CeCe says each letter as if it’s a word. “Mom—that’s Monica Whistler!”
“Is it?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Can I?” CeCe looks desperately between her unpainted toes and Monica taking selfies with the modest crowd that’s gathered around her.
“CeCe.” I say her name in the lecture tone I’ve been trying to copy from the way Jill says her kids’ names. “They’re filming here all summer, I’m sure you’ll have other opportunities to meet her.”
“Do you think you could call one of your casting connections in L.A. and see if they can get me in for an audition?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I lie.
CeCe gives me a smile that I don’t deserve, because I’m never going to make that phone call. It’s too dangerous—if CeCe gets the chance to meet Monica, she’s all but guaranteed to find out who she is. It’s hard enough playing second fiddle to Tommy, but there’s no way I could compete with Monica.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alexis
I can’t remember the last time I worried so much about an outfit. Everything I tried on this morning feels wrong, like it did when I was an awkward high school girl at least one size too big for all my clothes. Before I figured out which styles were more flattering for “curves.”
It’s not that I care what Monica Whistler thinks. No matter how good or bad I look, she’ll still be judging me—the much-less-beautiful one who came after her. I just want to make a good impression for Tommy’s sake. To look and play the part of a good, supportive wife—even though Monica is the only one who’s held that title in Tommy’s life. Which I know is no one’s fault but my own.
He’s kept his distance this morning, knowing how I get when I work myself up like this. But he did leave a note next to my pillow for me to find when I woke up. We’ve been spending so much time together he’s gotten out of the habit of leaving me daily love letters. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them until I saw his scrawled handwriting this morning, written on the back of an envelope. It said, In a sea full of people, my eyes will always search for you.
That man really makes it hard to be mad at him. Of course, I’m not really mad. I understand, I just hate the situation. At least it’s just one day—I can do one day. It’s not even a full day; she’ll only be here for an hour.
Jill was a saint and agreed to invite CeCe to spend the day with them. They’re going to the beach in the afternoon, but this morning, CeCe is getting real-kitchen experience working at The Broken Crown. At first, I worried Monica might come in the café before or after, but Jill realized that she only ever sees her on Wednesdays, which must be the day they shoot her scenes. At least I don’t have to worry about that anymore.
My phone sounds with my second-to-last “you’d better finish getting ready” alarm, which I haven’t had to set in months. I’ve never been a morning person, and I get distracted so easily that I’d be late to work every day without a few reminders. Kind of like I was late getting home every night, I realize with a sinking feeling.
I take a deep breath and focus on being the positive force Tommy needs me to be. That I need me to be, at least until Monica is out of my house. I put my hair straightener back in the drawer, where it’s been collecting dust since we got down here, and steal one more glance in the mirror. I know my critical eyes are looking for problems, but it’s hard to ignore the pudgy middle that’s only kind of hidden by the pale pink A-line dress I ended up going with.
There isn’t enough time to change again, and even if there were, this outfit beat out every other one in my closet. It’s a pretty color, it’s flattering-ish, and most important, it doesn’t make me look like I’m trying too hard. Because trying too hard is even worse than not trying at all.
The doorbell rings, and I look back at the alarm clock next to Tommy’s side of the bed. Ten to eleven. Who doesn’t have the decency to wait in the car until the time they’re expected? Although since she has arrived earlier, hopefully she’ll leave earlier, then we can get back to normal