Page 65 of Fake Married to the Grumps

Her name slips out, softer and heavier with years gone by. I catch it too late. Ellen's eyebrow lifts.

"You sound like you've just discovered the lost city of Atlantis. Who's Marissa, and why does her name have you all sentimental?"

"I used to know someone by that name. Childhood ... friends."

Her eyes widen, and she throws her hands up in mock disbelief. "You actually remember people from your past? I must document this historic moment."

I chuckle. "I have a photographic memory, Ellen. Comes with the territory of being a movie star, you know."

She waves off my remark."Whatever, superstar. Now, let's pick an assistant so you can get back to your award-winning journey."

I glance at the list again, my finger tracing the names until it lands on Marissa. "I choose her."

"Wait, what? Bryce Alston is picking an assistant? Is the world ending?"

I force a casual shrug, trying to bury the sudden rush of emotions.

"It's just a name. No big deal."

She smirks, not buying mydevil-may-careact. "Oh, come on. I've seen you go through dozens of assistants without a second thought. This Marissa must have been special."

For a split second, I freeze, my poker face faltering ever so slightly and betraying my usually cool facade. "She is."

Ellen assures me that Marissa will be my assistant, and even though I conceal it like the pro that I am, I can't wait to see her after all this time. I wonder if she’ll recognize me. But then again, I'm hoping she's been following my movies.

After my meeting with Ellen, I head to the elevator so I could make it in time for my next meeting with the production crew.

The moment the doors slide open,my eyes widen as I step inside, and my attention is momentarily diverted from my phone.

There, standing a few feet away, is Marissa, looking as white as a sheet. My jaw drops, but disguising my feelings is kind of what I do for a living, so I'm quick to recover.

Memories from eight years agosurgeback, filling the small space with a palpable awkwardness.I knew I was going to see her eventually, but I didn't think it would be this soon. Also, I didn't expect to be staring at the bombshell before me.

Marissa is a sight—like golden honey drizzling over a sundae. Her hair, a cascade of blonde curls that could make Cupid reconsider his aim, frame eyes that sparkled with innocence, the kind that ignites clandestine smiles and warmth.

Her blouse seems as though a playful spell has kissed it, blending professionalism with a dash of enchantment. Her eyes met mine, and for a beat, I’m convinced she holds the copyright to sunshine. Marissa possesses the kind of gaze that makes poets fumble for metaphors, and all I can muster is an internal "wow."

"Marissa," I manage to utter, bracing myself for the nostalgic rollercoaster.

"Br-Bryce? Is that really you?"

I nod, offering a faint smile. "Yeah, it's me."

She looks different—grown up in all the flattering ways possible. The girl I remember is now a woman, and the surprise on her face remains in place.

I burymy attention back into my phone. It's best to stay quiet and avoid a conversation altogether.

"It's so good to see you. What brings you back to town?" She takes the initiative, clearly unfazed by the awkward atmosphere.

I keep my responses curt, glancing up briefly. "Work. Got a film project here."

Marissa's eyes light up like a kid on Christmas morning. "No way! That's amazing. I had no clue you were back."

"Yeah, just touched down."

I hope she catches the hint as I return to my phone, but she's oblivious, shifting nervously.

"Oh, I work at the film production company upstairs."

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