Marissa
Toby and Shelby’s house is less than five minutes away from Jesse’s and, like his, has no shortage of charm.
It’s nestled among a cluster of trees, and the exterior is lined with uneven wooden slats in an indeterminate shade of blue.
The red front door echoes the red wooden bench resting against the side of the porch.
After a brief debate on who will notify the residents of our arrival, it is determined that Isla will ring the doorbell and Levi will knock.
The combination elicits a muffled barking sound from inside, and a few seconds later, Toby answers the door.
He’s wearing an apron that says, I’VE GOT THIS, I WATCHED A YOUTUBE TUTORIAL, and there’s a splatter of sauce crusted into his beard.
“Hi, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping a burly arm around me. He pulls back and offers Levi a high five. When he declines it, he seamlessly shifts his hand in Isla’s direction. She shakes it instead and he lets out a bellowing laugh.
“Well now, I didn’t realize we were in the company of royalty,” he says. Isla gives him a pleased grin and he leans into it further, dropping into a bow and sweeping his arm toward the open door.
“Please, do come in.”
We step into the small foyer and are welcomed by a loud roo roo from upstairs.
It’s followed by the clicking of doggy toenails on the wooden floor and then Diesel is skittering down the staircase.
Jesse hurries down the steps behind him and I hear him calling the dog’s name in warning, but it’s too late; the invisible springs on the bottom of his paws have been activated, and he bounces several feet in the air as he leaps on me, licking my face in greeting.
Isla takes a few steps backward, which doesn’t surprise me; she likes animals, but she’s always been cautious, especially around bigger dogs.
But I am surprised to hear Levi scream. Unlike his sister, he loves dogs unequivocally.
When he was a toddler, our neighbor’s goldendoodle would regularly knock him over, and he’d squeal in delight as the dog slathered him in kisses.
The second Levi screams, Jesse grabs Diesel by the collar and pulls him back. He scoops the dog up into his arms—no small feat considering Diesel’s size—and carries him back upstairs. A bedroom door closes, and muffled dog barks come from behind it. A moment later, Jesse is descending the stairs.
“Sorry about him,” he says quickly. “We’ll keep him in Charlotte’s bedroom.”
“I’m sorry too,” I say. I already feel a pang of guilt—I hate the idea of locking up a dog, even when it’s necessary. I look at Levi, perplexed. He’s clearly agitated, flicking his ear as he paces back and forth.
“He normally loves dogs. I’m not sure what this is about,” I say as much to myself as anyone else.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse reassures me. “Here, let me grab this.” He takes the plastic-covered bowl out of my hand. I had completely forgotten I was holding it. “What did you bring us?”
“It’s nothing special. Just an Italian green salad that I like to make with pasta dishes. I hate to show up empty-handed.”
“You don’t need to be formal with us,” Jesse reassures me. “We are very informal people. But we do appreciate it. I’m thrilled that I’ll have something good to eat tonight.”
I cock my head to the side. “What do you mean? It smells great in here. Isn’t Toby making lasagna?”
One corner of his mouth twitches but the rest of his expression is unreadable.
“Yup.”
Toby leads the kids down to the basement playroom, and I follow Jesse into the kitchen, where Shelby is busying herself in front of the small bar area. Her eyes light up when she sees me.
“You made it!” she says, strolling over to give me a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“And she brought salad,” Jesse says meaningfully as he sets the bowl down on the counter.
“Oh, thank Christ,” she says. “Now I’ll have something to eat tonight.”
I look between the two of them. “What am I missing? Is there something wrong with Toby’s cooking?”
“You’ll see,” they say in unison.
“What will we see?” Toby asks as he emerges from the basement staircase.
“How great Shelby’s cocktails are,” Jesse says smoothly. “Those two college semesters where Shelby worked as a bartender are the gift that keeps on giving.” His sister-in-law throws him a grateful smile before turning back to me.
“He’s right. Cocktails are my specialty. Can I make you a drink? I was just making myself a Manhattan.”
“A Manhattan sounds great,” I reply.
Jesse leads me over to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair before sliding into the seat beside me.
He’s dressed in a faded T-shirt and a pair of black joggers.
He looks so cozy that I just want to curl into him.
I notice my body unconsciously angling toward his, like a pantry moth to the flame.
There’s something so quietly, innately comforting about Jesse.
His presence is so strong and reassuring, like nothing too bad could ever happen when he’s around.
Every time he’s in my vicinity, my limbs go soft, and I feel instantly lighter, the walls I normally keep up retreating.
“So Rocky just showed up early with your kids? Is that some kind of power move?” Shelby asks without preamble as she slides a cocktail in front of me.
Shelby is nothing if not straightforward and I kind of love this about her.
It’s such a welcome shift from the LA women I’m used to.
The ones whose words can’t be taken at face value.
I shrug. “I’m not sure, to be honest. He just said the kids missed me.”
It felt validating, in the moment, to know how much I was missed.
I have been the primary parent all these years, and knowing they wanted to be with me fulfilled a craving to be recognized for it.
But in the moment, I hadn’t really stopped to think deeply about my family’s unexpectedly early return.
Now I’m wondering why I accepted it so readily.
Because you always let Rocky walk all over you, an uncharitable voice in the back of my head reminds me. It’s kind of your thing.
Shelby seems to read my mind. “Listen, I only have one kid, and I will still say that going away with our kids is a trip, not a vacation. I bet he wasn’t prepared for how much work it would be.”
“God, you’re so right. It’s the longest he’s ever had to take care of his own children. What a rude awakening that must have been.”
I take a long sip of my Manhattan. The slight bitterness of the drink matches my own mounting annoyance at my ex.
He brought our nanny along for the trip, but even so, I bet Shelby is right.
Being with our kids for that long overwhelmed him.
Which is so in character. Rocky is always all in on an idea until he realizes something is expected of him and that his own personal comfort and desires will not be the focus.
His words about Rayna echo in my brain. She’s a bottomless well of need.
I don’t know Rayna, but she’s always been labeled a diva.
Now I’m starting to wonder if he’s the real source of the problem.
Because isn’t that Rocky in a nutshell? Crazy about a woman until he realizes it won’t be a one-way street, that she might need his support too?
He’d never admit it, but he started losing interest in me the second I got pregnant.
I had terrible hyperemesis gravidarum with Isla, so instead of making him dinners and posing with him on the red carpet, I was spending half the day with my head in the toilet and begging him to bring me another bottle of ginger ale.
But things really fell apart when Levi got his diagnosis.
He needed my attention, and while I was happy to give it, I was overwhelmed and exhausted.
What I needed then was a partner, someone to help shoulder the responsibility of making sure our son got everything he needed.
Instead, I got Rocky, whose work calendar was suddenly booked and whose solution to every problem was that I hire someone.
Couldn’t I just hire more therapists? Why not hire an aide, a tutor, another nanny?
Never once did it occur to him to step up to the plate himself.
And when it became clear that he was no longer the center of my attention, he went looking for it elsewhere.
The oven timer goes off and Toby slips on a pair of pink mitts before extracting a bubbling casserole dish from the oven. The air fills with the smell of herby meat and cheese and I take a deep, grateful breath.
“It smells amazing,” I tell Toby, and he beams at me. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Jesse and Shelby exchanging a look. Instead of saying anything, Shelby walks over to the basement staircase, calling down to let the kids know dinner is ready.
The three of them barrel up the stairs a few minutes later.
Isla is holding hands with a little girl wearing a Princess Tiana dress and an Elsa wig.
The sight of them fills me with joy until I see Levi behind them, looking vacant and hollow-eyed.
Guilt washes over me. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
I knew that Levi was exhausted, but I brought him here anyway, because I wanted to see Jesse.
Now he’s approaching a complete shutdown.
I swallow the sense of unease as we all take a seat around the table. Toby places the lasagna and my salad in the middle, along with a basket of breadsticks. The minute the food hits the table, Levi claps his hands over his nose.
“Smells weird!” he screams from behind his hands.
My face goes hot with mortification. Levi has struggled with food sensitivities in the past, especially food smells, but it’s something he’s mostly learned to cope with.
That is, unless he’s wildly overstimulated and in one of his moods.
Like now, for instance. Even though it’s a behavior I’m accustomed to, I’m horrified by the prospect of hurting Toby’s feelings.