The truth was I didn’t actually mind being asked about my screenplay. In fact, I was pretty damn proud that I’d shot off ten pages after dry humping Isaac’s lap. Orgasms are good for the brain after all. Sure, we were a little stalled on the real Christmas miracle origin story, but I’d really hit a stride while holed up with Isaac in his studio as we hid from the movie crew yesterday.
And I’d stopped lying to myself too. There was no use in promising that each time would be our last, because I didn’t want it to be.
I tried not to think too hard about why that was. Because I knew—I knew—letting myself sink deeper under his spell was an award-winningly stupid idea. I knew it would end with him still being obsessed with his dead wife and me miserable, and only atotal doughnutwould subject themselves to that inevitable heartbreak!
I just wished the inevitable heartbreak didn’t have such incredible hair. And such a beautiful voice.
And a way of looking at me like he wanted to crawl inside my mind and dream my dreams with me.
“Speaking of contractual obligations...” Steph said as Teddy pulled out her chair for her. “Isaac, how’s the album—”
“New rule: no more asking Sunny or Isaac about the jobs they’re supposed to be doing,” Isaac said as he unpacked the sushi.
“Supposed to be?” Steph asked with a raised brow.
“Are,” I said. “The jobs wearedoing.”
“Good girl,” Steph said as she snapped her chopsticks apart with a sexily efficientcrack.
“My God,” I said, “I think I have a boner.”
Teddy cleared his throat. “Me too.”
“And Isaac,” Steph told him. “My clients don’t make the rules. That’s not how this works.”
Isaac spread his strong hands with those wonderfullywristywrists in an “oh darn” gesture. “But I’m not your client.”
“Yet,” replied Steph in a crisp tone. And then she levered a giant piece of sushi into her mouth and swallowed it whole like a snake while maintaining eye contact with Isaac.
Isaac leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Okay, I think I get the appeal now.”
“That’s not how anything works with Steph, by the way,” Teddy said through a mouthful of sashimi.
“You love it,” I told Teddy. And then to Steph, “Teddy was a lovesick puppy when you two were just once-in-a-while fuck buddies. One day I came into his office and he was listening to Taylor Swift’sFolkloreand scrolling through your Getty Images photos.”
“Teddy Ray Fletcher is a Swiftie,” Isaac noted. “Interesting.”
Teddy stabbed a roll with one chopstick. “She’s the voice of a generation.”
“Oh!” Steph pulled out her phone and spoke into it. “Hey, Siri, add a reminder to contact Swift’s people about an Isaac Kelly collab.”
“Yeah, because aging heartthrob racked with grief is so Of the Moment,” Isaac said.
“I forgot the soy sauce!” I said and began to stand up.
Isaac touched my shoulder. “I’ll get it.” His fingers dragged across my back, and without thinking, I caught his hand before he moved away, giving it a quick, fond squeeze. It was such a normal touch. The kind of touch couples mindlessly share.
Teddy gave me A Look as Steph tapped away on her phone.
He coughed into his fist. “The phone,” he whispered in Steph’s direction. “At the dinner table.”
“Fuck me, I forgot,” Steph said and tossed her phone behind her without looking first, startling Mr.Tumnus in the midst of his kitty dreams. She looked to me. “Our table rules. Living with someone else is... new for me. But we’re both compromising, because we love each other and et cetera, et cetera. Just like our couples therapist said.”
Isaac returned with a bottle of some fancy soy sauce that he swore was better than the stuff in the little clear packets because it had been aged in wooden tubs and hand-pressed by angels or something. (We’d had this discussion over a reheated container of shrimp fried rice at one in the morning after working for so long we’d both forgotten to eat.)
“Couples therapy sounds serious,” I said.
“That’s all Teddy,” Steph explained. “When I asked him to move in for real, he said only if we went to therapy together.”
