Page 23 of Marriage & Mockery

He nodded. “That’s all Julian since he found Collette for me.”

I liked that he didn’t take the credit for himself. It seemed like he really was setting his ego aside, at least for now. Which only made me think of the man I’d fallen in love with so many years ago, before the fame that came with his success. I missed that version of him so much right now.

Picking up the cracked gear, I dropped it into the open body of the peppermill, then folded the corners of the dish towel over the whole mess.

I didn’t look up at him as I confessed, “I keep thinking about all the other things.”

“What other things?” he asked.

“Each little habit. Every ridiculous comment I made in front of you. All the times I did something silly.” I gathered the tiny screwdriver and set it on top of the bundled towel. “I don’t know which ones you used. But I’m not even sure I want to because it will probably hurt more to know which pieces of me you’ve chosen to mock.”

He opened his mouth, probably to deny that was what he’d done. Maybe it wasn’t what he’d intended, but it was the outcome. That couldn’t be denied with all the memes, GIFs, and articles out there about me on the internet right now.

He caught my irritated look, and his lips pressed into a flat line before a word slipped past. It was one of the smartest decisions he’d made lately.

I carried the towel to the trash can and tipped the broken set in. The salt grinder went next.

“I can live with being angry about the speech and all the public chatter, as painful as it is. What I don’t know how to live with is wondering whether something small that I wouldn’t have thought twice about before has already been turned into a joke the world has laughed about.” I wiped my hands on my pants and finally glanced at him. “And if it hasn’t, how much longer will it be before you use it?”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

Quirking a brow, I crossed my arms over my chest again and waited.

“When I was at the studio this morning reviewing the rough cut of the episode we just shot, I made a promise. Nothing of yours goes into another script. Not for Sally. Or any other character I ever write. It ends now.”

I studied his face and realized he was serious. “Your promises don’t mean a whole lot to me right now.”

“This one was to myself as much as it was to you,” he added, as though the distinction made all the difference.

I didn’t know if I believed him or not, and that hurt because he’d been my safe place for so long. But for the first time since his speech, I realized that I wanted to. And that scared me even more.

13

BENNETT

Sunday was awkward as hell. Even more than when Laina’s mom walked in on us getting hot and heavy back when we were just dating. Knowing my wife couldn’t stand to be near me was hard as fuck, but I’d earned it.

So I stayed out of her way, mostly working on script outlines in my home office with the door half-closed. I cut a Sally sequence that was inspired by Laina and made a note to work on it today. Which was bound to be interesting because I had no doubt every writer in the room would see the statement that would be released in ten minutes.

I was in the kitchen rinsing my cup when Lucy came down, already dressed and carrying her backpack. “Shelly’s mom is picking me up early for a project. I have practice after school, and Mom said she’d pick me up.”

“Okay. Text me if anything changes.”

She grabbed a yogurt and a small bottle of pressed juice, hesitated like she might say more, then just nodded and headed for the door. “Bye.”

“Bye, kiddo.”

After the front door closed, I stood in the quiet kitchen a moment longer. There was no noise coming from upstairs now that Lucy had left. I hoped that meant Laina was sleeping in because then she would’ve gotten rest while I tossed and turned all night.

I made her another iced latte and put the tumbler in the fridge, leaving a similar note on the counter so she knew to look for it. Then I grabbed my keys and left.

I kept the radio off during the drive, contemplating what the reactions might be when I got to the writers’ room. The statement was out there now, but I resisted the urge to check. Julian knew what he was doing, and I trusted him to get the job done.

The writers on my team will see it soon. So would the network executives.

Some would understand what I was trying to do. Others would only care about what it meant for the upcoming season’s promotional plans. To avoid the clutter of competing debut shows, the network had given us an early October spot for our season premiere. This had also allowed them to run ads pushing the award-winning angle across their channels to maximize the hype and draw in new viewers, which had already started last week.

My statement could send those new viewers running or draw even more in. But I couldn’t afford to care because it needed to be done. I’d deal with the outcome, whatever it was. The important thing was that the plan to protect Laina was now in motion.