7. Addy
CHAPTER SEVEN
JUNE 3rd
My mom used to tell me time passed more quickly with each year. I don’t think I understood what she meant until I had kids. How is Vicki turning nine today? Nine! It can’t be nine years ago that I heard her cry for the first time. I thought that day would be the best day of my life. And it was. But I’ve had a lot of best days, more than most people get. They all share one thing in common: Emma. The first time I kissed Emma, the first day on the set of Off Screen, our wedding day, the night Emma and I both won an Emmy, the day she told me she was pregnant with Vicki, and watching Hannah and Noah born—those were all the best day of my life in some way. But there was something truly magical about the day Vicki was born. Becoming someone’s parent—watching Emma hold Vicki—nothing could have prepared me for what it felt like.
“Addy?”
I turn and sigh.
Emma smiles brightly at me. “She’s nine, honey. You’re not about to walk her down the aisle.”
I groan.
Emma walks to me and puts her arms around my neck. “It has gone by fast, hasn’t it?”
“Pretty soon, she’ll want posters of boy bands on her wall instead of princesses and animals.”
Emma grins, her eyes lighting with affection. “Boy bands?” She kisses me. “You know, she might prefer girl bands.”
I roll my eyes.
Emma laughs. “I think you have a little time, love.”
“That’s just it, Em. We have a little time. It just keeps going faster. It feels like the other day she wanted to sit in my lap."
“Addy,” Emma says. “Vicki will always be your little girl, and you will always be her person. Don’t look at me like that. Vicki loves me—she loves us all. You’re her person. I don’t think there’s a force on Earth that could change how Vicki looks at you.” Emma cups my face. “You feel the winds of change. A lot is changing. But it’s going to be wonderful, Addy.”
Emma’s gentle touch soothes me. She knows me better than anyone else does. While I’m excited for our future, change always makes me feel uneasy.
The other day, Emma received a call from her friend Ben Landon, a film director known for his successful romantic comedies. He wanted to talk to her about his upcoming movie, which has been generating a lot of buzz. It’s based on a popular novel and was set to star Monica Lewis and Bryce Cannon. Monica, who starred in a sitcom for eight seasons, has since become one of the biggest names in Hollywood. Unfortunately for Ben, Monica recently broke her leg in a horseback riding accident. He asked Emma if she would be interested in taking over the role. At first, Emma hesitated, but I could tell how much she wanted to say yes. Emma worked with Bryce when we first got together, and they’ve remained friends ever since. The movie they made was a huge commercial success, which sparked talks of them reuniting on screen. They’ve tried to find a project, but the timing never seemed to work out until now. The last time someone approached Emma with an opportunity to work with Bryce, we had just learned she was pregnant with Noah. This is a terrific opportunity for Emma, and the part is perfect for her.
She’s right—things are changing for us. In two weeks, Emma will leave for Connecticut to begin filming. I’ll stay in Kansas until Vicki and Hannah finish school, and then we will join her there. I'd like to think my convincing arguments ultimately persuaded Emma to accept the role, but I believe it was a call from Bryce that sealed the deal. He told Emma that his friend had a home near their filming location that would be available for rent during the summer months—a three-bedroom house by a lake. Knowing she could have the kids close while she worked convinced Emma to take on the project.
“What are you thinking about?” Emma asks.
“You’re right.”
Emma grins. “Am I?”
“You don’t have to gloat.”
A chuckle passes through Emma’s lips. She leans in and kisses me. “It will be wonderful,” she says. “It will also get hard and stressful, and we’ll have our share of bumps. I know that. But I feel it, Addy.”
I nod.
“This is right for us—for our family.”
I feel the power of Emma’s confidence course through me. She’s right—again. This film with Bryce dropped into her lap out of nowhere. Everything seemed to align perfectly. Spending the summer in Connecticut will also give us an opportunity to find a house. Maybe the reason I feel a little nervous is that I want to make this move so badly. It’s hard for me to believe it, but I’m more excited about the prospect of launching Domesticated than I was Off Screen.
Emma senses what I’m thinking. And I think she feels similarly. Sometimes the ghosts of my past creep into my head. I was so excited to start a new adventure when I left for college—scared but hopeful. I looked forward to sharing every part of my journey with my mom. Losing her not long after I left home devasted me. It also created a sense of fear in me of disaster swooping in just when everything seems to be going my way. More than anyone, Emma has helped me navigate those worries. She accepts that we never know what will greet us in the next minute. It’s not that Emma doesn’t have fears, but she possesses a deep faith—not religion—faith. She puts her trust in me, our marriage, family, friends, and herself. Me? I know I should have more faith in myself. I have faith in her and that our family can endure anything. She would say we’ve given faith to each other. I do know my love for Emma and our children is bigger than any fear could ever be. Emma has a wonderful way of looking at life.
“Change is inevitable, Addy. It might not always be a happy occasion, but we can always find purpose in it.”
How could I not love Emma? Yes. Our lives are changing again. One thing I am confident about is launching the new show.
Jeff hit the ground running with my pilot for Domesticated. He’s developed a terrific pitch deck, and he’s already gotten positive feedback—without any formal meetings. The announcement that Emma was taking over Monica’s role in this new movie has garnered a lot of excitement. It’s like the universe is telling us this is what is meant to happen, and we need to make the leap. The last time I felt an impending change this powerfully was the day Emma spilled her coffee on me.
“Addy?”
“You are right. I feel it, too.”
“I know,” Emma says.
“I was thinking about the best day of my life when you walked in.”
“Oh?”
“Mm. I was thinking how many of those I’ve had since I met you.”
“Addy.”
“It’s true, Em. And I know you’re right; things will get messy, too.” I look into Emma’s eyes, and the ground beneath me shifts—or maybe it’s something inside me clicking firmly into place. I kiss her softly and chuckle.
“What?” she asks.
“It’s a good thing we both love coffee.”
Emma’s roar of laughter filters through the house.
“Ahhheeemmm,” Vicki clears her throat.
“Yes?” Emma asks.
“Why are you guys kissing in my room?”
Emma winks at me and turns to our daughter.
“Mom! No way. No!”
“Come on,” Emma runs after Vicki. “Come here. I’ll give you a big birthday kiss!”
“Mom!”
I walk into the hallway and shake my head.
“Momma!” Noah calls out through a fit of giggles.
“Save us!” Hannah yells.
Emma must have them all cornered.
“Mom!” Vicki groans, but the delight underneath her protest is evident.
Nine-years-old. I turn back and look at Vicki’s room again. Something tells me we’ll watch the pictures on the walls change in a different house. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.
“Momma!”
I guess it’s time for me to save them—or Emma.
TWO WEEKS LATER
It’s silly. Emma and I have spent weeks apart many times. It never gets easier. I hate kissing her goodbye.
“I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,” Emma says.
I sigh. “I’m pathetic.”
“No. I hate being apart from you and the kids.”
“I know.”
“But think about the welcome you’ll get in two weeks,” she says.
“Maybe I should see if your mom will come with us to Connecticut,” I say.
“Why?”
“I could meet you in your trailer.”
Emma shakes her head affectionately. “Hoping to slip in between scenes?”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Addison!”
“You said it, not me.”
“You are such a teenage boy sometimes.”
“Em, I think when it comes to you, most people’s inner teenage boy comes out.”
Emma laughs. “You’re in love.”
“Completely. I’ll miss you, Em.”
“I’ll miss you, too. I’ll call you when I get there.”
“Emma?”
Emma holds a finger up to tell her dad to give her a minute. She steps into my arms and kisses me soundly. “Thank you,” she says.
“Why are you thanking me?”
“I think you know. For giving me so many of the best days of my life.”
Emma’s words bring a smile to my lips. I kiss her goodbye and open her car door.
“See you soon,” she says.
I close the door when she slips into her seat, step back, and wave as her dad pulls out of our driveway. Two weeks?
THE NEXT WEEK
Vicki’s forehead wrinkles as she focuses on the baking tray. I join her at the counter, examining the burnt lumps of what should have been cookies. “How come your mom’s cookies always turn out perfect?” I ask, trying not to sound defeated.
Vicki lets out a sigh and shrugs. “I think you left them in too long.”
“But the recipe said ten minutes!” I protest.
She shakes her head. “I dunno. Maybe we should buy some instead.”
My heart sinks at the thought. “No way. I promised to make cookies for the bake sale on the last day of school.”
“Mom was supposed to make them,” Vicki reminds me. “But she’s not here. Just buy some from the store.”
I stare sadly at the burnt cookies on the counter, feeling defeated. “It’s like that stupid souffle all over again.”
Vicki gives me a confused look. “Huh?”
“Forget it,” I grumble.
“Why don’t you call Grandma?” Vicki suggests with a mischievous glint in her eye. “She makes the best cookies.”
I pick up one of the chocolate chip cookies and try to break it in half, but it’s harder than a rock. Frustrated, I press harder, but it doesn’t budge. Vicki bursts into uproarious laughter, doubling over and holding her sides as tears of amusement stream down her face.
“What on earth is going on in my kitchen?”
I spin around to see Emma standing there with a confused expression.
“Em?”
“Last I checked,” she says as she places her bag on the floor. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Mom! Thank God!” Vicki exclaims.
I grumble under my breath again.
Emma arches a brow at me. “Do I even want to ask?”
“Mom tried to make cookies,” Vicki explains with a smirk.
Emma steps closer and peers over my shoulder at the failed baking attempt on the counter. “I see.”
“Can you make them?” Vicki asks Emma.
“Well, I could if you called Grandma and asked her to bring me some cookie sheets.”
“Okay,” Vicki agrees.
I shake my head and mutter a few curses under my breath.
“It’s no big deal,” Vicki tries to comfort me. “You do other stuff.” She looks up at Emma and smiles. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“Mm, happy to save your bake sale, Vicki,” Emma says with a chuckle.
“Me too,” Vicki says as she hugs Emma before leaving the kitchen.
Emma turns back to me and wraps her arms around my neck, kissing me softly. “Mm,” she hums against my lips. “You sampled the cookie dough.”
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for fear of salmonella, I would have sent a bowl of that to the bake sale instead.”
“Why didn’t you ask Mom to bake?” Emma asks.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Because it always happens like this when I try to do something in the kitchen.”
“Honey, it’s just cookies.”
“No, it’s not,” I say, feeling frustrated.
Emma tries to calm me down. “Okay?”
“When I’m not here, you handle everything the kids need just fine,” I remind her.
“That’s not true, Addy.”
“Oh yes, it is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“I suck. This bake sale is a big deal to Vicki. I can’t bake to save my life.”
“Also not true. Remember when you made banana bread a few weeks ago, and everyone loved it? And how many things were you juggling when you tried to do this?”
“A few,” I admit, feeling a little embarrassed.
Emma raises an eyebrow at me.
“Okay, fine. A lot,” I confess. “My cookies never come out right.”
“You haven’t even attempted to bake cookies in ten years,” Emma reminds me. “And you know how it goes. You expect them to burn, so they do.”
“I didn’t manifest the Cookie Massacre, Em,” I say, finally finding a hint of humor in my predicament.
“See? It’s not that bad.”
“I’m glad you’re home. I can’t believe you’re home. Don’t tell me you came just to save the bake sale?”
“No, but I’m happy to help,” Emma replies.
“I thought we planned to be together in Connecticut this weekend?”
“We will be together in Connecticut this weekend, and we’ll be making the trip as a family.” Emma smiles. “Addy, this isn’t only Vicki’s last day of school for the year. It’s her last day of school in Kansas for the foreseeable future. I would never miss something so important to one of our kids unless it was an emergency. Never.”
“You’re up to something.”
“No,” Emma says. “I did hear from someone last night, though.”
“Oh?”
“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”
“Who?” I ask.
“Don Bellson.”
“Bellson called you?”
Emma nods and I can see a grin beginning to curl her lips.
“What about Don?” Don Bellson worked for the studio, which opted Off Screen. He was a serious pain in my ass at times, but I have to admit, he had great instincts, and most of his ideas improved the show. He accepted a position last year at one of the largest streaming networks that produces original content. I can only think of two reasons he would call Emma.
“You know he’s a Senior VP at?—”
“I know. What did he want?”
“He wants to fund Domesticated.”
I sit shell-shocked.
“Addy?”
“Domesticated isn’t really their market, is it?”
“He thinks it is their market. And he also thinks it will give you a little more freedom with the show.”
Don Bellson and the word freedom in the same sentence makes me chuckle.
“Addy, he was sincere. It’s a different ballgame these days than it was eleven years ago.”
“I know. Do you really think he wants to work with me again?”
“Different dynamic, love. We have to bring our A-game. It’s a season-to-season renewal, and I think he’s looking at 8 to 12 hour-long episodes, not 20 to 22.”
I lean against the counter. “Seriously?”
Emma nods.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Holy shit! Jeff will freak!”
Emma laughs. “He’s going to call you tomorrow.”
“Me? Why not Jeff?”
“Because, Addy, Don has always respected you. You came up with this idea. More than that, he likes you.”
I howl. “He likes you.”
“Yes,” Emma concedes. “But he’s always liked you, Addy. Believe me.”
“You think we should take an offer.”
“I think Don can be a son of a bitch at times,” Emma said. “But he knows the business and doesn’t bet on a project unless he intends to go all-in on it. He’ll help make the show better. I believe that—so do you.”
“And?”
“And I like the idea of limited seasons. It opens a door for Christie. And, Addy? It would be best for our family, too. If you can get an agreement signed, I think you should—yes.”
“Don Bellson,” I muse.
“Mm.”
Suddenly, I feel 100 pounds lighter. “It’s going to happen,” I say.
Emma smiles. She believes it, too.
“I guess that means we’re really moving,” I say.
“I guess so.”
“How do you feel about making this move?”
“It feels a little like when I found out we were having Vicki,” Emma says.
“How so?”
“Exciting, overwhelming, and scary as hell,” she replies.
I laugh.
“But I know it’ll amazing. I know it.”
I pull Emma to me and kiss her. “Thank you.”
“For?”
“Everything, Em.”
Emma caresses my cheek and looks back at the cookie debacle. “I’m just sorry I wasn’t here in time to save them.” She looks back at me with a smirk, and I laugh.
“Aw, what the hell. We’ll keep them.”
“Keep the cookies?” she asks.
“Sure. I’ll have them delivered to Bellson when he pisses me off. At least he won’t get food poisoning. Dentures, maybe."
Emma silences me with a kiss. “I love you,” she says.
“I love you too, Em. More than anything.”