Jesse
Diesel is waiting impatiently at my feet as I flip over the bacon and eggs in the griddle pan.
When he lets out a long, pathetic whimper, I cave, breaking off a small piece of meat, tossing it onto the floor.
He snorts with pleasure as he gobbles it up and Marissa laughs from her spot at the kitchen counter.
“Look at you. A big softie for your child.”
I shrug my shoulders with a grin. “Life is short. Especially for dogs. They deserve to be happy during their brief time on earth.”
She nods. “Couldn’t agree more.”
Our breakfast is ready a few minutes later, so I scoop everything onto two plates and carry them over to the counter. Marissa takes a bite and moans appreciatively.
“This is amazing,” she says. “I can’t remember the last time I had bacon.”
“Guess you’ll have to hang out here more often,” I tell her.
She grins. “Guess I will.” She reaches across my lap to take hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze.
A pleasurable zing runs through me, and I tighten my grip.
We eat the rest of our breakfast like that, because even though it’s awkward to hold my fork in my left hand, there’s not a chance I’m going to let go before she does.
I’m still thinking about how it felt when she pulled into my driveway last night. How she smiled at me as she reached out to pet Diesel, who was just as happy to see her as I was. It was the most natural thing in the world, watching her come home to me. Like it was the way things had always been.
“So, what else is on the agenda for today?” I ask as I finish the last of my eggs.
Marissa uses her free hand to root around in her tote bag. She extracts a stack of bound papers and lays it next to her breakfast plate. “Pooja sent over a script, and I need to run lines. I’m doing a chemistry test in a few weeks with some of the guys auditioning to play my husband.”
“I’ll rehearse with you,” I say. It comes out gruffer than I intended. Great, now I’m jealous of actors pretending to be in a relationship with her. I need to shake that off, and fast, because pretending is part of her career. She needs me to support her, not stifle her.
I clear my throat before trying again. “If you think it would help.”
Marissa’s face lights up. “I would love that, if it isn’t too much trouble. I don’t want to hijack your whole day.”
I almost laugh out loud. As if there is anything I’d rather be doing than spending time with her.
“Not a problem,” I tell her. “What do you say we head down to the water?”
Unlike Marissa’s, my house isn’t lakefront. But what I do have is membership to a private beach. At least, our town’s version of a private beach.
The small strip of sand is enclosed behind a picket fence that looks like it’s seen better days. Inside, a dozen chaise lounges line the shore. Their occupants, mostly middle-aged women, face the water, while a few kids balance on an oversized inflatable a few feet out into the lake.
“I’m assuming this isn’t your first time on exclusive sand,” I say as I lead her down the cobblestone path toward the entrance.
“Nope. Glad we can finally break away from the peasants.”
I snort out a laugh as I lead her through the gate.
We grab a couple of unoccupied loungers and drag them into the shade.
No one gives us a second glance, either because Marissa is well-disguised in the baseball cap she borrowed from me, or because this isn’t the Caribbean, and celebrities aren’t typically spotted around here.
Marissa pulls the script out of her purse and hands it to me.
“Okay,” she says. “I’m mostly off book for this scene so you can hold it.
You’re reading as my husband, Alec. For context, when I was tucking our son into bed, he told me that he discovered a secret portal beneath the school gym today.
I’m not sure that I believe him, but there’s something about his story that is nagging at me.
Anyway, I’m telling you about it while we’re getting ready for bed and you definitely don’t believe me. ”
She sits up in her chair and mimes brushing her teeth. When I stifle a laugh, she smacks my knee.
“Don’t make fun of my process,” she protests. “I’m orienting myself to the scene.”
I cross an X over my heart. “I would never. Please, don’t let me interrupt.”
After she flosses, rinses, and spits, she shakes out her hands and cracks her neck.
“Okay,” she says. “I’m ready.”
She blinks her eyes a few times and when she looks at me again, she’s a totally different person. She hasn’t said a word yet and I’m already completely transfixed.
“Justin told me something interesting tonight,” she says.
She’s staring at me expectantly for a few seconds before I realize that’s my cue.
“Oh. Right.” I fumble with the script and manage to find my line.
“What do you mean?” I ask, dropping my voice an octave.
Marissa abandons her character and laughs. “What is happening with your voice?”
“Why should you be the only one who gets to play a role?”
She barks out a laugh. “Okay, DiCaprio.” Rolling her shoulders, she shifts back into character.
“Something about a portal or something?” She exhales a soft breath of laughter and shakes her head. “I know it sounds ridiculous. But the way he was talking about it. He was so insistent, and the details were so vivid. I don’t know. Maybe he really did see something.”
“You let that kid watch too much TV. He’s probably just repeating lines from a show. You know he does that sometimes.”
Marissa shakes her head. “Justin hasn’t really had issues with echolalia since preschool.”
The stage directions indicate that I should wrap my arms seductively around her waist. Finally, a move I can get behind. I can’t reach her waist from where I am sitting, so I settle for closing my hand around her ankle and giving it a squeeze.
“You were in his room for a long time,” I recite. “I was starting to get antsy. I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself.” I put the script down and give her an exasperated look, breaking character. “Tell me she isn’t going to sleep with the guy after he was so dismissive.”
“Well, he is her husband!” she laughs. Then she pauses, the smile slipping off her face.
I wonder if she’s thinking about her own ex.
Is this what he was like as a father and husband?
Did he ever take her seriously or meet her needs emotionally?
Or did he also use sex as a tool for distraction? I feel my jaw clench at the thought.
“No, you’re right,” Marissa says after a beat.
“That’s a good note. My character doesn’t rebuff him, but they do split up later in the movie.
I think the acting choice here is in her body language.
She lets it happen, but it should be clear early on that she isn’t quite happy with this partnership.
” Satisfied with the analysis, she grins.
“Wow, thanks for that. You’re a great partner. ”
I raise my eyebrows. “Does this mean I’ve passed the chemistry test?”
“I’ll show you chemistry.”
She crawls over to my lounger, swinging one leg over to the other side as she straddles me.
“You look cute in my hat.”
“Is that so?” She twists the brim, swiveling the hat backward. “How about now?”
I tsk. “Even cuter.”
I cup her neck, bringing her down to me. Her lips brush against mine, soft at first. When I part them with my tongue, she breathes a tiny sigh into my mouth, and I nibble at her bottom lip. My hand slides under her shirt, ghosting against her rib cage.
She pulls back, shooting me a wicked grin.
“I don’t think this beach is private enough for that.”
With a frustrated groan, I drag my hand out from beneath the fabric.
“You’re right. The township needs to invest in cabanas.”
I shift into a seated position, dragging her into my lap. “Okay, enough funny business. We need to get you ready.”
Her eyes turn soft as they roam over me.
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“For what?”
She gives me a tiny smile. “For believing in me.”
“I always have.”
“I know. I remember.”
She leans forward, pressing her lips into the hollow of my throat, and I slide a palm down her back, drawing her closer.
“Sometimes I wish I could have a do-over,” she murmurs into my skin. “There are so many things I’d do differently.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Marissa lifts her head to meet my eyes. “How much time do you have?”
I turn my wrist over and pretend to study the bare skin. “You’ve got a few minutes.”
Marissa grins and then extracts herself from my arms slowly. She repositions herself on her own lounger and flings an arm over her eyes, blocking out the sun.
“I’ve been an island for the past few years when I should have built a village.
There were opportunities for autism community support in Los Angeles.
Play groups and mommy meetups. I guess I thought I didn’t need it.
But when I was at Zara’s, I realized what I was missing.
” She shrugs. “Granted, the community in LA is different. Everyone is hyper-focused on career and there’s so little connection and community.
People are nice, but it’s all surface-level charm.
I’ve never felt like I could let down my guard around them the way I have here.
It felt like any show of weakness would be weaponized.
But not everyone is like that. I could have tried harder to expand my circle, you know? ”
I nod but don’t say anything. One thing I’ve learned about women is that they don’t always need solutions. They just want you to listen.
“And maybe my career pivot didn’t need to be so extreme,” she continues.
“I wanted to be present for my kids, but I could have found something to fill my own cup as well. But it was also clear that Rocky wasn’t going to be taking any time away from his career, so it felt like it was all on me and I didn’t want my kids to be raised entirely by nannies.
So, I went on hiatus and gave my family my full attention.
And I loved it, at least at first. It just got to be so isolating at times.
And after a while, I started to think I didn’t even know who I was anymore outside of being a mom. ”
“That all makes sense,” I say.
She tilts her head to look at me. “More?”
“Absolutely.”
She gives me a grateful smile and then continues.
“I shouldn’t have turned a blind eye to things with Rocky.
I’d heard whispers that he could be overly familiar on film sets.
I guess I didn’t want to believe it was more than that.
Just harmless flirting, you know? Besides, we were married.
I trusted him. So, I looked the other way and told myself it was nothing.
Just petty gossip. Until one night, someone took a video of him making out with the star of one of his movies and TMZ posted it online. ”
I wince. “Oof.”
“Right?” She takes a deep breath, steadying herself.
“The worst part was that when the video was posted, people started coming out of the woodwork with stories. Some women claimed to have slept with him. Others had screenshots of their DM convos. Worst of all, everyone on set seemed to have known about the affair for months, and not one person thought to tell me. Do you know how humiliating it is, to realize you are the last to know your husband is cheating on you?”
A single tear escapes her eye, and I reach out to brush it away with my thumb.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her. “You didn’t deserve any of that. Neither did your kids.”
“Thank you. I mean, I don’t regret my relationship with Rocky. If I hadn’t met him, I wouldn’t have Isla and Levi, the two most important people in my life.” Her mind seems to reel, and then she goes on. “And after this trip, I’m sure they’re going to want to spend more time with him.”
She gives me a weak smile. “I just wish things hadn’t ended like they did. After what went down with my parents, I never wanted my own kids to have a broken home.”
I have a brief flashback to the last time I saw her before she left to film Little LLC, tear-streaked and hiding behind the bushes.
I know how hard Marissa took her parents’ divorce, but I never considered how it would impact her as a mom.
Does she wish she hadn’t divorced Rocky?
If she got her wish for a do-over, would she have stayed married to him?
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Marissa, it’s that her family is her biggest priority.
And if there was ever a chance for her to make it whole again, how could I stand in her way?