by Tawna Fenske
He took another sip of water and wondered if he was supposed to add to this conversation or just let Viv talk.
“Anyway,” she continued, “when it came time for her to do the real pitch, Kate pulled out all the stops. Every persuasive technique she used, every communication strategy—it was straight out of my books. It’s like she was not only making her case for why I should do the show, but why I should pick her to produce it.”
“That must have been flattering.”
“Yes. Well. That’s Kate for you. Knows exactly what buttons to push to make things happen. I admire her tremendously for that.”
Jonah nodded, searching his ex-wife’s face for a bigger sign of that admiration. It was there, of course. But so was something else. Something Jonah couldn’t quite put a finger on.
“Oh!” Viv clapped her hands together and stood up. “I almost forgot—I bought some of those sourdough scones you used to love so much. The ones we used to eat with the honey butter? They’re staying warm in the oven right now. Let me go grab those.”
She bustled out before Jonah could argue that he wasn’t in the mood for scones. That he wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened in that conversation, but he knew he probably shouldn’t let his guard down. Not with Viv, not with anyone, really.
He glanced at his watch and wondered how much longer he had to wait before Kate would arrive. She’d texted this morning when he was in the shower, and Jonah had read the message while standing naked on the bathmat dripping water onto the screen.
Don’t stress about what to wear today, she’d written, even though Jonah had been doing no such thing. Jeans and a T-shirt are fine. Or long-sleeved flannel. Or solid. Just no busy prints.
Jonah had smiled to himself and typed a response before winding a towel around his waist. You mean I’m not required to be shirtless like I am when I walk dogs?
There had been a long pause, and Jonah wondered if he’d crossed a line. When her response popped up, he’d laughed out loud.
LOL! Camera crew has been discussing what you’d look like shirtless and whether you’d do it for TV. They didn’t believe me when I said I witnessed it firsthand. Kinda wish I’d nabbed a photo of you at the park.
He’d hesitated, not wanting to read too much into that. But hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t parade around shirtless all the time. He’d aimed his phone camera at the mirror, careful not to shoot anything but his torso. Fired off a couple of shots, then glanced at the screen, making sure he hadn’t gone too low or captured his messy bathroom counter.
Then he’d pulled up his text exchange with Kate, attached an image, and hit “Send” before he had a chance to change his mind.
Holy shit!!! Kate had texted back less than two seconds later. You just made my morning.
Before Jonah could respond, she followed up with another message.
I meant that in a purely professional way. OMG. The camera crew will be delighted. That’s assuming it’s okay to share?
Share away, he’d written back, feeling a weird mixture of pride, embarrassment, and longing.
“Here we go!” Viv swept back into the room and presented the scones with a dramatic flourish. She set down a small stack of plates in varying hues of yellow and robin’s-egg blue, along with a small white bowl of honey butter with a tiny spoon in it.
“Thanks,” Jonah mumbled as he helped himself to a scone. He felt awkward and out of sorts. Part of him wanted to be guarded about any show of kindness from his ex-wife. Hadn’t that always come with a price before?
But part of him—the part he really wanted to embrace—felt like a jerk for not giving her the benefit of the doubt. They’d be working together, after all. Maybe he should make more of an effort to mend fences.
He slathered butter on his scone and tried to come up with a suitable olive branch. “Thanks for being gracious about this,” he said. “I don’t mean the scones.” He cleared his throat and looked at her, noticing she wore a guarded expression. “I know it wasn’t your idea to have me as part of the show. I know deep down, it probably pisses you off that the network insisted on dragging me into this.”
There was a flicker of something in her eyes. He watched in that split second she wavered between denying any angst and acknowledging that yeah, she was mad as fuck.
She settled for a tight nod. “Thank you.” She lifted her water glass. “Here’s to making the best of things, even when they don’t work out the way we expected.”
“Cheers to that,” Jonah agreed.
It was probably the last time they’d be agreeing on much for a while. If the network got what they wanted, Viv and Jonah would be at each other’s throats for the foreseeable future. It’s how they seemed to want this show to go.
Across the table, Viv picked up a scone and began the delicate process of slathering it with honey butter. “Anything you want to discuss before all the network people start showing up?” she asked. “I don’t imagine we’ll have much time after this for private conversation.”
She probably meant the show. About casting or protocol or what sort of boundaries they wanted to set.
But what came out of his mouth had nothing to do with the show. “Why did you give up?”
Viv’s mouth opened and closed, then opened again. It was clear she hadn’t expected the question. Hell, Jonah was surprised by it himself.
“On our marriage, you mean?”
Jonah he gave a tight nod, then took a bite of his scone. He chewed for a long time, trying to formulate his next words a little better than he’d formed the question. “I’m not asking because I’m bitter or pissed off or because I’m sitting over here pining for you like some sort of lovesick fuck,” he said. “I think it’s pretty clear we’re both over each other.”
“Certainly.”
Was that sarcasm in her voice? Jonah refused to take the bait, so Viv took a deep breath and set down her scone.
“We had a great four years together,” she said. “Five, if you count the year before we married. Truly, I thought we’d stay together forever. Eventually, though—”
“You lost feelings for me?”
There was a hard edge to the question, and Jonah hoped she heard it the right way. Not as an accusation, but as a shared joke.
“In our case, it wasn’t code for I’m boning someone else, as you so eloquently put it.” Viv looked down at her scone. “I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
She looked up at him, and the earnestness in her expression made his chest feel tight. “I’m not fucking with you,” he said. “I believe you when you say there wasn’t anyone else.”
“Thank you.”
“But can you tell me what it was?”
She was quiet a long time, and Jonah wondered why he’d never had the balls to press for answers before. Sure, they’d talked about it. When she’d asked for the divorce, she’d buried him in piles of psych-sounding words about the evolution of feelings and the inherent challenges of cohabitation.
But he’d never flat-out asked why.
“I guess when you get married for such a fragile reason, there’s always a risk.”
“When you get married for sex?”
The corner of her mouth tipped up just a little, but she didn’t smile. “Love,” she said. “I did love you, of course. But we humans have so little control over who we fall in love with in the first place. That also makes us powerless against falling out of love.” She bit her lip. “Obviously you can work at it. That’s what I teach people, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured, though he couldn’t help noticing she’d framed it as an afterthought.
“But there’s only so much you can force. The human heart is a fickle thing. It stands to reason that a love-based marriage is just as fickle.”
He started to argue. To insist there were plenty of strategies for staying in love. Plenty of books said how to do it—hell, Viv’s own books went on about it endlessly.
But the truth was, he did
n’t disagree. Not completely, anyway.
Which was a pretty damn good reason he planned to avoid the whole love-and-marriage mess in the future.
Jonah picked up his scone and took a bite. It was probably time to end this line of conversation. Hell, he probably shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place. It was just that he’d never gotten answers before.
Maybe this show was his ticket to closure and forgiveness.
“So are we good now?” Viv asked.
Her voice was oddly small, and Jonah felt a stab of guilt followed by a flicker of anger, which just pissed him off. At what point did exes stop having the power to jerk your emotions around like a paddleball?
“We’re good,” he said, and took another bite of scone.
They didn’t say anything for several minutes, both feigning intense interest in their pastries. When Viv’s voice broke the silence, Jonah nearly jumped off the couch.
“Here they are!”
She bounded out of her chair like it was on fire, dusting nonexistent scone crumbs off her shirt.
Jonah glanced toward the front window and watched a nondescript sedan pull into Viv’s circular driveway. He looked at Kate behind the wheel, her dark hair slicked back from her face and held tight at the nape of her neck with a silver clasp. Her fingers were long and graceful on the steering wheel, and he remembered what they’d felt like tunneling through his hair.
His heart did a stupid little shiver in the center of his chest, and he hoped to God Viv wasn’t looking at him. He turned away, annoyed with himself, and took a fierce bite of scone.
Kate walked into the makeshift hair-and-makeup studio and glanced at the clock on the wall. They had fifteen minutes before the crew would start to get cranky, and Elena still had half of her head covered with hot rollers.
Ginger, the hair and makeup artist, glanced at Kate and gave a nervous smile. “Sorry. I know we’re running behind, but we had a little flatiron mishap. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t,” Kate assured her, though she did sort of wonder. “You’re not making her look dramatically different from yesterday, are you?”
“Relax. She’ll still look like the same person from the B-roll footage. Just a little glammed up for the in-studio shots, that’s all.”
Lead cameraman Pete Waller lumbered into the room, looking like a kindly grizzly bear in a khaki vest. “Ladies.” He set a cardboard drink holder on the dressing table and nodded to Kate. “Hot chocolate,” he said. “Figured I’d grab some for you before the lugheads on my crew started filling their thermoses.”
“You’re a lifesaver.” Kate picked up a paper cup and peeled back the lid to blow inside. “Oh my God, I love you. There’s whipped cream and cinnamon.”
Pete nodded, then turned to look at Elena in the mirror. Scratching his beard, he studied her with a thoughtful expression. “When you and your husband go out to the sunroom to talk about how the day went, we’re gonna have cameras stashed all over,” he said. “Just act natural and have a normal conversation. But don’t say anything you wouldn’t want on TV.”
Elena nodded and gave him a nervous smile. “Thank you.”
Pete grunted and walked out of the room. Kate took a sip of cocoa, grateful they’d landed him for this show. He’d worked on some of the most scandalous reality TV programs in the business, but there were lines he wouldn’t cross. Filming people without their knowledge was one of them, not even when participants had signed ridiculously broad agreements like the ones required for this show.
“Kate! There you are!”
She turned to see Amy hustling into the room, her blond curls a bit more disheveled than normal. “Craft services wants to know if they can set up lunch in the kitchen or if we need to shoot in there.”
“That’s fine, we’re not doing the cooking sequence until late afternoon or maybe tomorrow.” She glanced at her watch again as her nerves jittered in time with the second hand. “Are Viv and Jonah ready to go?”
“Jonah’s been sitting in the parlor reading for at least an hour,” she said. “I think Viv’s meditating or something.”
“She’d better not mess up her hair,” Ginger muttered as she unfurled a hot roller from Elena’s head and finger-combed the fresh waves.
“Okay.” Kate took a deep breath, tamping down the butterflies that threatened to surge up her throat. “Did the sound guys fix whatever was wrong with that boom mike?”
“No, but they had a spare. Oh! And we got Sam to cry in his side interview, so that’s golden.”
Kate stole a nervous glance at Sam’s wife. Elena seemed unperturbed as Ginger unfastened another roller from her hair. She caught Kate’s eye in the mirror and nodded. “Don’t worry. I can cry on command, too.”
“Right.” Kate took another breath. “It’s important to just be yourself, okay? Let the emotions flow, even if they’re not pretty. Authenticity is key here.”
“The mascara’s bulletproof,” Ginger added helpfully. “Just try not to rub your eyes too much.”
Gripping her cocoa in one hand, Kate edged toward the door. “Will you excuse us a moment?”
She pushed her way into the hall and Amy followed, pulling the door closed behind her. Kate reached down and switched off her two-way radio, then waited for Amy to do the same.
“How does he seem?” Kate whispered.
Amy shrugged. “He’s good. Got a little bristly when the props girl suggested he put down the Ann Patchett novel and read Sports Illustrated instead, but overall I think he’s fine.”
Kate felt a flush of relief, both that Jonah seemed fine and that Amy hadn’t forced her to spell out who “he” was. Then again, maybe that wasn’t a good thing. Was it that transparent Jonah was on her mind?
“How’s Viv?” Kate asked.
“Good. Centered, according to her. She was studying a bunch of notecards when I saw her last. I reemphasized the importance of making sure this sounds unscripted.”
“She’s good at that,” Kate said. “Remember her last appearance on Oprah?”
“She was adorable.”
“Exactly. Just remind her to bring more of that.”
Kate glanced at her watch again and tried not to feel nervous. Today would be their first time shooting with all four players—Viv, Jonah, and the couple they were tasked with helping.
“How’s his cat?”
Kate looked up to see Amy giving her a tiny smirk. It wasn’t a judgmental one, so at least there was that.
But Kate couldn’t afford to have her going doing that path. She shrugged and gave her best look of nonchalance. “Beats me. I haven’t seen Jonah outside work since I went over and talked to him right after the pre-production meeting.”
Technically, that was true. But that didn’t mean they hadn’t texted each other regularly. Sometimes it was all business, sometimes it was flirty, but it definitely toed the line between professional contact and something more.
Last night had been more of the same.
I e-mailed you a new draft of the contract, Kate had texted around 10:00 p.m. as the tub was filling in her hotel bathroom. Have your attorney look at it if you like, but we need signatures by Friday. Also, there’s been a venue change for next Wednesday’s shoot. I’ll forward the info.
She’d finished pouring bubble bath into the tub before climbing in, resting her phone on the edge with a silent prayer of thanks for the invention of the waterproof phone case. She hadn’t expected Jonah to text back, but felt a tiny shiver of pleasure at the new message chime a few seconds later.
Got it. Thx.
Was it wrong to feel disappointed by the brevity? Yes, of course. This was business. They were business colleagues, and they couldn’t afford to be chatty or too friendly.
Even so, excitement fluttered in her belly when the phone buzzed again.
Tell me the truth: Do you ever stop working?
Kate smiled to herself, then texted back.
I’m not working now. I’m actually relaxing.
> There was a brief pause, then a bubble to indicate he was texting back. An image popped up on screen, and Kate clicked to see what it was.
Marilyn, the judgey-eyebrow cat, does not believe you.
Kate laughed at the cutesy meme of his cat, her feline features arranged in a look of perfect skepticism. She stared at the photo a few more seconds, then typed a response.
I promise I am. Look.
She hit the icon for her camera, then aimed it at the beer bottle perched on the edge of the tub. She turned it a little to the side, angling the camera so she could get the words Jamaican Me Pumpkin and 10 Barrel Brewing in the photo, along with a froth of bubbles visible on the edge of the tub.
The second she hit “Send,” she wondered if she should have done it. Would it seem too flirtatious? Had she meant it to be?
Of course not, she reassured herself. You’re just making a friendly connection with a cast member. It’s perfectly innocent.
Which she knew wasn’t true. Knew she’d deliberately slipped one bare leg up through the suds, lending a backdrop of naked flesh to her bathtub beer pic.
But the beer was in the foreground. Maybe that’s all he’d notice.
That looks amazing, Jonah texted back, and Kate had smiled to herself. See? They could do this. Chat about beer like good friends.
Two seconds later, he’d texted again.
The beer looks good, too.
Okay, so he was flirting. She should have put a stop to it. But instead, she’d just lain there in the tub, feeling warm and languorous while soap suds fizzed around her.
“What are you smiling about?”
Amy’s question jolted Kate back to the hallway, where they waited for Elena to emerge from hair and makeup. Kate clawed her way through the recesses of her brain for something that wouldn’t give away her illicit memories.
“This hot chocolate,” she said, lifting the paper cup Pete had given her. “It’s—uh—really good.”
“It must be good if it’s giving you that I-just-had-a-dirty-thought look.”
