Jesse
Toby shakes his head at his wife’s interrogation as he carries the last of the food over to the table.
He sets down in front of Charlotte a plastic plate of pasta that’s been cut into toddler-sized bites and doused in Parmesan, then scoops a ladle of peas on top.
My three-year-old niece gathers the vegetables in her tiny fist. She holds her father’s gaze, then smirks as she dumps them unceremoniously onto the floor.
It takes every ounce of strength not to snort in amusement.
You’ve got to respect a strong-willed woman.
My brother sighs as he sets a large ceramic bowl of spaghetti in the center of the table and then takes a seat beside Shelby.
Based on the look on my sister-in-law’s face, the only thing she’s hungry for this evening is gossip.
We usually have dinner together on Sunday nights, but when Shelby heard that we met the Marissa Morgan this afternoon, she insisted on bumping up family time to tonight.
She should know she’s come to the wrong place for shameless gossip.
“Well?” she presses.
I shrug and spoon a heap of pasta onto my plate, covertly sneaking a bite to my boxer, Diesel, who’s waiting patiently beneath the table.
He huffs with delight as he gobbles it down with a level of enthusiasm I won’t be sharing.
My brother is a terrible cook, but neither Shelby nor I have ever had the heart to tell him as much.
Especially since the family-style suppers he prepares are the highlight of his week.
And mine, not that I’ll ever admit it. He loves being able to carry on the tradition we grew up with, even though Dad’s been gone for years.
And Mom … well. In any case, it’s just the four of us now, which is why I show up to my brother’s house on a weekly basis, let my niece dress me in princess accessories, and happily eat his overcooked spaghetti.
“We exchanged two sentences and then she took her kids out for dinner. She seemed normal, I guess.”
This is a bald-faced lie. “Normal” is the last word anyone would use to describe Marissa Morgan.
I’ve seen her movies, of course. Who hasn’t? I’ll even admit to watching a few episodes of that after-school show from the kids network. The one with all the singing. But the screen does no justice to the flesh-and-blood reality of her.
Warm brown eyes. Hair the color of fresh pennies.
A full bottom lip that she chewed on while weighing the decision to let me help her with her bags.
Her face has been burned into the backs of my eyelids, like one of those visual illusions you experience after staring at a bright light.
Not that I have any intention of admitting this to Shelby, of all people.
I love her like a sister, but she’s a fiend for gossip, and if you throw her a line, she’ll drag you right into the lake.
The other thing I’ve neglected to mention to Shelby is that today was not the first time I’ve seen Marissa Morgan in person.
Not by a long shot.
If my sister-in-law knew the truth about our past, she might spontaneously combust.
“Well, she’s not pregnant!” Toby announces triumphantly as he fills his plate. “So, you were wrong about that.”
Shelby’s brow furrows as she turns to my brother. “I never said she was pregnant. I said I thought Rayna, her ex-husband’s fiancée, was pregnant, and that’s why he proposed to her again. Remember, we had a whole conversation about their love triangle?”
Toby’s cheeks redden. “Oh. Whoops.”
She narrows her eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t ask a woman, much less a client, much less A-list actress Marissa Morgan, if she was pregnant.”
Toby doesn’t respond but looks guilty as hell as he stuffs pasta down his gullet. Shelby pinches the bridge of her nose. Serves her right for trying to rope my Neanderthal brother into her gossip.
“Did she at least seem excited to be spending the summer here?” she asks, turning her attention to me. Exasperation has crept into her voice and it’s clear that she’s losing patience with both of us.
I shrug again. “I don’t know. I guess.”
Truthfully, Marissa didn’t seem excited at all.
If anything, she seemed kind of sad. I think that’s what’s been nagging at me most. Her eyes have lost that memorable sparkle.
And it doesn’t make sense. She’s got it all: success, money, two great kids.
Real, rare beauty that deepens the closer you look.
What could a woman like her possibly have to feel sad about?
I’ll admit I’ve kept track of her over the years. Not in a creepy way, of course. Casually. I’ve seen the magazine covers. I know she took a step back from Hollywood to parent her kids. I know her dickbag of an ex cheated on her for years, and that they ultimately split up.
I know she’s single again.
Shelby’s eyes are still burning a hole into my skull, and I realize I’d better throw her a bone before she starts digging a six-foot hole in the backyard.
“Well, she did seem interested in getting some additional work done on the house. I mentioned that you could swing by next week. Check out the place, pitch her some ideas and—”
“Holy shit, Jesse!” She squeals loudly enough for Diesel to pop his head up to see what’s going on. “Marissa Morgan wants me to come to her house, and you’re just now mentioning it?”
Her face is turning red, and I hide my smile, taking another mouthful of spaghetti. Shelby’s the little sister I never had, and I can’t resist an opportunity to get under her skin.
She turns to Toby and shakes her head in frustration. “Remind me again why he’s the head of the company?”
“Because he’s the one with half a degree in business management,” my brother reminds her.
“Okay, but I’m the one with the interpersonal skills,” she argues.
“You’re not wrong,” I agree. “Feel free to take over any time. You know it wasn’t my choice to be in charge.”
Toby’s eyes drop to his plate. Shelby’s gaze shifts to her husband.
Shit. I didn’t mean to be so blunt about it. My family history is a wound that never seems to scab over and somehow, I’m always the one picking at it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be a part of the family business.
I started working summers for the company in high school and mastered the basics: carpentry, flooring, drywalling, some minor electrical stuff.
It was a great job, especially when I was young and needed spending money.
But staying on forever wasn’t my long-term plan.
And I certainly never intended to run the entire company, an undertaking so overwhelming that I lost both my sanity and my girlfriend.
Then again, Dad never intended to drop dead in the driveway.
I take a minute to consider why I waited so long to tell Shelby about Marissa.
Maybe it’s because of some misguided urge to protect her, even though it was clear she didn’t recognize me.
Which was fine. It’s been years since we last saw each other, and back then, I was just a scrawny kid who lived on the other side of the lake. I was never as memorable as she is.
Marissa stopped summering in the Poconos after joining her show.
I assumed I’d never see her again. That is, until I turned on the TV one afternoon and there she was, singing and dancing in my living room.
Toby doesn’t remember her; he was only eight when she last visited, and he mostly played with the younger kids anyway.
Shelby knows that Marissa is here because she’s inherited her grandmother’s house.
But she has no idea that we knew each other in a past life.
That while she may be a stranger to the rest of my family, she’s anything but a stranger to me.
Diesel drops his head into my lap, and I scratch behind his ears. He licks my hand and then lets out a loud, satisfied fart. Charlotte shrieks with gleeful disgust and I laugh. Boxers are known for being gassy, but Diesel seems to have a particularly sensitive digestive system.
Shelby wrinkles her nose. “Why can’t you leave that animal at home?”
“For the same reason I never ask you to leave your animal at home.” I grin at my brother. “He’s family.”
“All right, all right,” Toby grumbles as he reaches for another scoop of spaghetti.
Like Shelby, he knows exactly why I’ve brought my dog for dinner.
Even after four years of living with me, he still struggles with separation anxiety, probably because of how things went down with his first owners.
He was shivering and soaked in rain when I found him abandoned in a cardboard box outside the gas station. Poor guy still doesn’t like to get wet.
The vet told me some owners experience buyer’s remorse when they realize how challenging the breed can be as puppies.
Maybe someone decided they’d had enough of his bad habits and dumped him off.
Why anyone would abandon a helpless dog on the street instead of giving it to a shelter is beyond me.
But if there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that people always find ways to disappoint you.
Maybe that’s why Diesel and I are drawn to each other.
We both know what it’s like to be dropped like a bad habit when we don’t live up to people’s expectations.
My thoughts drift back to Marissa. The intense way she was staring at me in the foyer made me wonder if maybe she did recognize me. If she felt like we’d met before but couldn’t quite put her finger on where.
I push the thought away before it can go any farther.
When it comes to Marissa, I need to keep my expectations in check.
Even if she does make the connection, what’s she going to do?
Challenge me to a game of four square? Ask me to race her across the lake in a canoe?
It’s not like we’re kids anymore. We’re not even on the same plane of human existence anymore.
She’s a movie star and I’m … well, I’m a small-town contractor whose inner circle includes a toddler and a flatulent canine.
Luckily, our future interactions should be minimal.
According to Shelby, Marissa’s only here for the summer anyway, and she’ll probably be busy with her kids.
She seems like a great mom, which doesn’t surprise me.
She always had that empathy about her. I remember how patient she was with the one kid who was afraid to go out in the canoe.
She spent so much time working with him that I’m pretty sure he started faking it after a while, just so they could keep rowing out together.
Every kid in the neighborhood had a crush on her, and who could blame them?
She always had that star quality, the kind that pulls you right into her orbit.
When Marissa was around, it was hard to focus on anything else.
From across the table, Shelby is giving me a suspicious look.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks. “Why are you smiling? You never smile.”
Shit. I didn’t realize my face was betraying me. When I’m unable to wipe the grin off my face, I mask it by choking down another bite of spaghetti. She’s still staring at me when I swallow so I say, “Just imagining all the ways you’re going to embarrass yourself in front of a celebrity.”
She snorts. “Please. I guarantee we’ll be best friends by the end of the summer.”
I wouldn’t put it past her. Shelby is one of those people everyone flocks to. I bet there are a dozen women in this town who would tell you she’s their best friend, and every one of them would be right.
I feel a tug on my shirt sleeve. Charlotte is looking up at me with big, brown eyes. There’s a crust of cheese in the corner of her mouth.
“Let’s play restaurant!” she commands gleefully.
“Sounds perfect. I’m starving.”
Shelby shoots me a warning look.
“For dessert,” I quickly add. “What are you making us, Chef?”
Charlotte shoots me a devilish grin. “Fish.”
“Yum. Just what I’m in the mood for. Let me help clear the table and I’ll be right there, okay?”
Charlotte nods, then scampers off to her playroom.
As I start stacking the plates, I remind myself that this is what’s real.
My niece. My family. My present-day responsibilities.
Not some childhood crush who has probably grown up to become a completely different person.
Time for a reality check. I’m an adult now and with that comes the responsibility of holding this family and our business together.
My dad built Legacy Builders from the ground up, and while spending my life at the helm may not have been my intention, it is my reality.
He sacrificed so much to make this company a success, to give me and Toby the best life possible.
The least I can do is honor him by preserving it.
That means I need to put my head down, stay focused, and do the work. It’s time to let go of these ridiculous thoughts about Marissa. The sooner I can convince myself to leave that ghost in the past, the better off I’ll be.