It seems that our marriage is starting off very rocky. So far he’s had to fire his lawyer because of me, and now there’s the situation with his agent because of me. And I can’t forget Jules. No, there will be no forgetting Jules, ever. I can’t even count forward to eighteen years because she’ll never be gone. In my mind Josh and I are married forever and the realization that our forever will include Jules truly sucks. They will always have a bond that Josh and I won’t—and honestly, I’m not sure I can live with that. It’s a hard pill to swallow, knowing your husband’s ex is having his child and you’re not. Even if I thought about broaching the subject of having a baby, I know deep in my heart he’ll shoot the notion down. He doesn’t want children. I knew this at the end of our ninety days and still chose to stay.
“What do you think?” Josh asks, his voice full of eagerness.
“I’ve been here before,” I remind him with a smile that matches his.
“Yes, but now it’s different. We’re different.” He squeezes my hand before leaning over to give me a kiss. He’s right, we are different. When we left, everything seemed to be perfect. I was foolish to live inside a bubble thinking nothing bad was going to happen. I expected something from Jules, but in the way of tabloid fodder, a botched sex tape, or an exposé on how Josh broke her heart when he went on the show. Boy was I wrong on all accounts. Those I could’ve easily dealt with. I’ve watched enough Barbara Walters and TMZ to know what’s real and what’s not, to know when to laugh it all off and when to fan girl. Sadly, the fan girl in me is fizzling out because this Hollywood drama is too much to take.
We pull into an apartment complex that seems average. There’s nothing striking about it, no security or high walled fence with a passcode keeping people who don’t belong out. When I look over at Josh, he seems excited and I want to ask him if we’re picking someone up, except the driver has parked and is opening my door.
“We’re home … sort of,” Josh says.
“Sort of?”
He shrugs. “Until we find our own place.”
“Oh …” Is all I can say as the driver reaches for my hand to help me out of the car. I let him because right now my legs are shaking and I need all the help I can get. Between the three of us we carry our bags past the people saying hi to Josh, up the flight of stairs, and down the open-aired hallway. The only thing preventing us from falling to our death—or at least saving us from being critically injured—is a wrought iron railing.
Josh opens the door, walking in first. I follow and the driver steps in behind me, hitting the back of my legs with the luggage he’s carrying. He doesn’t apologize or even say good-bye as he turns and leaves. The thought crosses my mind that I need to go with him because as I look around I’m having a hard time fathoming that Josh lives here. I know he said his place was small and affordable, but the living room is as big as the bathroom from the hotel we stayed at and that wasn’t even a massive hotel.
“Welcome, home,” Rob, Josh’s best friend says as he comes out from what I’m assuming to be the kitchen area. I’ve seen him in many photos and a few interviews with Josh, but can’t place which movies he’s been in. He’s good looking with his dark hair and defined cheekbones.
Josh and Rob hug, patting each other on their backs while I stand here. I feel like I’m intruding on some sort of bromance.
“You have to meet my Joey,” Josh says to Rob as he turns to face me. I step forward with my hand out to shake his, but Rob pulls me into his arms, catching me off guard.
“You deserve a gold medal for putting up with him,” he remarks, holding on a little bit longer than necessary. He’s right, I do, but not because of Josh as a person, but the drama that surrounds him.
“It wasn’t so bad,” I reply, referring to the show. Truth is, up until this past week, everything has been bliss.
Josh pushes Rob out of the way and takes me into his arms. I’m half expecting him to piss on me right in front of him to mark his territory.
“Let’s get unpacked,” Josh suggests, but refuses to let me go until Rob reaches for the bags that are on the floor. Josh follows with his arms full, leaving me nothing to carry and no choice but to follow them down a tiny hallway. I stand back when they enter what I’m assuming is Josh’s bedroom and wait for Rob to exit. He winks at me when he passes by and starts whistling as he retreats down the hall.
“It’s small,” Josh says when I step into the room. I shut the door quietly behind me, wanting privacy. Small is an understatement, but I should’ve expected this. He warned me before that he lived simply because he was afraid to run out of money and yet we’re looking at places to buy when maybe we should rent.
“It is, but it reminds me of my bedroom.” As I look around I realize Josh and I aren’t much different. Here I am, a college graduate who had to move home because her life went to hell in a hand basket right before her eyes and is living in her childhood bedroom. If we were at my house, Josh and I would be sleeping in a double bed, crammed into the corner with my embarrassing high school photos staring at us from the corkboard hanging on my wall.
He dumps the bags he’s holding on his bed and hangs my wedding dress in his closet. Before I can blink, he’s pulling me into his arms and kissing my neck.
“It’s temporary. The first place we like, we move,” he says in between kisses. I burn with desire for him, but quell any thoughts about being with him. I have a feeling we’ll be regulated to the bathroom where the water can block out the noises that we make. It’ll be like being back in the house with prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.
“Gah, you need to stop that,” I tell him, pushing him away. The smirk across his face tells me that he has no intention of stopping. I shake my head and sidestep him so I can look around his room … our room for the time being. There are scripts on his dresser and a small jewelry box. I’m tempted to open it and snoop, but I refrain. If there is something in there that he wants me to see, he’ll show me.
A sudden burst of giddiness falls over me. I look at Josh, who is watching my every move.
“I’m in Josh Wilson’s bedroom,” I say, trying to contain my laughter.
“Seriously?”
I nod, biting my lower lip to hold back a squeal of delight.
Laughing, Josh scoops me up in his arms and lays us roughly onto his bed. “You’re excited because you’re in my room?”
“Yes. I can’t explain it.”
“After everything we’ve done, this box is what gets your heart racing?”
I turn slightly so I can see him clearly. He hasn’t shaved in a few days and his eyes close as I run my fingers through his whiskers, loving the way they tickle my flesh.