Chapter Twenty-Five
CECE
CeCe curled on the couch, reading beneath the light of the table lamp, Spock snuggled up beside her.
When Jayce handed her his script after the Bare Feet one she hadn’t been privy to before now.
Spock cocked his head in curiosity.
“I don’t even know how to explain it to you,” she confessed. “It sort of defies genre. It’s romance meets drama meets magical realism. Fun, quirky, and profoundly moving.”
Spock gazed up at her, unblinking, as if he expected more.
CeCe sighed. “Okay, I’ll try to summarize the plot as best as I can, but you really have to read it to fully grasp the emotional nuances.”
Spock hissed, pointing out the obvious: He couldn’t read.
“You’re right. Sorry. That was insensitive.” She scratched behind his ears in apology. “So, the main character, Chloe, owns a café, where she lives and works.”
Spock’s floppy ears twitched at that little tidbit.
CeCe smiled. “I know what you’re thinking.
It sounds familiar. And I’m sure I inspired the character a little, but I see parts of Jayce in Chloe, too.
” And she suspected he’d infused even more of himself into the character than she even realized.
At least, the depth of emotion poured onto the page felt too real and profound to be entirely make-believe.
“Chloe experienced some pretty serious trauma in her past,” she explained, doing her best to recap the story succinctly.
“And one day, she tells her quirky employee, Alvera, that she longs to live a simple, uncomplicated life, protected from everything—and every one —that could potentially lead to heartbreak. At the time, Chloe doesn’t think anything of the conversation.
But the next morning, strange things start happening around the café. ”
Spock sits up on his haunches, apparently intrigued.
“Overnight, Chloe’s wish came true. Everything in her life falls into place like a flawless recipe. No complications. No messiness. No cause for heartache or angst. And she couldn’t be happier. At first .”
Spock mewed, as if he knew what came next.
“Exactly. Nothing perfect lasts forever, right?” CeCe crossed her legs beneath her and leaned forward with the script on her lap, relishing her role as storyteller to her enraptured audience. “One day, a hunky stranger comes into the café, and they immediately hit it off.”
Spock mewed again, only this time in annoyance.
“I know you’re not a fan of the mushy stuff, but this is where the story gets really interesting.
” She lowered her voice, laying on the theatrics.
“As Chloe and Justin fall in love, the spell over the café starts glitching. Things go awry. Small things, at first. But the more time she spends with Justin, the more her life returns to normal, as it was before the protective spell. I just reached the part in the script where Chloe realizes she has a decision. She’ll either choose love and break the spell forever, risking potential heartache again.
Or she’ll end things with Justin, thus restoring the spell and her haven of safety within the walls of her magical café. ”
Spock crawled closer and nudged the script in her lap.
CeCe laughed. “See, I knew you’d be interested in how things turn out.” She flipped back to where she’d left off, then frowned. “Wait. This can’t be right. Where’s the rest?” She turned the page only to find a blank sheet of paper stapled to the back of the script.
She scanned the white space over and over as if she could summon the words onto the page by staring hard enough. That couldn’t be the ending. There had to be more. Did Chloe choose love, with all its inherent risks, or self-preservation?
Her heart pounded, and suddenly anxious, she sprang from the couch. “It’s just a story. A fictional story,” she said aloud, pacing the carpet. “Maybe Jayce forgot the last page. Or maybe he wants it to be one of those movies where the viewer decides the ending for themselves?”
Ugh . She hoped not. How could she choose an ending for Chloe when she couldn’t answer the thematic question of the film for her own life?
Was love worth the pain?
Did the good outweigh the bad?
Or was it better to remain alone?
Because, based on watching her mother all these years, love wasn’t a cure for loneliness anyway.