I shake my head. “Kim hates me.That’s the last thing she wants.”
“My ex stole money from me to buy drugs,” she says. “I’m no fan of his, but we’ve hooked up a couple times since.”
The father in me wants to tell her what a terrible idea this is, but I’m pretty sure Kelsey isn’t going to listen.The rest of me is returning to all the thoughts of the things I’d like to do to Kim, the things she used to do to me.
She has a rule, though. She doesn’t hook up with co-stars. She broke that rule for me back on the set ofOver It, and I think the way that turned out was enough to ensure that she’s never done it again.
“Yeah, well,” I say. “Kim and I have kids together. We have to be responsible.”
“Right. Because exes with kids never do anything spontaneous.”
I laugh—for real this time—and Kelsey gives me an odd look. I’m remembering the night after the first sex scene Kim and I ever filmed together—the first sex scene I ever filmed at all. We were all up against each other on a lounge chair, naked except for a thong for her and a taped-on plastic “privacy shield” for me. I felt completely exposed, less because of the nudity and the cameras and the director yelling the infamous “Cup it, Blake!” at me, even though I clearly had my hands all over her bare breasts.
More because I was already falling in love with Kim, and touching her, being with her like that—it stirred all kinds of feelings I knew I wasn’t supposed to have. Not with a woman who had already expressed that co-stars tend to confuse their characters’ feelings for their own, and because of that she was never everevergoing to sleep with me.
Then later that night, we went out to eat and laughed off the tension from the day, after which Kim announced that she’d planned for us to go back to her trailer after dinner and have “spontaneous” sex. I mocked her a bit about her definition ofspontaneous, and then we did just that.
“I don’t think it would help,” I say. “Because I’m still in love with her.”
I immediately hate myself for admitting that. Kelsey seems nice, but also chatty enough to spread this news all over the set. Not that the tabloids don’t report it every time one of us dates someone new—complete with pictures of the other glaring in the direction of the new couple photo on the cover—but people I work with generally know better than to believe tabloid news.
A firsthand account is another thing entirely.
“Awww,” Kelsey says. “Are you really?”
I shrug. “No. I’m just being dramatic.”
I think I’m usually a pretty good actor—especially when playing the part of the easygoing ex. It’s been a steady role over the last few years, even if it doesn’t pay.
But I’m apparently off today, because Kelsey ignores my denial. “If you still love her, why don’t you try to get back together?”
“Because there’s a reason we got divorced.”
“Was it the nanny?” Kelsey looks at me with this open expression, like she’s not about to judge the answer. She just wants to know.
I’m clearly too upset to make judicious choices about who I talk to. Kelsey’s nice enough, and she’s here, and if she spreads rumors, well—
I’m sure they were going to start anyway, even without my help.
“I didn’t cheat on her,” I say.
Kelsey’s eyes widen. “Did she cheat on you?”
“No,” I say. “I’m the one who filed for divorce, but it wasn’t her fault. I was a shitty husband.”
Now Kelsey looks confused. “You didn’t cheat on her. And I’m guessing if you were an addict or a pathological liar that would be all over the news.”
I laugh, but it’s bitter. “Yeah, not any of those things.”
“So how bad a husband could you have been?”
Those are her standards? “Jeez, you really do date bad boys, don’t you?”
Kelsey smiles. “What can I say? I have a type.”
“Yeah, well, it turns out I really suck at meeting a woman’s emotional needs. Just ask any of my ex-girlfriends. It was the worst with Kim, though. We fought all the time because I couldn’t make her happy, and I just couldn’t stand doing that to her.”
Kelsey scrunches her nose. “Youfiled because you couldn’t makeherhappy?”
