Chapter 7
JULES
Islowly stepped into the hallway, like I was afraid the floor might give out beneath me.
My heart was still pounding, my ears buzzing, and the last fifteen minutes replayed in slow motion in the back of my mind.
It didn’t feel real, but there I was, standing in the empty corridor, trying to breathe through the overwhelming flood of what the fuck happened.
My brain was in a loop. The moment my fingers touched his face, brushing against his beard. That beard. He didn’t have it in most of his movies or my daydreams. It was new, and I kind of loved it.
And then… that kiss.
Oh God, the kiss. It wasn’t even a thought.
I leaned in, like my body couldn’t take another second without knowing what he tasted like.
I couldn’t even recognize myself. I almost laughed out loud.
Kissing a man I had just met was not me at all.
At least not thirty-something-year-old-single-mom-responsible me.
Was I drunk? High? Had that smoothie earlier been laced with something? Because there was no other explanation as to why I’d made out with Chris Jones in a dressing room like some lousy porn script.
The thing was—in my dreams, we’ve been together so long that maybe my brain didn’t get the memo. It didn’t click that this was the real Chris standing in front of me, not the perfectly curated, maladaptive daydream version of him.
So what did I do? Went straight for the tongue in his mouth. And shit. It was the first time in… God knows how long that the constant noise in my brain stopped. It was just us. My lips curved into a soft smile.
No, no, no. I had to be dreaming.
My fingers instinctively pressed into my palms. The tiny jabs started to ground me, but then I froze, wondering if I even wanted to be grounded.
What if it was a dream? Maybe I didn’t want to wake up.
Carol and Liam stood by the car in the still-packed parking lot with impatient glances.
My sister had texted me minutes after I’d returned to my body in that corridor to let me know they’d gotten the autograph, and Liam was officially tapping out.
He’d taken in all the stimulation he could for the day.
And well… same. There was no way I could walk back into that hall full of superhero cosplays and gigantic posters plastered with Chris’ face staring back at me. So yeah. Home it was.
I took a deep breath, trying to look like I had my shit together, at least on the outside. Because I knew my lie detector sister, and I didn’t even have words for what had happened, let alone a way to explain it. The car beeped as I unlocked it, and Carol turned her head toward me.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Jones!” she chirped.
The “Mrs. Jones” triggered something in me.
A talk show host’s voice echoed in my mind.
“Welcome back, Mrs. Jones!” It felt so real, I instinctively glanced around, almost expecting to see cameras rolling and the audience clapping.
I froze, blinking a couple of times, caught in the ridiculousness of it all.
My head was a mess. I shook it off, forcing myself to move again.
“What did you say?” I asked Carol.
Her grin shifted into something more serious. “What the fuck was that?”
I shot her a look, nodding toward Liam. Watch your mouth, thank you very much.
“Mom, can I get my tablet?” Liam asked, already climbing into his seat, oblivious to the conversation.
“Of course, baby.” I handed it over with a smile, watching as he popped on his headphones, already lost in his little world.
I buckled his seatbelt, and Carol’s voice cut through like a sharp blade.
“You are not running away from this. Spill. What happened in there?”
I slid into the driver’s seat, purposely ignoring her. She didn’t even bother trying to hide her frustration as she climbed into the passenger side, slamming the door hard enough to make a point. The car was quiet for half a second, and she started again.
“How do you know Chris Jones?”
“I don’t,” I said quickly, too quickly. My voice cracked, making me sound even more suspicious. “I mean, I didn’t…”
Carol’s sharp eyes pinned me in place, and she wasn’t buying it.
“He knew your name.”
I swallowed, forcing myself to keep my eyes forward.
“Yes.” I was retreating into short answers, a habit I leaned on when I wanted to dodge uncomfortable questions, something my sister was all too familiar with.
The engine roared. I checked the mirrors and shifted into drive, my eyes glued to the road ahead, praying she would drop it. No such luck.
“How did he know your name?”
“I’m not sure,” I murmured because I wanted an answer to that question myself.
“What?” Her arms flailed in disbelief. “How? What did you guys even talk about in there?”
“We didn’t… talk much.”
Carol stared at me like I’d declared I’d met a unicorn.
“You didn’t talk much?” She echoed. I knew she was seeing right through me. She knew me too well, and my flushed cheeks and avoidance were giving me away. Her eyes widened, a grin spreading as the realization hit. “Oh, wait! Did you make out with Chris Fucking Jones?”
“Shh!” I hissed and looked at Liam through the rearview mirror. He was blissfully immersed in his tablet. Thank God.
Carol leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“This is insane. That’s, like, next-level manifestation shit. He’s been your ultimate celebrity crush for, like, forever!”
“Twelve years, give or take,” I admitted with a sheepish smile.
“Did he find you online? Did he read something of yours?”
I shook my head, still trying to wrap my brain around everything.
“I don’t have anything online.”
That stunned her into silence. Briefly, of course.
Carol glanced at my hands, gripping the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles were turning white.
But then she caught something else—something she hadn’t seen in a long time.
My eyes, usually tired and distant, had a glimmer of something else.
Happiness? Excitement? It had been ages since she’d seen me look like this.
“Are you going out with him?” She asked.
It took me a second, but I caved.
“Tonight…”
“Tonight?” She put the pieces together. “And who’s staying with the kids?”
I kept my eyes fixed on the traffic light ahead, letting my silence do all the talking.
“Oh, no,” Carol’s head snapped toward me. “I have a date tonight!”
I looked at her with my best puppy eyes.
“I was thinking maybe you and Victoria could stay in for the night?” I said, adding a little pleading for good measure. “The kids won’t even bother you. I swear.”
“This is really weird, Jules. What if he’s like… a serial killer or something?”
“I think he’s too famous to be a serial killer. I get the impression those guys are really into anonymity.” I paused, then added, “But just in case he is, please add to my headstone: ‘Killed by award-winning actor Chris Jones.’ Thank you!”
I was extra sarcastic. Maybe I shouldn’t have been, since I was already asking a lot. I didn’t know what to expect next. For her to get into the joke or slap me. With Carol, it could easily be either. Or both.
“He’s like… from Hollywood…” Surprisingly, she did neither. Her tone shifted to a serious one, knowingly touching on a sore subject.
“I know…” My voice and chest dropped with the weight of it.
“Are you sure you want to get involved with that?”
I could see her expression of concern from the corner of my eye, and it hit me in the gut. I loved her passion, but I was the older sister. I was supposed to worry about her, not the other way around. So, I tried to lighten the mood.
“It’s just a date. He’s not putting me in a bag and dragging me to L.A.” I forced a smile. “Unless he is, in fact, a serial killer and wants to bury my body parts in his backyard or something.”
It worked. Carol cracked a smile.
“You’re such a creep.”
She sighed dramatically, tilting her head to the side like she was really weighing her options. As if! Carol and Victoria were the queens of turning a big night out into a Netflix binge marathon with no regrets. Finally, she let out an exaggerated groan and grinned.
“I feel like I should fight this harder, but let’s be real… There’s no way I’m standing in the way of you going out with Chris Fucking Jones.”
“Can you please stop calling him ‘Chris Fucking Jones’?” I shot her a look, trying to sound annoyed, but the grin tugging at my lips gave me away.
Carol laughed.
“Fine. But only because I’m pretty sure I locked in the ‘Sister of the Year’ award for this.”
Finally home, I sank into the sweet, sweet sanctuary of my bedroom.
It felt like taking off an uncomfortable bra after a long day.
I moved around the room on autopilot, letting the simple act of tidying up calm my nerves—straining the comforter, tackling the clutter on my dresser, and laying out a dress for tonight.
As I approached the vanity, my phone buzzed. I looked to see a text from Chris:
“Don’t forget to text me your address!”
A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. I still wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some elaborate daydream, but I wasn’t about to overthink it. If I got to live in delusion for a day, I’d lean in. I’d earned it.
Before I could set the phone down, it buzzed again. This time, a call. George’s name lit up the screen in bold letters. A video call request. Shit! I hesitated for a second, then hit accept and tried to sound casual.
“Hey!”
“Hey! Just getting home?” George asked.
We’ve been separated for almost a year, but he didn’t stop being a constant, steady presence in the kids’ lives. No matter how messy things got between us, of one thing I was certain: I’d picked a great father for my kids.
George was that dad. The one who read the parenting books cover to cover. He knew every name on every school committee and had every doctor and teacher on speed dial. If I’m being totally honest, he’d probably changed more diapers than I had.
“Yeah, got back a few minutes ago,” I replied.