Marissa
“Here’s your flight, ladies.” Even beneath the awning, the vineyard’s covered patio is drenched in sunlight, and I shade my eyes as I glance up at the sommelier.
“Wow, this looks great,” Pooja coos. “Can’t wait to dig into Lucky Flight Number Three!”
“I, uh … believe this is Lucky Flight Number Four,” the sommelier replies. She glances meaningfully at our empty cheese board. “I can grab some more cheese as well? Always best to drink on a full stomach!”
“That’d be great, thanks,” I tell her.
The minute she walks away, Pooja lets out a low whistle. “For a second there, I was worried she was going to cut us off. What a tragedy that would have been. I’ve only just embarked on my mouthfeel journey.”
I snort into my glass as I finish the last of my strawberry wine. Pooja convinced me to do a wine tasting with her this afternoon, and despite the small portion sizes, it’s safe to say we’re both pleasantly buzzed.
Pooja lifts one of the glasses from the wine tray. She gives the pale golden liquid an artful swirl before taking a sip.
“Mmm,” she says, adopting a posh accent. “I’m getting hints of apple. And a skosh of cinnamon.”
I select another glass and take a sip. “This one is lovely. I’m detecting a dapple of moonlight.”
“Divine! I’m getting titillations of tumbleweed.”
“This one has notes of boarding school and sexual repression.”
“Ooh, let me try.”
I pass my glass to Pooja. She smacks her lips together and then pauses thoughtfully.
“Interesting. I’m getting kinky billionaire with a foot fetish and unresolved mommy issues. Also, leather.”
“Your palate is so refined.”
I take a sip from the last glass and then let out a gasp.
“Oh, Pooja. You’re going to love this one.”
“What does it taste like?”
“It tastes like … I can hear the music thumping.”
Pooja’s eyes go wide. “You don’t mean…?”
“I do. I can hear the rhythm pumping.”
“Have you heard the news, coming down your street?”
“Does it feel like magic, every time we meet?”
“Down at the Little LLC!” we sing in unison.
A few other patrons glance over at our table, but Pooja and I pay no attention as we belt out the rest of the lyrics to the theme song of the show that brought us together.
It’s the kind of thing we’d never do in LA, the farthest thing from a judgment-free zone.
But here, it’s barely causing a ripple of attention. Just the way I like it.
Our waitress places a fresh tray of charcuterie on our table just as we’re fist-pumping our way through the last line, then hurries off without making eye contact. I make a mental note to leave her a very large tip.
“Speaking of your stardom,” Pooja says, spreading soft cheese over a cracker, “while you were busy getting hammered, nailed, and screwed last night, I started to worry about something.”
I lower my glass. “Pooja, I’m so sorry. I hope we didn’t wake you up.”
She waves me off. “No, not that. Trust me, I’m thrilled about that. But I’m … concerned that I’m pushing you to go back to work before you’re ready.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I don’t want you to sign on to this movie for me. Don’t say yes because you think it’s what I want.”
I press my elbows into the table and lean forward. “Pooja, you’ve been trying to get me to go back to work for the past decade.”
“I know.” My best friend’s expression is laced in guilt.
“Honestly, I shouldn’t have done that. I never meant to make you feel bad about your choices.
Especially when I’m so damn proud. Do you know how much respect I have for you, staying home and raising your kids?
Being there to support Levi and being such a hands-on mom?
You’re incredible. I hope you know that. ”
I reach forward to squeeze her hand. “I do. But thank you for saying it.”
Pooja smiles. “So, if you are having any hesitations about doing this movie, just tell me. I would completely understand.”
I shake my head. “No, I want to do it. I can’t remember the last time I felt so excited about a project. And the fact that I get to work with my best friend? That’s the icing on top.”
“It will be nice to get the band back together.” She bites down on her thumbnail. “Also, I forwarded a script sample to your inbox on the off-chance that you wouldn’t say no.”
“That’s my girl, always one step ahead. That’s why you should be running the company.”
“Don’t get me started.”
Aware that it’s a sore subject, I swiftly pivot the conversation. “I can’t believe you’re leaving tonight. This weekend went by too fast.”
“I know. But it will free you up to spend some more time with your carpenter. And for the record, I wouldn’t be so hasty to blow this off as a summer fling. Rocky never looked at you the way that man does.”
My stomach flutters. “How does he look at me?”
Over the top of her wineglass, Pooja’s brown eyes bore into mine.
“Like you hung the fucking moon.”
By the time our Uber drops Pooja off at the airport and then takes me back home, it’s after 8 PM.
When I walk through the front door, the silence of the empty house is deafening and the thought of spending the night alone suddenly feels unappealing.
Keys in hand, I rotate on my heel, shutting the door behind me as I head to my car.
I keep my windows down, letting the breeze blow through my hair.
The night air is cool and crisp, and the setting sun paints a perfect backdrop for an evening drive.
I don’t even realize where I’m headed until I reach a small house with a forest-green exterior.
There’s a man sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch, and when my car pulls into the driveway, the dog resting at his feet lifts his head.
As soon as I step out of the car, Diesel leaps up and races toward me, bouncing off the ground with a series of happy, high-pitched barks.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say as I reach forward to pet him. “I know, I missed you too.”
Jesse steps off the porch and makes his way over to me. He’s wearing a white undershirt and a pair of gray joggers. The sight of him turns my mouth dry.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” I say. “I hope it’s okay that I just showed up.”
“You’re always welcome here,” he says. His eyes are fixed on mine, steady and firm, and I know he means it.
I glance behind him, taking in the perfectly domestic setup of the front porch.
A pitcher of lemonade sits between two rocking chairs and there’s a flannel blanket and small dish of water on the ground for Diesel.
There’s a tented book on Jesse’s chair, and the other is vacant, like it’s been waiting for me.
Like I’m the missing piece to this scenic puzzle.
My gaze drifts over to Jesse’s book, then snags on the familiar cover. I turn to him, stunned.
“You’re reading The Felix Files?”
There’s a hint of sheepish pink on Jesse’s cheeks. “You left it here the other day. And they say you should read the book before seeing the movie.”
My chest warms. He’s reading this book for me. Because it’s important to me. I can’t think of anything that would make me feel more supported than I do right now.
I take a step forward, closing the space between us.
“Do you mind if we go inside?”
Jesse reaches forward to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do.”