Chapter 17
BENNETT
After two nights sharing a bed with my wife in New York, waking up alone in our bedroom was even harder. I’d done it eight more times, reaching out for her over and over again before I remembered we were back home and she was in the guest room again.
Laina had been clear that what happened in New York stayed in New York. It hadn’t meant we were back together again, no matter how much I wished differently.
But that stolen time had given me hope that I’d be able to earn my wife back.
Pulling on a T-shirt and pajama pants over my boxer briefs, I went downstairs. The house was quiet since Lucy had stayed over at Shelly’s last night after the football game, and Laina’s bedroom door was still closed.
To get caught up on the days I’d missed while out of town, I’d put in long hours this past week.
But I didn’t head to the studio this morning to go over the rough cuts.
Instead, I brought my shot of espresso into my home office—after leaving a latte in the fridge for Laina, of course.
A habit I had no intention of breaking since I liked starting my day by doing something to let my sweet wife know I was thinking of her.
Opening the secure screening software on my laptop, I mirrored the screen to the monitor I bought last weekend before pulling up yesterday’s rough cuts and putting my new headphones on.
Two small purchases to improve my home setup allowed me to catch most of the minor visual glitches or audio issues that I’d previously thought I needed to be in the studio to find.
I logged in and started the first file, feeling less pressure than I expected for mid-October.
Season five was performing better than anything we’d ever put out.
The first two episodes had gotten the highest viewership numbers in the show’s history.
The same executives who had fretted over the statement were now sending congratulatory emails like the controversy had been a marketing plan.
Even more surprisingly, the network was already talking about renewing for two more seasons instead of just one.
It was all I’d ever wanted for the show, providing my team with long-term stability and immense creative freedom. A guaranteed two-year runway would give us room to map out complex, multi-season character arcs. Including Sally.
More importantly, the new material we were working on was completely disconnected from Laina’s inspiration.
The writers had found fresh pressure points for Sally that didn’t touch anything private. She still brought chaos in a hilarious way. Watching the cuts, I could see the character still working without needing to strip-mine my marriage for the laughs.
The only thing that would make me happier was working things out with Laina. But that had to happen on her timeframe, not mine. All I could do at the moment was focus on the work in front of me.
I made a few timing notes, flagged one reaction shot that ran long, and let the footage play. After a couple of hours, my eyes started to burn. The rough cuts were clean enough, so I logged out of the software, set my headphones on the desk, and headed for the kitchen.
Laina was at the counter with her iced latte in front of her. She looked up at the sound of my footsteps and went still. “Oh. You’re home.”
I wasn’t surprised she’d been too tired to notice the shopping bags I’d brought home last Saturday or that I hadn’t gone to the studio.
She’d been totally wiped from her interviews that Friday evening but still insisted she had enough energy to go watch Lucy perform at an away game about an hour from our house.
“I fixed up my home office so I can work from here on the weekends.”
Her eyes widened at my explanation. “Really?”
“Yes.” I halved the distance between us. “I get that you’re not ready to hash everything out between us yet, but I want you to know that you were right to walk out that night.”
“I was?” she echoed, pressing a hand to her chest.
I flashed her a wry smile. “I fucking hated not knowing where you were, but it knocked some of the asshole out of me.”
“I wouldn’t call you an asshole.” She rolled her eyes. “Okay, maybe I did a few times during that first week, but I don’t really think you’re one.”
Raking my fingers through my hair, I admitted, “But I let my ego get the better of me. And not just with using some of your adorable quirks as inspiration without talking to you about it first.”
Her eyes narrowed, and her body tensed as though she was getting ready to run in the opposite direction. “What else did you do?”
I hated that I’d earned her mistrust. “Nothing as awful as that, but I took you for granted in so many other ways.”
My gaze dropped to her iced latte, and when I met hers again, she asked, “Is that why you keep making these for me each morning?”
“That first morning without you, one of the things I missed was how you always got up and made an espresso for me even though my day usually starts earlier than yours,” I admitted.
“It’s just one of the many ways you show your love for me, and I want to do the same for you.
Even if it’s with something small that only takes me five minutes before I go on with my day. ”
“It might be a small thing,” she conceded with a soft smile, “but it’s something I’ve come to look forward to when I come downstairs every day.”
“Good.” It was the only word I could croak out because my throat was suddenly tight.
“I also appreciate that you’re working on the rough cuts from home instead of going into the studio. How are they looking?”
I took her shift in subject as an obvious hint she wanted to move away from emotion and into something safer. “Pretty great, actually. The writers are doing a fantastic job, and the new material is solid.”
“I’m glad.” She took a sip of her latte and leaned a hip against the counter. “Collette mentioned the network was happy with how things were going.”
I liked that she was developing her own relationship with my publicist, in part because it meant Collette would be in a better position to protect Laina should anything ever go wrong again.
The front door opened before either of us had to fill the silence again.
“I’m home,” Lucy called. She appeared in the kitchen a moment later with her overnight bag still on her shoulder. “Shelly’s mom fed us pancakes the size of our faces. I won’t be hungry for at least a year.”
“More like an hour,” I snorted.
Laina’s whole posture softened. “Did you thank her?”
“Yes, Mom.” Lucy rolled her eyes, but there was no real edge in it. She crossed the kitchen and leaned in to kiss Laina’s cheek before glancing at me. “Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, kiddo. Did you have fun?”
“Yeah. We watched movies and pigged out on popcorn and candy. It was awesome.” She dropped her bag on the island and stole a sip of Laina’s latte before her mother could stop her. “Yum.”
Laina shook her head, but she was smiling. “There’s actual food in the fridge if the pancake speech turns out to be a lie in less than the hour your dad guessed.”
“Definitely more than an hour.” Lucy hopped on the stool across from me. “Working from home again?”
“Yup, with the new monitor and headphones, I don’t need to go into the studio to review rough cuts anymore.”
Her smile turned mischievous. “Maybe a setup like that would make my homework easier. Freshman year is way different from middle school.”
“Nice try, sweetie. But we already bought you a new laptop last month.” Laina brushed a piece of lint off Lucy’s shoulder. “Go dump your bag and put the clothes that need washing in the hamper. We’re not starting the week with a pile on your floor.”
“Tyrant,” Lucy mumbled, but she was already sliding off the stool. She paused long enough to give me a quick side hug and then headed for the stairs.
Laina wrapped both hands around her tumbler again and looked at me over the top of it with a soft smile. And I realized that progress sometimes looked like a fourteen-year-old stealing a sip of her mother’s latte and not thinking twice about it.