Chapter 16 Penny
Chapter 16
Penny
Penny rolls over in bed, the sound of footsteps rousing her from a deep sleep. Surveying the room, Lavande , she knows she shouldn’t have come. Every nerve, every instinct in her body screams at her to leave, to go home, but she wipes her eyes of sleep and reminds herself of promises. Vows. She’s nothing like him.
She’ll admit, dinner was nice. More than nice. She enjoyed being at the table, ignoring Leo, meeting new, interesting people. She’s traveled the world, but no place has felt as comfortable or grounding as here. Renée and Jean-Paul hold their history, and they are gracious hosts. When you step through the doors, a calm takes over; you know you are about to get spoiled.
Penny has always enjoyed their time at the De La Rues’. Even in the early years, when Leo was considered “famous,” they never imagined going elsewhere. Leo prided himself on living as normal a life as possible. Sure, the guests they’d met at the inn were always surprised to find America’s heartthrob in their midst, but Vis Ta Vie had a reputation of being discreet. If you were looking for a pretentious playground for gossip, the inn was not it. Vis Ta Vie was about grounding yourself, quieting the noise and chatter.
Most people shed their pretenses at the inn, though that guy Adam didn’t get the memo. What a sleazy name-dropper. She detests guys like him: wealthy and entitled, needing to be the center of any conversation. And then he carried on about the movie Leo made with Dwayne Johnson as if he’d starred in it. Didn’t even notice how Leo handed him the mic. Because that was Leo. His star might be bright, but he prefers a steady dimness away from the shine.
As she watched Adam describe the infamous speed chase, arms in the air, hands waving, the annoyance crept in. The scene showed off Leo’s daring athleticism. Refusing the stunt double, he’d charged across the screen, making audiences gasp. Listening to Adam drone on irritated her. Leo could have been killed, and it was a source of contention between them. She hated the story.
That Cassandra woman was interesting, but she kept inching closer and closer to Leo as the night progressed. The neckline of her top crept lower and lower, and the whole table had a clear view of her pumped-up breasts. The daughter looked close to blowing a gasket.
After dinner, Penny slinked out the back door to the firepit, where they used to roast marshmallows and sing Garth Brooks. Leo brought her jean jacket out for her. She hadn’t wanted to accept any of his kindnesses, but she took the jacket because she was cold, and he took that as a sign she’d accept more, so he sat in the empty seat beside her.
Leo patted his stomach, going on and on about the little grilled cheese sandwiches, superficial conversation to avoid falling into the abyss. She nodded. “Croque monsieur.” He used to love when she talked to him in French. A chilly wind blew through the air, and she pulled the jacket tighter. If she looked closely at the bench crafted from a fallen tree, she’d find their initials carved in the wood.
“Tell me about the girls,” he said.
That’s how he’d begun every phone call from set. She’d replay their daughters’ girl drama, the secret crushes that weren’t so secret, the goings-on at their schools. They’d laugh, and then he’d ask about her, and she’d tell him she missed him, to hurry home. Now they live on opposite coasts, embroiled in tabloid fodder. The drama and crushes pale next to their goddaughter slipping under the raft that August day. Then the second act with Claire, the coup de grace.
She tried to update him, but what could she say? Kayla, their oldest at seventeen, was angry and bitter. For the last year, she refused to discuss college applications because of her broken-hearted cynicism. “College is a waste of time when we’re all just going to die.” And then the photo of Leo with Claire went public, and Penny tried to convince Kayla it was a scene from one of Leo’s movies, but Kayla was no idiot. And it didn’t stop the bullies from teasing her at school.
“She refuses to talk to me,” he says.
Duh, you idiot. But Penny doesn’t say it out loud. “She needs time.” She doesn’t know why it’s her responsibility to make him feel better.
“It’s been weeks.”
It felt like yesterday to her. Raw and burning.
“Amelia’s back with Dr. Cammerota.” Their fifteen-year-old had just left therapy only to go back in. He kicks the dirt with his loafer. Good. Let him think about what he’s done.
“There’s a boy in the picture, I think. She’s on her phone twenty-four seven, holding it like she’s in love.”
They used to be like that.
“And Cody?” Cody was their baby, and at thirteen, she still seemed like one.
“You know Cody. She’s hoping for a miracle.” She was the one who had circled their anniversary on the family calendar in bright red. Mom and Dad’s twenty-fifth.
Then he asked about her. And there it sat, that thing between them that reared its ugly head no matter how hard they tried to fight it. After that August day in Palm Springs, there was no going back to normal. They managed to keep the incident out of the papers, but then Leo, with the producers breathing down his neck, had to return to work. They couldn’t comfort themselves, let alone each other, and the kids were scared and confused. Grief and regret swept in like a desert breeze, and Penny had to prioritize, making the decision to move the girls to Miami and enroll them in school. She told him they needed to be closer to her mother, and by the time the bell rang that first day, they were living separate lives.
Claire was the freight train they didn’t see coming. And that’s when the images appeared in Penny’s mind. Images of Leo with Claire. And then Ellie. Little Ellie on the ground. Because everything is mingled together. Her tiny limbs, the big brown eyes. All the grief that followed. The gap widened, their relationship weak and untenable, and with one swift kick, Claire pushed them over the edge.
It was so easy to hate Leo. Blame him for all of it.
She pulled the jacket tighter and finally answered his question. “I’m great.”
She told herself it wasn’t their fault when the nightmares woke her from sleep, when she lay drenched in her sweat. And she repeated it when the girls had sleepovers or birthday parties that involved pools or oceans or bays, which was basically all of Miami. Her grip on her daughters had tightened. It was easier for Leo to block it out, to step on set and assume another role, but she couldn’t. She lived the nightmare daily.
The silence between them closed in against the backdrop of insects croaking and buzzing.
“Maybe it’s time we talked about it.”
She didn’t ask him to clarify if he meant Ellie or Claire. It’s all so draining. She’s tired of feeling this way.
“How is Claire?” It was a jab, and she didn’t care.
“I’m not with Claire.”
“The whole world saw you. With Claire.”
“That’s not really fair, Penny. She and I have done six movies together.”
They were like Clooney and Roberts, Lawrence and Cooper: audiences had watched them in dozens of scenes in cities across the globe. It was one thing to watch your husband have sex on a movie screen with America’s most recognizable actress, but the kiss Penny referred to was different. A few weeks ago, he and Claire were caught clasping hands under the table at their café. Claire’s lips on Leo’s, her other hand draped along his neck.
“If you had let me explain ... if you’d given me a chance.”
“I don’t recall much talking since Palm Springs, Leo. And what does it matter anymore?”
He raked a hand through his hair, his shoulders hunched. “It’s been really hard, Penny.”
His voice was thick. Like the way it sounded when he first told her he loved her. When he’d whispered those words in her ear and her whole body flamed. She knew how hard it had been.
He hesitated. “I don’t know how to do this without you. I’m not a cheater. That’s not who I am.”
No, he wasn’t. He was nothing like the others. But she had seen the picture with her own eyes. And she had promised she’d never put herself in a position to feel that way again. She had filed the papers; it was time to end the charade. The cicadas chattered, and the fireflies sailed through the air like tiny fairies. The wine made her woozy.
“Claire is the one who kissed me. She corroborated my story. I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”
“Look at you playing the lawyer.”
“Nothing happened,” he said more insistently. “She made a public statement.”
That little blip on E! News? Was that what he was talking about? “Claire’s one of the world’s most talented actresses,” she argued. “She makes a living telling lies.”
He taps his chest. “I’ve never lied to you. We’ve always trusted each other.”
Until that summer day.
She hated how she felt simultaneously hot and cold, remembering the sweat that dripped down her face as they tried to revive their goddaughter, how the sun blazed on their backs, stinging more than their skin. She wouldn’t let him chip away at the fortress she’d built. He’d betrayed her. In the worst possible way. Publicly. They had three daughters. If she forgave him, what kind of example was that? She didn’t care that her mother thought it might be a worthy lesson for the girls if she forgave him, that sometimes the best marriages are tested, and forgiveness is for the strong. The weak held on to rage.
She stood up, using all her strength, remembering the stab of his betrayal, their marriage a depressing video playing at high speed. “Good night, Leo.”
And that’s why she’s lying in Lavande this morning, alone, sharing a wall with Leo in Beige de Lin . Her phone has a pile of notifications. Amelia asking to borrow a dress from her closet, Kayla sending a video of their dog chasing his tail, Cody telling her she misses her and Daddy. The last text is from Leo. She has changed his name in her contacts as a form of self-care.
Don’t Answer : I’ve made mistakes. We both have. But I still love you. I’m not giving up.
Penny’s thumbs move over the keys, his words reminding her of what used to be, the sensations trailing down her skin. She starts and stops several responses but sends none.
Rising from the bed, she throws on workout pants and a black sports bra. Rummaging through the dresser drawer, she finds a long-sleeve T-shirt and tosses it over her head. Today’s schedule has them going to Crab Orchard Falls, and she likes that activities are optional, because today’s lends pause.
While brushing her teeth and fixing her hair (and before giving up and throwing it back in a ponytail), the memory of her and Leo’s first visit to the falls closes in. How she and Leo were as tangled as vines. How she’d worn a similar outfit. How they’d stopped at a giant rock near the water’s edge, and Leo pulled a picnic lunch out of his backpack. He’d brought a variety of crackers and cheese, plus wine from Erick’s, a shop they’d passed on their way from the airport. The water was cool that day, and they took off their shoes and dipped their toes in the crisp stream. The sun burst through the trees just as Leo pulled her to her feet and got on one knee, a waterfall cascading behind them.
He was on the cusp of greatness, still straddling the line between local boy and rising star, when he stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out a modest diamond. The rock was slippery, and Leo wobbled. Looking back, she should have known it was a sign that he couldn’t ground himself.
She had loved him. Fiercely. Protectively. And he loved her with an earnestness she couldn’t quantify, as though he could swallow her with his affection. It was never enough to be side by side: he needed to be closer, deeper. And she innocently believed their devotion would withstand any test, even the pressures of fame.
She said yes. Of course she said yes. Leo was the love of her life. And he wrapped her in his arms, lifting her up in the air, twirling her until they fell in the water, a cold rush pricking their skin. Leo was going to be a star, and he’d take her to California with him. When you’re young and hopeful, those seem like the best kind of dreams. But she was wrong. She knows that now as she blots the memory and applies cream to her puffy eyes.
Entering the kitchen, she grabs a muffin and makes her way toward the coffee station for a fresh cup. The mother and daughter are there, and Penny has clearly interrupted an argument. Cassidy—not Cassandra, as the daughter confirms (and not in a very polite way)—implores the young girl to join them on the hike, gesturing at Penny as if she’s an ally. The girl’s put on the spot, and Penny feels a sliver of empathy.
“It’s really a beautiful hike,” she says. “Short. Not too difficult. And the payoff—the waterfalls and the swimming pond—is great. You’ll enjoy it.”
The mother spins around, showing off her neon-yellow leggings. “You see, Rosalie. I told you. It’ll be good for you.”
The contempt on the young girl’s face is unavoidable, but then Jean-Paul enters the kitchen, and the conversation ceases. He greets them warmly, and Rosalie asks him if he has time for that lesson today. Jean-Paul looks confused, and the girl seems upset. “I’m sorry,” she says. “Maybe I misunderstood ... I thought ...”
“The cooking lesson! Yes, of course. You can help me prepare the dough for tonight’s beignets ... and perhaps more.”
She turns toward her mother with her legitimate excuse to miss the hike. “Sorry, I can’t join you today, Cassidy. I’m really looking forward to this.”
The next few minutes are uncomfortable and weird for Penny as mother and daughter dive into a conversation about the purpose of the trip. “You can’t spend the whole time in the kitchen,” Cassidy argues.
“If you knew where our kitchen was at home, I wouldn’t have to,” Rosalie complains.
To which her mother replies, “There’s nothing wrong with a healthy salad.” She pauses for effect. “From True Juice.”
That’s when Jean-Paul intervenes. There’s something actually very sweet about his concern. “I like having a student. Simone’s tired of my lessons ... more interested in her camera. Rosalie’s wonderful company.” This only embarrasses Rosalie further, as evidenced by the blush that fans across her cheek. “As long as it’s okay with you, Cassidy,” he adds.
The women come to an agreement, and Penny spies Cassidy sipping her coffee, avoiding the plate of fruit and a single muffin. She knows women like this. That quote “You can never be too thin or too rich” is misleading. Cassidy Banks appears borderline sick.
Renée enters with one of the other couples. She makes her rounds, asking how everyone slept, refilling coffee, and brandishing freshly baked chocolate croissants from the oven. The couple seems strained; the wife hides beneath a baseball hat. She wields a large backpack and asks if she needs a jacket.
“It’s gorgeous out,” Renée replies. “A cool sixty-five.”
“I just don’t have any room left in this thing.”
Penny gestures at Adam. “That’s what husbands are for.”
The woman turns and replies matter-of-factly, “He’s not my husband. I’m Lucy. Henry’s my husband.” She hastily unleashes her brown hair from the hat.
“Oh gosh. I’m so sorry,” Penny stutters. “The hat ... the two of you ... I just got confused.”
Adam laughs, biting into a croissant, flakes of buttery bread sticking to his lips, but Lucy doesn’t seem to find humor in Penny’s error. She attempts a smile, but it’s more like a snarl.
Penny wonders if it’s her or if everyone’s cranky. And then Leo waltzes in. Leo in his powder-blue sweatshirt and navy joggers. Leo with the famous eyes. Leo with his big, cheerful smile. And the room transforms.
Leo has always had this quality about him. At one time she might have said it was his good looks and charming personality, and then she would have chalked it up to his stage presence, but now she understands that certain people have magnetic auras. The astronomer, this Lucy’s actual husband, was talking about energy fields at the table last night, gravitational pulls that keep planets orbiting the sun. “The bigger the mass, the stronger the gravitational pull,” he had said. It’s the only way to explain Leo’s effect. Everyone around him feels the tug.
He comes up alongside her, and she catches a whiff of his soap or some new cologne. It’s light and breezy, like those scents called “blue linen” or “shower fresh,” and she tries not to let his proximity rattle her. Cassidy moves her chair closer to him, a move she thinks is subtle, though it’s really anything but. Leo gives her his kindest smile, and she flushes, panting before his eyes. “Are you going on the hike today, Leo?”
The casual way in which she says his name crashes into Penny, but she’s used to women thinking they know Leo because they’ve seen him on the screen. And Leo, friendly to all his fans, grabs Cassidy’s eyes in his. And that’s the thing. The guy doesn’t even have to try. His eyes just penetrate, seducing anyone in their path. It’s not normal.
“Wouldn’t miss it. You too?”
Which Cassidy mistakes for an invitation, and the zipper on her sweat jacket comes down a notch, revealing the breasts the group is already familiar with.
Penny stirs her coffee, refraining from dousing Leo and Cassidy in hot liquid.
Footsteps sound, and Henry and Sienna descend the stairs. Henry heads toward Lucy, and Sienna plops herself on her husband’s lap. Now this makes sense. The high school cheerleader and her handsome football star. These two radiate. The sun and the moon.
Sienna reminds Penny of Claire. Claire Leonardo. Even her name made her and Leo kindreds. She was the one who finally wore Leo down, the one who had him breaking their vows. Claire with her California beach beauty, legs that stretch for miles, and chiseled features. Penny’s eyes land on Leo, who’s also appraising Sienna, and when he turns and catches her eye, it’s too late. Penny’s been caught staring at him. And instead of gloating, he simply smiles, bringing his coffee to his lips.
That’s when she notices the platinum ring. There’s no mistaking it: Leo’s wearing the band she placed on his finger all those years ago. She doesn’t remember if he was wearing it yesterday, but she’d like to think she would have noticed something that monumental, because in a few days, they’ll be revisiting that memory.
Sienna asks them if they’ve been on this hike before, and Leo tells her that not only have they been on the hike but that’s where he proposed. Cassidy gushes how cute that is, even though she clearly doesn’t mean a word of it.
An awkward silence follows, no one really sure of what to say.
“So does this mean you’re back together?” Sienna asks. “This nonsense about Claire Leonardo is just your typical celebrity gossip, right?”
“You can’t believe everything you read on the internet,” Leo says.
“I tell my clients there’s no such thing as bad PR,” Adam adds.
Sienna elbows him in the ribs, which halts further discussion. She meets Penny’s eyes and guesses the woman sees her hurt. Sienna directs her next question to her friend. “Luce, can we get out our calendars and plan a Hamptons weekend this summer? You haven’t been to New York in over a year.”
Lucy’s biting into a croissant when Henry answers, “That long?”
“Before we leave, we need to lock it in. The kids miss each other. And next thing you know, it’ll be preseason, and Adam starts traveling again.”
“Yeah, guys,” he says between bites of pineapple. “We need to step it up.”
Cassidy asks how old their kids are. Penny knows full well they told everyone last night, but that’s what happens at these dinners. You drink and forget things.
Sienna can’t wait to reply. “Our Julia and their Harry are eight, and our Sammie and their Julius are six.” She pulls out her phone and scrolls to a picture of the four kids. The girls are in soccer uniforms, and the boys are in khakis, dress shirts, and thick glasses.
A flicker of last night’s conversation shoots through Penny’s brain. They were discussing how the girls were athletes and the boys more academically inclined. She remembers one aspiring to be a neurosurgeon, the other president of the United States.
She glances at Leo. He’s sipping his coffee. He won’t eat—not for any other reason than he doesn’t like breakfast. Cassidy makes her way to his side, and she peppers him with one question after another, and because Leo has an innate friendliness, he doesn’t dismiss her, though small talk before noon has never been his strong suit. Rosalie and Jean-Paul disappear into the pantry, where he’s selecting ingredients for their cooking lesson. When they return to the cooktop, the girl’s eyes light up at the mention of a trip to the farmers’ market.
Renée addresses them as they languidly sip tea and coffee, noshing on a variety of pastries and an assortment of fruits and granola. “Simone will drive you to Crab Orchard Falls. I suggest comfortable shoes, preferably hiking boots, and if you’re inclined to take a dip in the water, which I recommend, pack a bathing suit and towel.”
Cassidy cracks some joke about skinny-dipping, but the joke falls flat, and Renée continues, unfazed. “We have a lovely lunch packed. And some wine. Clothing is mandatory.”