-five, all things considered.
Thanks to good genes and rigorous avoidance of sun, I’ve been luckier than most, including Vivian Stevens. She hasn’t aged well at all, and I haven’t heard a word about her in years. Not that I take pleasure from that.
Much.
The thought makes me laugh. I’m such a nasty bitch when it comes to her, but oh well. I’m ninety-nine percent harmless.
The one percent of me that still holds a grudge against her doesn’t get much attention in the grand scheme of things. Who has time to dwell on shit that happened more than fifty years ago when there’re so many more productive things to focus on, such as love and family and work that still satisfies me?
I might’ve never given her another thought if I hadn’t learned that Max, my Max, was once married to her.
Twenty-four hours later, that fact still boggles my mind.
I smooth moisturizer onto my face, followed by concealer and foundation that hides a world of sin. There’s nothing quite like the right foundation and powder. I’d rather think about trivial things like that than picture my husband in bed with that woman, even if that happened before he met me.
It’s so revolting to me.
Eyeliner is followed by shadow, mascara and lipstick.
A splash of Joy completes the package as I move on to the outfit I bought with tonight in mind. Slinky black slacks are topped with a snazzy gold top in honor of the occasion. I place the gold bangle Max bought me for an anniversary years ago on my wrist and put on earrings from another occasion, each item bringing with it memories of a happy marriage with a generous, loving husband. We promised each other there’d be no big gifts for this anniversary. We both have everything we need, and the time with our family is the only gift we wanted.
I grew up with a tightfisted, stingy father who never did a single nice thing for my hardworking mother. I vowed I’d never marry a man like him, and instead, I married his polar opposite, a man who cares more about my happiness than anything else in this world. I’ve never taken him or what we have for granted, especially as so many of my friends went through ugly, public divorces from men who treated them like shit.
The jewelry is yet another reminder of how incredibly blessed I’ve been to have him as my partner in life. I need to tell him that and forgive him for the secret he kept from me, but I have a condition.
I slip on black heels, pack the black Tory Burch clutch purse Aimee’s kids gave me for my birthday and sit to wait for him to come out of the shower.
When Max walks in with a towel around his waist, I take note of the body that’s still toned by regular exercise. Thick gray hair is combed back off an arresting face. That face was the first thing I loved about him. I’d never met a handsomer, kinder man, and that’s still true today.
“What?” he asks when he catches me looking at him.
“I’m thinking about your handsome face and how much I’ve loved it from the first time I ever saw you in Merv’s Green Room.”
The comment stops him short. “Is that right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“You look gorgeous, as always.”
“Thank you.” I stand and go to him, laying my hands flat on his chest, which is covered in gray hair that used to be dark. “I want to tell you something.”
“Okay…”
“I forgive you for not telling me the thing you didn’t tell me.”
He’s stunned to hear that. “Really?”
Looking up at him, I nod. “You were right that if you’d told me at the beginning I wouldn’t have given you a chance.”
“I can’t bear to think about spending the last fifty-two years with anyone but you.”
“Same.”
“Thank you for forgiving me.”
“I do have one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“Whatever you did with her, you’re going to do with me.”
He wasn’t expecting that.
Good. I wanted to take him by surprise.
“Um, we’re old, Stella. That’s a young person’s game.”
“We’re not too old for sex, as you well know. Everything still works, and I want to understand that side of you, the side that’s… dominant.”
I feel my cheeks get warm, which he’ll see, makeup or not.
“I’m not that guy anymore. I haven’t been that guy in so long, I’m not even sure I’d remember how.”
“You need to remember. We’re going to do this in Mexico.”
His eyes bug. “When we’re surrounded by our family and the others?”
“We’ll be in the guesthouse, far enough away from everyone else to do what we want.”
Flynn always puts us there when the family is at his place in Mexico, so the kids won’t drive us nuts with their early wakeups.
“Where do you propose I get the uh… supplies … needed for such a thing? I can’t very well order them online.”
He’s right about that. Since Flynn became a superstar, our public profiles are higher than ever, and our careers are also hotter than they’ve ever been. Which means the interest in us can be far more intense than we’d prefer.
“Ask your son how he manages that.”
Again, his face goes flat with shock. “You want me to ask Flynn how he…”
“Gets what he needs to play this game with his wife. Yes, I do.”
“I… I don’t think I can do that. I’d be mortified!”
I pat his face like he’s a little boy. “You’ll figure it out. I have faith in you. Now hurry up and get ready before we’re late to our own party.”
Max
Son of a bitch. She expects me to function after she laid that challenge on me? I’m electrified just thinking about it. The thought of actually doing it, however… I can’t let myself go there. Not now, when our family is expecting us for dinner.
The headline of the last ten minutes should be that she’s decided to forgive me, but as I dress in a dark suit with a white dress shirt and the gold tie Stella bought me to wear tonight, I’m thinking about dominance, not forgiveness.
I’m incredibly thankful for the forgiveness. This time last night, I thought we might be over, and that was among the worst feelings I’ve ever had.
Her forgiveness means everything to me.
But as we drive to Frankie’s Steak House, the site of our first date and every major celebration since, all I can think about is the condition of her forgiveness. While she seems remarkably relaxed and excited for the evening with the family, I’m wound tighter than a drum. How in the actual hell am I going to pull this off without causing another scandal?
We’re almost to Frankie’s when I get a text from Corbin. Still looking but making progress. Will update you tomorrow.
I respond to him at a red light. Thanks for the effort.
Anything for you, my friend.
I was hoping he’d put his hand right on the file we needed, but I suppose that was wishful thinking in light of how long ago the divorce happened. In today’s digital world, we’d have the document in minutes, which is a good and bad thing, depending on how you look at it.
I’d rather think about divorce records and the digital age than figure out how I’m going to get the things I need to dominate my wife.
Holy hell. That’s a sentence I never thought would cross my mind.
It’d be funny if she wasn’t dead serious about this. She can live with knowing I was once married to her enemy, but not that I had a kind of sex with Vivian that we’ve never had. As if that matters.
It does to her, so that’s what counts.
And what if all this is for nothing? What if I’m not even mentioned in Vivan’s book, and I’ve set off a bomb in my life for no good reason? That’s probably not likely. Knowing Vivian like I once did, it would give her great pleasure to name me as the ex-husband no one ever knew about, especially in light of how famous my son has become. Not to mention, she’d probably delight in sticking it to Stella.
It’s delusional to presume we’re not named in her memoir.
If she’s looking for the book to be a blockbuster, dragging the Godfreys through the mud would help make that happen. People are so hungry for celebrity gossip, as if we’re not just regular people putting our pants on one leg at a time like everyone else despite whatever success we may have enjoyed in the business that made us famous.
“Max.”
I’m startled out of my thoughts to realize I’ve settled into one hell of a brood as I hand over the Escalade with a tip for one of Frankie’s valets, who greets us like the regulars we are.
“Let it go for now. The kids are anxious enough as it is.”
She’s right, as usual.
I hold out a hand to her and feel tremendous relief when she curls her hand around mine to walk into the restaurant that holds such a special place in our hearts.
After being met inside by another member of Frankie’s staff, we’re directed to the back room, where so many of our most important events have transpired.
We turn heads as we make our way through the restaurant, but we keep our focus on the destination, so we won’t be stopped.
“Happy anniversary,” a woman calls out to us, which sets off a chorus of other good wishes from patrons.
We give them a wave and a smile but keep moving, aware of people taking photos and video that’ll appear online within minutes. Such is the world we live in. I miss the days when it took a week or two for pictures to go public. Now, it’s a matter of seconds, and no one bothers to make sure the photos are good ones before they go live, which means you never know what nightmare image might appear on TMZ.
We’d become mostly immune from celebrity stalking until our son became a star. It got even wilder for all of us after he and his producing partners swept the Oscars two years in a row, launching us into an all-new stratosphere that we’re still getting used to.
Speak of the devil. Our handsome son greets us at the door, wearing a dark suit and burgundy tie, looking relieved to see us holding hands as we come toward him. He hugs and kisses us both, holding on a little longer than usual in light of current events.
“Happy anniversary, you two.”
“Thank you, son,” Stella says.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his brow furrowed as his gaze darts between us.
“We’re working it out,” Stella says to his great relief.
“That’s the best news I’ve had all day.”
“Me, too,” I say with a smile for my wife.
“Welcome to bedlam.” Flynn steps back to admit us into the room, where our youngest grandchildren are chasing one another around the second table we now require. Scarlett, Cece and Rowan are playing with Ellie and Jasper’s kids, Harry and Matilda, as well as Marlowe and Sebastian’s three-year-old twins, Domenic and Delaney.
As our honorary fourth daughter, we’re delighted to have Marlowe and her family with us tonight. The rest of the crew will be at tomorrow’s party.
Our older grandchildren, Ian, India, Ivy, Connor, Garrett and Mason, are doing their best to keep the little ones out of trouble.
In the corner, a TV has been set up with the video of us on the Merv Griffin Show playing on repeat. The kids thought of everything.
“Holy moly,” I say to Flynn as I take in the chaos.
“All this from one marriage,” he says. “What a legacy.”
“It’s a loud legacy,” Stella says as she accepts hugs from Aimee, Annie and Ellie, as well as their husbands Trent, Hugh and Jasper, and then Natalie, Marlowe and Sebastian.
The grandkids rush us with hugs and kisses.
We wouldn’t have it any other way.
It takes the better part of twenty minutes to corral kids and get everyone seated for appetizers and drinks. With the little ones in mind, everything was ordered in advance so it would be ready for a speedy delivery. We wanted the kids with us tonight, no matter what it took.
Once we’re seated, a member of Frankie’s staff rolls the man himself into the room in the transport chair he now relies upon. He’ll be ninety at his next birthday, which is hard to believe.
Stella and I get up to greet one of our oldest friends with hugs and thanks for having us tonight.
“My pleasure, as always, to host my favorite family.”
We settle him at the table next to me. His caretaker knows I’ll tend to him and make sure his food is cut and that he has what he needs. We still play cards with a group of guys at least twice a month right in this room, and it’s time with old friends that I cherish.
Waiters come in with glasses of champagne on trays, which wasn’t part of our order.
Frankie raises his glass to us. “Happy anniversary, my dear friends. And cheers to the next fifty years.”
“Thank you, Frankie, for all the years of celebrations right here at our home away from home,” Stella says. “We love you.”
“Love you right back,” Frankie says.
“While we’ve got champagne,” Flynn says as he stands, making his sisters groan predictably.
“Why does he get to make the toast when he’s the baby?” Aimee asks.
“It’s because I’m the most eloquent,” he says, making a face at her as his sisters boo him.
The kids giggle at their parents’ antics. I catch little Rowan’s belly laugh, delighted as always by that guffaw of his.
Bennett, the newest addition to our family, is asleep on his mother’s shoulder.
“I introduced Natalie to the madness that is the Godfrey family right in this very room. Funny how that was nothing compared to the madness of today.”
“We’re not the ones who added four new kids in five minutes,” Annie says, receiving a high five from Aimee.
“No, you added the first round of kids and all their chaos,” Stella says.
“She’s got you there, Aunt Annie—and Mom,” our eldest grandchild, Ian, says with a smirk.
I can’t believe he’s seventeen now and due to graduate from high school in June. He’s planning to attend film school at USC in the fall. I love that he’s going into the family business, even as I hope it treats him kindly. The older he gets, the more he resembles his uncle Flynn, which he tells us is an asset with the ladies.
“As I was saying,” Flynn says with a glare for his sisters, “in the years since Natalie’s first evening with us, our family has grown and expanded to include her, Jasper and Sebastian, as well as Cece, Scarlett, Rowan, Benny, Henry, Matilda, Domenic and Delaney, and all of us, everyone in this room, are here tonight because of the extraordinary couple who exchanged vows fifty years ago today.
“The life you’ve led, the family you’ve created, the legacy of your love and commitment will live within us forever. Happy Golden Anniversary to Max and Stella, with all our love.”
“Damn him,” Ellie said as she wipes away tears.
“Right?” Annie blows her nose and dabs at her eyes. “He ought to go into show business.”
That sets the girls off laughing at their brother, one of their favorite pastimes.
It warms my heart to know that despite their nonstop mockery and play-bickering, they’d do anything for one another. Keeping it real with his sisters has been critical to Flynn successfully navigating superstardom. They haven’t let any of it go to his head.
Once the tomfoolery dies down, I stand with my glass in hand. “I’d like to propose a toast to my bride, the love of my life, the remarkable, beautiful, talented Stella Flynn.”
The family applauds raucously for the woman who holds us all together.
“As you all know, it’s been an interesting couple of days for us, but even when things are unsettled or uncertain, there’s no one I’d rather be working it out with than you, Stel. You’re my everything. You’re everything to all of us. I love you. Now and forever. To Stella!”
She stands to kiss me, leading to more applause and tears from our four children, who have to be beyond relieved to see our loving affection after the scare we put them—and ourselves—through.
“Thank you for your beautiful words and fifty years of sweet love, Max. You give me all the credit, but none of this happens without the best husband, father and grandfather any of us ever could’ve wished for. We’ve been blessed with a life of joy, love and purpose and with children, grandchildren and friends who’ve made our lives complete. We love you all so very much.”
I embrace my wife, thankful for her love, for fifty-two years together and for everything still to come, even if the apprehension remains over whether I can keep up my end of our deal.