Chapter 6
LAINA
Morning came sooner than I wanted. After a restless night spent tossing and turning, the last thing I wanted to do was get out of bed. So I didn’t for a while. I just lay there and stared up at the ceiling, hoping the heaviness in my chest might ease if I didn’t move.
I finally gave up about half an hour later and got up, pulled a sweater over my pajamas, shoved my feet into my shoes, and walked to the lobby with my purse flung over my shoulder.
A young man was behind the counter, and he looked up with a polite smile. “Good morning. Everything okay with your room, ma'am?”
“Yes, thank you. But I need to extend my stay.”
“Which room are you in?”
“Four.”
He tapped at the keyboard. “How many additional nights?”
“Through Friday for now, please.”
“No problem. Your bungalow is available, so we won’t need to move you.” He ran my card again. “Can I have your key? I need to reprogram it for the extra days.”
“Sure.” I slid it across the counter toward him.
He tapped the card against the reader before handing it back to me. “You’re all set.”
“Thank you.”
A coffee and tea station was set up on a long table across from the counter. I poured myself a cup and added oat milk and raw sugar before taking a sip. The smell hit me harder than it should have.
Every morning for the past few years, I’d ground the beans for Bennett’s espresso while the house was still quiet. The routine had been automatic, and I felt the absence of more than I expected under the circumstances.
Not wanting to cry in front of anyone, I carried the cup back along the path to the bungalow. As soon as I stepped inside, my phone started ringing.
Bennett’s name flashed across the screen.
I stared at it through two rings. Then three. My thumb hovered over the green button, but part of me wanted to let him go to voicemail like I had all night long.
Instead, I answered, “What?”
There was a short silence on the other end, as if he hadn’t actually expected me to pick up. “Laina. Thank fuck you finally answered. I’ve been—”
“Don’t.”
He went quiet on the other end of the line, and the tension between us was thick, even with so many miles between us.
I set the coffee on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. My hand clutched the blanket. “I need you to answer something, and I need you not to talk over me.”
“Okay.”
“The rule about not watching the show at home.” I tried my hardest to keep the pain from bleeding into my voice. “Was it because you didn’t want me to see what you were doing?”
“Laina, it wasn’t—”
“Stop.” I pressed my fingers against my forehead. “I’m not asking for a full explanation. I just need to know if you deliberately kept me from watching so I wouldn’t notice how much I inspired Sally.”
He heaved a deep sigh. “I never thought of it like that.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“I told myself that I wanted our house to be separate from the industry.” He sighed again. “But maybe subconsciously, there was more to the decision.”
“More?” I huffed. “From where I’m sitting, it looks like you built a boundary that protected your creative process and left me completely exposed.”
“Baby, I swear. I was just trying to protect us.”
“No. You were protecting the work.” My throat felt tight. “You used my quirks for inspiration, and I didn’t even get the courtesy of knowing it was happening. I was completely in the dark until your acceptance speech, when the rest of the world found out right along with me.”
“If I’d known what would happen last night, I never would’ve worded it that way. All I wanted to do was thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
His explanation was what I expected, but it didn’t help at all. I stood and paced next to the bed, unable to stay still. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to realize the person who was supposed to know me best turned me into content?”
“Laina—”
“I’m not finished,” I snapped. “The worst part is I can’t even tell if you did this on purpose or if you just never thought about me at all while you were doing it.”
“I thought about you every single day,” he swore in a rough voice. “That’s the truth. I just didn’t connect the dots the way I should have. In my head, Sally was a character with exaggerated versions of habits I loved. I never stood back and looked at it from your point of view.”
“I don’t understand that. At all.” I stopped pacing. “Everything I do is with you and Lucy in mind. I would never make you fodder for public consumption like this.”
“I’m sorry, baby. I see it from your perspective now.”
“Too late.”
“Laina, please,” he pleaded. “I know the speech was a disaster. I understand why the rule looks bad in hindsight. But I need you to believe I wasn’t sitting in writers’ rooms laughing about you.
I was writing a character who felt real because you are real to me.
That’s the only reason any of it worked. ”
Pinching the bridge of my nose between my index finger and thumb. I shook my head. “You keep telling me what you intended, while I’m trying to tell you what it did. Those are not the same thing.”
“I know they’re not.”
“Do you?” My voice cracked despite my best effort.
“Because every time you open your mouth, you’re still defending the version of events where you’re just a little tone-deaf.
Not the one where I feel stripped bare in front of the world.
Where strangers are making jokes about the face I made when I realized my husband had been using me as material for years. ”
He was quiet for a moment before murmuring, “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I appreciated that he finally let his apology stand on its own without making more excuses. But it felt like he was sorry for the outcome. I needed him to understand the wound itself, and he wasn’t there yet.
I sat back down on the bed and pressed the heel of my hand against one eye. “I don’t think you actually get it. And until you do, there’s nothing else to talk about.”
“Don’t hang up,” he begged. “Please tell me where you are. Let me come see you so we can hash this out face-to-face.”
“No.”
“Laina—”
“I said no.” I stood again, the phone pressed hard to my ear.
“You don’t get to show up and try to fix this with proximity.
Not when I’m still trying to figure out how much of our private life was actually just between us.
This isn’t something a single apology fixes.
It isn’t even something a good explanation fixes. ”
“I’m trying—”
“The bottom line is that I don’t know how to look at you the same way right now.
” My free hand clenched into a fist at my side.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see that stage. I feel the pitying looks. I hear Lucy telling me you were right. And underneath all of it is the same question I can’t get rid of—how long would you have kept me in the dark if you hadn’t won? ”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he rasped. “And Lucy asked me to tell you she’s sorry, too.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead. “Tell her I heard her.”
“She meant it, Laina.”
“I’m sure she did.” My voice softened slightly, even through the exhaustion. “I’m not ready to talk to her yet either. But I appreciate the apology.”
“That’s fair,” he conceded.
I drew a slow breath. “I need time right now. Not a conversation where you keep explaining your intentions while I’m still reeling.”
“How much?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”
“Laina—”
“I’m hanging up now.” My voice stayed steady even though my hands were shaking. “Please give me the space I need.”
I ended the call before he could reply, and squeezed my eyes shut in the silence of my bungalow.