Jesse
Marissa looks surprised when she opens the door to see me and Shelby standing on her front porch.
I can’t blame her, since she not-so-subtly kicked me out when her friend Pooja arrived yesterday and hasn’t spoken to me since.
At this point, I have no idea where we stand, and it’s making me uneasy.
Was our hookup a one-time thing and now it’s back to business?
Are we supposed to just go back to the way things were, like she wasn’t screaming my name twenty-four hours ago?
“Hi!” Marissa says, eyeing me with uncertainty.
“I, uh … wasn’t expecting you.” That much is clear, especially since we don’t have anything scheduled.
But Shelby insisted on coming over today to get final measurements for the newly installed bay window before placing an upholstery order for the cushion.
I tried telling her that Marissa had plans and wouldn’t be around.
She just laughed and said that our sex date did not count as plans.
When I didn’t respond, she took one look at my flushed cheeks and high-fived my brother.
I made an on-the-spot decision to never return for Shitty Spaghetti Night.
“Hey-yo!” Shelby calls, oblivious to Marissa’s bewildered expression. She glances down at the glass of champagne in her hand and grins.
“What’s the occasion?”
“Marissa is taking charge and becoming the main character in her own story!” her friend calls from the kitchen.
Shelby lets out a whoop. “Yeah, girl, I’m here for it! Pour me a glass, will you?”
I watch as Marissa introduces Shelby to Pooja, who immediately becomes her best friend. No surprise there: Everyone who meets Shelby immediately becomes her best friend.
I got the impression Marissa had forgotten Pooja was planning to visit. I also got the impression that she’d never mentioned me before. And that was like getting slapped across the face by a massive reality check.
I keep coming back to the way she introduced me. My carpenter. That stung. Is that how she sees me, as nothing more than the hired help? If that’s the case, I get why she was dismissive of me.
I don’t know why I expected otherwise. I am her carpenter. And yeah, we had a great night together, but what did I think was going to happen? This was never going to be anything more than a casual hookup.
At the end of the summer, she’s going to go back to her Hollywood life, and I’ll be an amusing anecdote she’ll recount to her friends over an expensive sushi dinner. Did I tell you about the townie I hooked up with this summer?
Actually, she probably wouldn’t even mention it.
The thought evokes physical pain, and I rub a fist over my chest, trying to distill the sting.
I know I’m being ridiculous. Marissa is not that kind of person, and I know she doesn’t see me that way.
But I also need to put last night behind me.
I’m smart enough to realize there isn’t a future for the two of us.
Girls like that don’t stay in places like this.
In fact, that girl already didn’t stay in this place.
Of course, I didn’t think I would either.
If only I could get my brain to cooperate. But I’m like a moth to the flame, unable to tear my eyes away from Marissa. She’s radiant, more lit up than I’ve ever seen her as she moves around the kitchen, scooping nuts into a fancy-looking bowl and laughing at something Shelby has said.
Shit. This is not going to end well for me.
“Okay, we need the full story,” Shelby is saying. “Tell us more about this movie you’re making.”
Movie? What movie?
I don’t realize I’ve said it out loud until three sets of eyes turn in my direction.
“Marissa and Pooja are planning to adapt a YA novel,” Shelby says. “With an autistic main character. How cool is that?”
“You’re going back to work?” The words come out too peppy, ringing false.
The corners of Marissa’s smile falter and I’m certain she’s clocked the undertone of displeasure.
God, what is wrong with me? This is amazing news, and I am so happy for her.
But it also comes with a heady sense of déjà vu.
I remember the last time Marissa was excited for a big part.
I didn’t see her again for two decades after that.
But I know that this is important to her. Which means I need to be as supportive now as I was then. I clear my throat and try again. “Marissa, that’s amazing.”
“I guess you inspired me.” Marissa’s eyes are searching mine for a reaction. Maybe she did detect the note of uncertainty in my tone. “You made me realize that I need to make myself a priority.”
There’s a beat when I don’t know what to say.
“I’m telling you, it’s the paintball course,” Shelby says, keeping the mood light.
“It’s the most romantic place on earth.” Her eyes have turned into cartoon hearts, and for one terrible, nauseating moment, I have a vision of my brother dressed as Mario’s archnemesis.
I blink it away before my breakfast burrito revisits me.
“The paintball course?” Pooja looks confused.
“It was so much fun,” Shelby tells her. “And Jesse jumped in front of Marissa and took our team’s shot. He sacrificed himself so she wouldn’t be out of the game.”
“No shit,” Pooja breathes. “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I know, right?” Shelby beams at a blushing Marissa.
Then her expression changes.
Oh no. I know this look of enthusiastic determination. She’s about to pitch something.
“What are you guys doing tonight?” she asks. She looks in Marissa’s direction. “And don’t say Jesse, because you have all day tomorrow to do him.”
“I…” Two pink dots form on Marissa’s cheeks as she trails off. A small part of me is pleased that she doesn’t deny it. Her eyes meet mine and I notice her pupils are dilated. Maybe I’ve miscalculated. Maybe she doesn’t want last night to be a one-off.
“Perfect, so you’re free,” Shelby confirms. “Come with me to tonight’s Ina Garten Cookbook Club.”
“What on earth is Ina Garten’s Cookbook Club?” Pooja raises an eyebrow, looking intrigued.
“Exactly what it sounds like. Once a month, the girls and I make a dish from one of Ina’s cookbooks and then we bring them to someone’s house and have a potluck. Oh, and we also dress up as Ina. Really adds to the experience.”
“You do this every month?” I can’t decide if Pooja is horrified or impressed.
Shelby shrugs. “There’s not much else to do around here on a Saturday night.”
“It’s already four o’clock.” Marissa sounds skeptical. “I don’t have time to make anything, much less acquire a chin-length wig.”
“You can do a quick charcuterie board. Ina would not want you to stress,” Shelby reassures her. “And you can borrow some costuming from me. We’ve been doing this for a while now and I’ve garnered quite the collection of denim shirts and tasteful scarves.”
Marissa’s eyes drift to mine and I shrug as I give her an amused smile. I know my sister-in-law: Once she’s gotten an idea in her head, there’s no talking her out of it. The best thing Marissa can do is lean in and let it happen.
“This sounds like something I cannot miss,” Pooja agrees. “One must always do it for the plot.”
Shelby retracts her measuring tape and makes a note on her phone.
“Perfect. And I’ve got the final measurements, so I can go ahead and order the cushion for your bench. I’ll pick you guys up at seven, if that works?”
The other two women nod, and Shelby joins me by the door, looping her arm through mine.
“See, I told you we’d be in and out,” she says. “How easy was that?”