Chapter 21
Marlowe
G etting anything done with two three-year-olds underfoot is close to impossible. I feel like they undo things as fast as I do them, but with more than forty of our closest friends due to our house in a couple of hours, it’s time for drastic measures.
“Seb!”
He pokes his head out of the guest bathroom he’s been cleaning. “Yes, dear?”
“I need help.”
“I’m helping.”
I point to the whirling dervishes as they chase each other around the living room, and around me, nearly knocking me over with their combined energy.
“Ah,” he says, dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “I see the problem.”
“ Help! ”
“Dad to the rescue.” He pulls off the rubber gloves he wears to clean—which I ridicule him for endlessly—and assesses the situation in the living room that now has to be straightened for the third time today. He’s wearing a tank-style T-shirt that puts his ridiculously impressive muscles and sleeve tattoos on full display. As usual, I’m distracted by the sight of my sexy man.
I look up at him. “We’re never going to be ready in time.”
“Who cares? It’s just the family. They don’t expect us to be perfect.”
“Addie’s house is always immaculate when she has us over. So are Natalie’s and Aileen’s.”
“Do you think they’re going to come in here and think, ‘Marlowe is a mess’?”
“No, but?—”
He kisses me. “No buts. It’ll all be fine. The whole point of this occasion is for the kids to turn the place upside down. So here’s a big idea. Why don’t we clean after the party rather than before?”
“Are you insane?”
The kids have taken their screaming chase down the hallway to their bedrooms, giving us a moment’s reprieve before they return.
“It’s a fool’s errand to clean up before a bunch of young kids come to open presents and cause chaos.”
If I tell him he’s right, I’ll never get him to clean before a party again.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
I love the way his eyes get even darker when something makes him laugh. “You do not know what I’m thinking.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Okay, hotshot. Lay it on me.”
He steps closer, wraps his arms around me and kisses me. “You think if you admit I’m right and call off the cleaning crew that you’ll never get me to clean again before a gathering.”
I glare at him.
His howl of laughter is super annoying. “You’re so cute when you’re pissed.”
“I must be freaking adorable right now, then.”
He kisses me again. “You’re freaking adorable all the time, but especially when you get mad at how right I am.”
I try to squirm free of his embrace, but he’s not having it. “Don’t go. The hooligans have left the room. We have one whole minute to ourselves.”
“While they dismantle the drywall or some such thing.”
“Eh, drywall can be fixed.”
“What if they eat it?”
“Good point.” He gives me another kiss and releases me. “Put down the mop. It’s pointless, and no one cares. I’ll go see what your children are doing.”
“If they’re eating the drywall, they’re your children.”
“So noted,” he calls over his shoulder.
Because I can’t resist the need, I go around the living room and return pillows to the sofa and toys to bins while I listen to Sebastian talking to our babies with the love, patience and humor that make him the far better parent—in my opinion, anyway. I get the love and humor part right most of the time but tend to fall apart in the patience department.
That’s what I get for waiting until my late thirties to have children—and then getting two for the price of one. I’m still mad at Sebastian for knocking me up with twins. They are, however, the greatest joy in our lives, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything, not even a moment or two of quiet every now and then.
Seb says we can sleep in when they’re surly teenagers who ignore us. Is it wrong of me to look forward to that stage a teeny, tiny bit? Toddlerhood is insane , especially times two.
He comes back to the living room with a kid tucked under each arm, squealing with laughter the way they always do with him. He’s a much more natural parent than I am, which he says isn’t true. But it is. I get overwhelmed a lot faster than he does, whereas they’re never too much for him.
We each got a mini-me. Delaney is me all over again, with strawberry-blonde hair and blue eyes, while Domenic is his daddy’s doppelg?nger, with dark hair and eyes.
He swings them around. “Mommy cleaned up the living room again . It has to stay this way until our friends come, or Domenic and Delaney will have to go to time-out. Got me?”
“Yes,” they say, laughing.
“What did I just say?”
Delaney answers for both of them, as usual. “Don’t mess up the living room. Again.”
Her baby voice is beginning to mature a bit, which makes me ache for the passage of time that I just said I couldn’t wait for. My friends tell me that’s motherhood for you. While you yearn for things to get easier, you hate to see the baby years come to an end.
“Is it safe for me to put you down?” Seb asks them.
“No!” They shriek with laughter when he spins them around.
“How about now?”
“No!”
More spinning.
“If they puke, I’ll kill you.”
“Mommy gonna get you, Daddy,” Dom says.
“We better calm down, then.” He puts them down, laughing at the way they wobble with dizziness and then sends them off to play in their rooms.
“We make a mess in there,” Delaney says as she leads the charge.
Sebastian rubs his hands together. “I think we’ve reached an understanding.”
I crook my finger to bring him over to me.
“You beckoned?”
I go up on tiptoes to kiss him. “You’re great with them, and I love you.”
“You’re great with them, too, and I love you.”
“You’re better.”
He shakes his head. “We bring different skills to the table that make us an awesome team.”
“We’re a damned good team.”
“You know it. No one else I’d rather team up with than you, babe.”
“Even when I’m grumpy?”
He wraps me up in his warm embrace, and I rest my head against his chest. “Especially then.”
With the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner of the big room, I’m feeling peaceful, centered and excited to celebrate my favorite holiday with my favorite people.
Until a loud crash sounds from the other end of the hallway.
“What the hell was that?”
“Daddy’s on it. Nothing to see here.”
As I watch him go, all I can do is laugh at the madness that is my life.
Max
The party at Marlowe’s home in Brentwood is a three-ring circus of screaming kids, stressed-out parents and enough love and laughter that we barely notice the commotion. Stella and I have learned to premedicate ahead of these events with Advil and Bloody Marys.
She’s seated across the room with Natalie, Ellie, Aimee, Annie, Addie, Leah, Aileen and Marlowe, fawning over Holt and Bennett. As the newest babies in the crew, they’re getting most of the attention from the moms, all of whom say they’re done having babies. Stella and I have a bet that there’ll be at least one more for the Burkes and possibly another for Kris and Aileen.
Addie is weepy as she rocks Holt. “We could have one more , couldn’t we?” she asks no one in particular.
“I heard that!” Hayden calls from the corner where the guys have gathered. “And the answer is no ! I’ll end up with a fifth daughter to make me her bitch, and I’m already fully bitched by the four we have.”
“Hayden!” Jan says. “Language.”
“Are you still fighting that battle, Jan?” Flynn asks, laughing. “I hate to tell you it might be a lost cause.”
“We have to try for the sake of the children,” Jan replies.
Ever since little Bella Roth’s first word was fuck , Addie and Jan have been on a mission to clean up Hayden’s language. So far, it’s not going so well, which cracks me up. Not that I’d tell the ladies that.
Bella saying fuck as her first word is one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard. Most of the others agree with me, but we keep that to ourselves. Addie was extremely un amused by the whole thing.
When “Santa,” memorably played each year by Simon York, arrives to deliver a massive pile of presents, the kids go nuts, the wrapping paper flies through the air, and new toys are assembled by devoted parents with the help of my eldest grandchildren, who are great with the little ones.
Marlowe serves a delicious meal of spaghetti, meatballs, chicken parm, eggplant parm, garlic bread and salad, along with chicken tenders and mac ’n’ cheese for the kids who won’t eat anything with tomatoes. Dessert is a towering platter of Christmas cupcakes and another full of cookies that Natalie made with the “help” of Cece and Scarlett.
This event has become one of my favorite annual traditions, but even as I enjoy the holiday revelry, I’m anxious to get my hands on Vivian’s book to see for myself what she wrote about me. Flynn says it’s no big deal, and I believe him, but until I read the words, I can’t be certain how I’ll feel about them.
Emmett brings me a glass of whiskey. “Figured you might need this by now.”
“Stella and I have learned to pregame, but I won’t say no to reinforcements.”
“Pregaming is a smart strategy in this crowd.”
“It’s all about the survival.”
“Flynn told me he’s seen the book, and the bombshell isn’t as bad as it could be.”
“Yes.”
“You can demand that the NDA be enforced if that’s what you want to do. You have every right to protect your privacy.”
“Thank you for the reminder. I’ll let you know later after I read it.”
“Whatever you need. I’m here.”
“That means a lot to me—and to Stella. We appreciate you.”
“We love you guys. We all do. There’s nothing any of us wouldn’t do for you after you’ve given many of us the first real family we’ve ever had.”
“You guys have created this incredible family. We can’t take any credit for that.”
“Max… Come on. You and Stella have shown us how it’s done. I know I’m not the only one who feels that way.”
I’m ridiculously moved by his heartfelt words. “It’s very kind of you to say so.”
“Just stating the truth.” He squeezes my shoulder and then goes to check on his wife and son.
“Everything okay?” Flynn asks when he joins me.
“Everything’s great. Who could have a problem in the world surrounded by all these happy kids?”
“I’m relieved after seeing Vivian. I’m sure you must be, too, to know it’s not a smear job.”
“I am.”
“She said she spent the rest of her life looking for another guy as good as you and never found one.”
“That was very surprising to me when you told us that earlier. I never would’ve guessed she felt that way.”
“Sometimes you don’t realize what you have until it’s gone.”
“I suppose so. I’m sorry her life has been difficult. I wouldn’t wish the loss of a child on anyone.”
“It’s terribly sad.”
“Indeed.” I glance at him, noting a little more silver in his dark hair these days. I can’t believe my “baby” will be forty in a couple of days. “I thought about what you said about how we won the game of life, and it’s true. Not that I ever thought of it as a competition, but if it was… Well, we’ve had it all, and Vivian has had it rough. Some of that is her own fault, but a lot of it wasn’t.”
“I can’t say for certain, but I think you and Mom would both like who she is today.”
“Maybe so.”
“I put the book under the driver’s seat in your car. Will you let me know as soon as you’ve had a chance to read it? I don’t want to leave her hanging indefinitely.”
“She really got to you, didn’t she?”
“Yeah, I guess. I mean… She’s the definition of a faded star. Add to it all the losses, divorces and the accompanying financial ruin… It was hard to see.”
“I love your big heart, son.”
“It came right from you.”
I put an arm around him and give him a squeeze.
“I’d better help Natalie round up the troops and get them home to bed. We’ve got a big couple of weeks ahead.”
“I can’t wait for every minute of it.”
“Same. Been looking forward to it for months. I’m glad you and Mom seem to have worked things out in time for the holidays and the trip.”
“We’re getting there.” I can’t even think of what she’s asked of me without feeling like I might die of mortification, but I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right with my love, even if it means embarrassing the hell out of both of us.
Stella
Max drives us home a little after eight. With so many young kids, the parties start and end early these days, which is fine with us.
We’re both tense now that the hour is upon us in which we’ll get to read Vivian’s book. It’s a bit unnerving to think about being “talked about” in another celebrity’s memoir, especially someone with whom you have a less-than-positive history. Even knowing Flynn’s take on it, neither of us will rest easy until we read it ourselves.
“That was a fun time, as always,” he says.
“My favorite holiday party, even if it’s a lot of work ahead of time.”
The “kids” have told us we don’t have to buy for all the children, but we wouldn’t think of not having something for them at Christmas and on their birthdays. Each of them has become like an extra grandchild to us, and we love them dearly.
“Thank you for handling that for us,” he says.
“It’s better for everyone if you don’t do it.”
“Haha, very true.”
Max hates to shop. One of the best things that ever happened to him was a son-in-law in the jewelry business. Neither of us needs a thing, so some years, we don’t even bother with gifts. This is one of those years, thank goodness.
“Are you thinking about the book?” I ask when we get close to home.
“Hard to think about anything else.”
“I’m trying to focus on what Flynn said, but…”
“Yeah, same.”
“Let’s get it over with,” I tell him when we arrive at home. “I’ll get the nightcaps.”
“Sounds good.” He retrieves the book from under his seat and brings it inside.
“Let me see it.” I take a close look at the image on the cover. Just yesterday, the sight of her flawless face would’ve infuriated me. Now I feel nothing when I look at the photo on the jacket.
At some point in the last few days, Vivian Stevens has lost the power to upset me, which is an interesting realization. I pour us each a drink and bring them with me to our sitting room, where we spend most of our time together.
“You want to go first?” he asks.
“Read it to me.”
He props reading glasses on his nose, takes a sip of whiskey and begins to read.
I close my eyes and listen intently. If Flynn hadn’t read it before us, my stomach would be knotted in dread. I’m thankful for his advance take on it and to know there’s nothing too terrible coming.
“ I was young and foolish enough to believe that another Max Godfrey would come along one day, but that never happened. Instead, there was a series of poor substitutes, while Max went on to have a long and successful marriage with Stella Flynn, a woman who rightfully despises me.”
I certainly didn’t expect her to say that.
“My disrespect for Stella is something I regret to this day. She was always a classy person, the kind who took the high road, except for when someone walked onto her set and made off with her man.
“In front of the entire cast and crew, she called me a whore.
“Her words cut me to the quick. Not because I didn’t deserve them, but because I did.”
I’m stunned by these and the other things she says about me and Max and how she pulls no punches about her own behavior.
“A life well lived doesn’t come without its share of regrets. I’ve gotten to watch the woman I once wrongly considered an enemy be loved by the man I let get away. Only in Hollywood!”
Max closes the book. “That’s all of it about us.”