Page 34 of Spit Screen

“Why?”

“Because I felt you in it—your wit and your wisdom. And I feltus. Not the way we fell in love or the way we’ve created our life, but the chaos that fills it—the everyday insanity and the struggle for balance. It’s funny because it’s believable. And it has heart.”

“Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I only told you the truth,” Emma says. “It made me realize I can’t avoid being who I am. For me, that means creating—being on a stage or a set. I?—”

“I know,” I say. “So? Do you really think we should consider moving to the East Coast?”

Emma’s smile is bright, loving, and confident. “Yes. I do.”

“It would put us closer to my dad,” I muse.

Emma settles back into my arms and kisses my shoulder.

“You do realize you’ll have to bake a lot more cookies—even if youareworking.”

“Well, make sure Emma Rowland’s kitchen has a working oven,” Emma tells me. “I’ll bake cookies while I’m at work.”

I chuckle. “Always looking for solutions.”

“Well, you know, you could learn to make the cookies yourself,” Emma suggests.

“Me? Uh—I don’t think so, Em. The last time I tried that, Vicki told me even the birds couldn’t eat them.”

I feel Emma’s light shaking against me.

“It’s not funny!”

“It’s funny,” Emma says, stretching to kiss me. “I didn’t fall in love with you for your culinary skills.”

“Yeah. It’s a good thing for all of us you have mastered the kitchen. We’d all be 1000 pounds from pizza delivery, Captain Crunch, and Hostess.”

Emma rolls her eyes and kisses my cheek. “You do have a flair for the dramatic, love.”

“Ha-ha. That’s Tam’s department.”

“Mm-hm.”

“I’m not dramatic, Emma.”

“No. Not at all.”

“Em?”

“Go to sleep, Addy.”

“Emma. Do you really think I’m dramatic?”

I feel more than hear Emma’s giggling.

“Emma?”

“Go to sleep, Addy.”

“Dramatic,” I gripe. “Writers are supposed to bedramatic. That’s how actors get work,” I mutter

Emma laughs.

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