It was strange, standing in front of the beach house and feeling like it was his, but knowing it was only Marissa’s now. Marissa’s and her new fiancé’s.
He’d told himself when he moved out that he would never be back, but it turned out his health insurance didn’t care about his vows to himself. They kept sending his mail to the beach house. Marissa had offered to drop them by his apartment, along with a crystal vase his mother had given them for their first anniversary, but he’d balked at the idea of having her see his depressing Divorce Guy apartment—and since he hadn’t been house-hunting since things went sideways with Sidney, he was still living the crappy life.
He’d thought this would be better, salvaging what was left of his pride, but seeing his old place might be worse.
He missed it.
Not just the house, but the life. The way living here had made him feel.
Pulling into this driveway had always made him feel like he had it all. He’d loved his life—far more than he’d loved Marissa, if he was honest.
He walked up to the front door and pressed the doorbell, a sense of disorientation swamping him as waited, listening for footsteps on the other side of the door. Instead he heard the sound of the surf and got caught up remembering a thousand nights standing on the back deck, listening to the waves and feeling like he had the world on a string.
He knew she was expecting him, but he was so caught in nostalgia he was surprised when the door popped open suddenly and there she was. Marissa.
Still petite and gorgeous, with her hair flowing over her shoulders in dark brown waves.
He struggled for something to say. “Hi.” TV’s Josh Pendleton, ladies and gentleman. Always smooth and suave.
“Hi.” She smiled tentatively up at him. “Come in.” She waved him into the foyer, radiating the same discomfort he felt. “I’ll just, ah, get the box with your stuff.”
She disappeared through the arch toward his den while he hovered awkwardly in the foyer, trying not to feel a sense of possession for the house that still felt like his down to his bones. He’d thought he was going to raise his children here, that they would have their thirtieth wedding anniversary party down on the beach. He’d been wrong about a lot of things.
“Here it is,” she announced as she reentered the room, carrying a small cardboard box with the logo of an online retailer on the side. “Everything should be in there. The letters look important, so…”
He took the box from her. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Of course! It’s the least I could… you know.”
He nodded, hitching the box up uncomfortably, even though it wasn’t heavy or awkwardly shaped. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah!” she said, lunging a little too enthusiastically at the pathetic conversational gambit. Then calming herself down several notches she repeated, “Yeah. You?”
“Good,” he confirmed, nodding. “Place looks nice. Different.”
She’d redecorated since he moved out. Nothing major. Things that only the two of them would have noticed, but he realized almost instantly that he shouldn’t have commented on it. What little comfort she’d gained during their chit-chat vanished and she grimaced uneasily.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No, don’t apologize. I’m sorry this is so weird.”
It could have been a lot worse, he realized. A few months ago, it probably would have been. He wasn’t sure what had changed. He still missed his old life, missed it hard, but the grief wasn’t so fresh anymore and he felt like he could actually mean what he was about to say.
“I am sorry. About the way things turned out.” He hadn’t handled the divorce well. Hadn’t handled much of the marriage well, if he was being honest. “Did you hate me?”
“No. It would have been easier if I did.” She grimaced. “Do you hate me?”
“No. I was mad at you for a long time though.” Not anymore, he realized. He wasn’t sure when that had stopped. Or maybe it had just receded for a while, like the tide, held at bay by his current bout of nostalgia.
“I didn’t sleep with him until we were officially separated, if that makes any difference.”
Maybe it should have made it better, but it didn’t. Somehow knowing that she hadn’t been technically unfaithful when she met and fell in love with another guy while still married to him didn’t change a damn thing about how he felt about it. He still hated it.
But he was having a harder time blaming her than he used to. Strange that being back here at the house he had loved more than his wife made him wonder if he’d ever been any good as a husband.
“Was I a bad husband all along?”
Marissa looked pained by the question. “No. You were great… and horrible.”
She didn’t need to explain more. He knew exactly what she meant. He’d loved the idea of being married, just like he loved the idea of his perfect life, but he hadn’t been good at being there for her. He’d excelled at the big romantic gestures—the MMP-style stuff—but when it came to the minutia of the day to day, he’d mentally checked out.
“We were just wrong for each other,” Marissa said, giving him a free pass he wasn’t sure he deserved. Though she wasn’t entirely innocent either.
He stopped that thought before it could veer into bitterness. At least they weren’t snarling at each other anymore. They were never going to be one of those couples who became friends after their divorce. Seeing her was always going to be awkward and complicated—but it wasn’t as bad as he’d imagined it might be.
“I should get going.”
“Right,” she agreed, a little too quickly. “I really hope things go well for you, Josh.”
“Yeah. You too.”
* * * * *
Autopilot took Josh halfway to Eden before he realized he was on his way to see Sidney—and she probably wouldn’t want to see him. His convertible was almost on empty, so he pulled into a gas station to fill up and get his head clear.
It was Tuesday. He should head down to Flannigan’s and meet the guys. He should sign his contracts and drop them at Harry’s place so his agent would stop calling him. He should do any number of things, but all he wanted was to see her. Or at least talk to her on the phone.
He wanted to tell her about his elaborately staged break-up with Olga—just to see if he could make her laugh. She was the only one with whom he wanted to talk about seeing Marissa again—and see the understanding in her teal eyes. He needed to make sure she was okay after the Veil list skipped over Once Upon a Bride—he’d stalked that damn website for weeks, waiting to see if she would hit the list.
He just wanted to hear her voice—and if he wasn’t supposed to be seeing her and he wasn’t supposed to have feelings for her—well, fuck that.
Josh pulled out his cell phone. Harry answered on the third ring.
“Josh! Did you sign yet?”
“I can’t sign them, Harry.”
“I don’t think we’re going to get more money by waiting—”
“I need them to rewrite the morality clause.”
That shut Harry up. “What?”
“I’m going to date a former Suitorette—” If she would have him. “—and I’d like you to make it so I’m not in breach of contract by doing so. Have a good night, Harry.”
He hung up before his agent could argue and immediately dialed another number.
Sidney’s phone connected on the first ring—but it wasn’t Sidney’s voice saying icily, “She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
The line was dead before could say a word.
Girls Night In.
She was with her friends and using them as a shield. But the wedding festivities began on Friday. She’d have to see him then. He could wait three days, but then they were going to talk.
He didn’t know if he could be any woman’s Prince Charming, but Sidney made him want to try. He wasn’t giving up yet.