I nod, the tears falling down my cheeks faster than I can blot them now. People are looking, but I don’t care.
“I’m an idiot.”
My friend shakes her head.
“No, you’re not. It’s natural because Jared spoils you, and makes you feel important and respected, which is not something we experience that often in our line of work. So it happens,” she says. “It’s just … well, what are you going to do about it?”
I pause, still wiping my cheeks.
“I don’t know, but here’s the kicker Petunia,” I say, wishing I didn’t have to admit this part. “I like Jared — like for real like him. He’s funny and asshole-ish and smart all at the same time. He’s the best dad to his kid, and honestly, the most generous lover I’ve ever had. It’s stupid, but I am falling hard. God, I’m such a dunce.”
Pet looks thoughtful.
“Does he know?”
I shrug bitterly.
“I hope not. Hell, I didn’t even know myself until five minutes ago.”
Pet nods.
“Well, maybe he’s falling for you too.”
I shoot a sad look at her.
“I doubt it. I mean, like you said, Jared’s paying me to leave when this is all over. It turns out Charlie Sheen was right all along, huh?” I remark in a bitter tone. “Maybe Charlie really did deserve millions of dollars for Two and a Half Men because it turns out he’s pretty smart.”
Petunia is gentle even as her eyes fill with pity.
“I wouldn’t give up, Marcy. You know that sometimes girls like us get happy endings, too,” she says, wrapping one hand over mine. “It can happen.”
I smile at my buddy, but my heart is heavy in my chest
“Yeah maybe,” I say in a soft voice and then leave it at that. After all, I’d like to believe Petunia and her hopeful optimism, but the gnawing feeling in my gut tells me that there’s no happy ending for me. Instead, there’s fifty thousand dollars and maybe a lot more waiting at the end of the rainbow, but will I even want that once this is over and done with? Will that money be enough to mend a broken heart? I sniffle again and then sip at my latte. I already know that it won’t, but unfortunately, I’m not a girl with many choices, and I have to play the hand I’ve been dealt.
9
Jared
* * *
“I love pizza!” my daughter squeaks, jumping up and down between Marcy and me. “I’m so excited, wheeee!”
Over the top of Vivi’s head, I lock eyes with Marcy. “Thanks for indulging my demanding child,” I tell her, rolling my eyes. “Sorry date night ended up being date plus a kid night.”
But my woman merely smiles sweetly, squeezing Vivi’s tiny hand in her own. “Don’t be sorry at all. You know I like hanging out with Vi. Maybe even more than I like hanging out with you,” she says with a mischievous wink. My heart contracts because this woman gets me, and I can’t believe how lucky I am. Marcy and Vivi together? It’s a dream.
We stroll over to a large table in the pizza parlor, flanked by two cozy red booths on either side.
“I want to sit next to Marcy,” Vivi insists, sliding onto one of the large seats.
“Is that okay?” I ask Marcy.
“Better than okay because I wanted to sit next to Vivi too,” Marcy says, sliding into the seat next to my daughter and tickling her lightly on the cheek. Vivi giggles and does another little bounce, and my heart swells at the image of these two showing so much affection for one another. But I don’t dwell on the feeling because I’m not ready to yet. I can feel the ground shifting beneath my feet, but they’re still small tremors at the moment. Yet I know it’s coming, and that something Earth-shattering is going to upend my life as I know it.
But it’s okay because with Marcy by my side, I know I can weather any crazy changes. Besides, how bad could it be? At that moment, a waiter brings over menus, so we turn our attention to dinner.
“Viv, sweetheart, they have your favorite— pepperoni and black olives,” I growls. My daughter squeals, her black pigtails bouncing.
“I love olives! Do you like olives, Marcy?”
The curvy brunette nods enthusiastically. “Yes, definitely. Black olives on pizza are the best,” she agrees. “What do you think about black olives, Jared?” Marcy asks with a wink.
I hold up my hands and wave them defensively. “Not for me, no way. You ladies enjoy them.”
Vivi sighs contentedly. “Black olives for us, and none for Daddy,” she chortles. “Yay! I love you, Marcy.”
Both of us laugh easily because it seems like Vivi says that every time she sees the curvy girl now, but I like it. It makes us feel like a family and it’s very natural too. There’s nothing awkward or uncomfortable about proclaiming our love for one another. And now, looking at the two girls in my life giggling with their heads close together, I know I did the right thing by hiring Marcy.