Page 80 of The Fake Husband Play
Elly gulps. “Okay.” Then, she turns to Beanie and asks, “How do you know all this? I thought you worked in healthcare.”
“Well, I’ve already been through the NHL star thing once with older his brother,” Beanie demurs.
I laugh as I rise from my lounge chair. “And Beanie knows everything,chère. The sooner you realize that, the better.”
“And I’m always right,” my mama says with a shameless grin. “Well, almost always. Go on,bebes. Get cleaned up. I’ll keep an eye on little bug. She doesn’t need to get pretty for the camera. She’s already too pretty already. Ain’t that right, Mimi?”
Mimi looks up from where she’s deep in pretend with some old bath toys at the far edge of the pool. “What’s that?”
“Nothing, honey, just saying you’re the prettiest six-year-old I know,” Beanie says. “Can I borrow those curls sometime? I’ve always wanted big, bouncy curls.”
Mimi giggles. “You can’t sharehair, silly. But you can borrow my conditioner. Mama buys it special for thirsty curly hair.”
“Is that right?” Beanie hums beneath her breath. “I’ve been using the same brand for a decade, but it might be time for a change. My hair’s thirsty, too.”
“My agent is thirsty,” I mutter, arching a brow Beanie’s way as I reach a hand down to Elly, helping her up from her chair. “Is something going on with you and Freddy? You said you chatted at the game when he flew down last week. You didn’t say you two were at the ‘making eyeballs at each other on FaceTime’ stage of your relationship.”
But my mama just laughs. “Oh, hush. You’re imagining things. Freddy’s just a friend. Now go clean up, son. Your hair looks thirsty, too. Might want to run some oil and a little gel through that. Chlorine is so hard on hair.”
We leave Beanie and Mimi discussing what smells they like best in a shampoo and hurry across the living room. A second before we part ways—Elly headed to her room and I to mine—she gives my hand a tight squeeze that says “We’ve got this.”
And…we do.
The PR team arrives at five forty-five on the dot, two women and a younger guy who seem completely at ease with the weirdness of the situation. Natalie, the lead, has a centered energy that serves her well in a PR crisis.
“This is going to be a walk in the park,” she assures us as she surveys the open living area and terrace with a practiced eye. “Your space is perfect. Lush, but comfortable and not at all pretentious.” She casts a smile mine and Elly’s way. “And you’re both as photogenic as they come. So, just relax, try to enjoy yourselves, and pretendwe’re friends who stopped by for a beer and happened to bring our cameras along.”
“Would you like a beer?” I ask, motioning toward the small bar area by the pool. “We can make that happen.”
Natalie laughs. “For sure, thanks, we’ll have one to celebrate a wrap on filming. Let’s make sure we don’t waste this light.” She motions to the rest of her team. “We’ll start outside. Remember, no close-ups on their kiddo, and she’s never the focus. We’ll be blurring her in post, so the easier we can make that for ourselves, the better.”
They’re efficient, but warm and relaxed, and Natalie easily wins Mimi over with a request to know the names of all her pool toy animals.
The process is remarkably painless, even fun at times.
We film by the pool, Elly and I grilling sausages while Mimi splashes in the background. We answer Natalie’s questions about where we came from and where we’re going, being honest without going too deep. Later, we shift inside, pretending to “tidy up after dinner,” while we talk about growing up in New Orleans and how much we both love the city. As Elly gets Mimi ready for bed, carrying our sleepy girl from her bath to her room, all bundled in a fluffy towel, I sit at the kitchen table. I talk about community and family and how important it is to me to build a life I can be proud of, all while emphasizing that I’m a private person who’s fiercely protective of the people I love.
Finally, around eight, just as Elly emerges from Mimi’s room, announcing that our girl is down for the count after her big day, Natalie announces, “I thinkwe’ve got everything we need. Thank you both for welcoming us into your home.”
I stand, motioning toward the terrace. “Of course, thank you for coming on such short notice. Can I offer you that beer now? Or maybe a glass of wine or a bourbon?”
“No, thank you,” Natalie says, already shooing the others toward the door. “We have a lot of editing to do by midnight, when I promised Schwartz the footage. So, we should get to it. But thank you again, and seriously, you did a great job.”
After they’re gone, Elly sags onto the couch with a rush of breath. “Well, that wasn’t so bad.”
“Not bad at all,” I agree as Beanie delivers three freshly poured glasses of white wine.
“To controlling the narrative,” she toasts, lifting her glass as she catches first my gaze, then Elly’s. “And to being one hell of a team. You done good,bebes.Z’êtes ben trouvés, vous deux.”
Elly waits until we’ve finished our wine, until Beanie’s headed for home, until we’ve brushed our teeth and headed to bed to ask, “What Beanie said. After the toast…Trouvermeans to find, right? Did she say she was glad we found each other?”
My brows lift in surprise as I twine my fingers through hers, ready to have her all to myself again. “Been working on your French,chère?”
She shoots me a shy smile. “Maybe. I mean, I like it when you talk dirty to me in French, even when Ican’tunderstand most of it. But…” She gives a little shrug as we stop in front of my bedroom door. “But I think I might like knowing what you’re saying even more.”
I cup her face, running my thumb over her cheek. “Is that an invitation? Because if you’re too tired, I?—”
“I’m not too tired,” She slides her arms around my waist and steps in closer, her hip brushing against where I’m already getting hard. “I’m not tired at all.” She rocks forward, grinding lightly against me as her lips find mine.
