Page 40 of At the Heart of It
“Nonviolent Communication,” Kate supplied, thrilled to see the master at work. “That’s a great idea.”
“Learning compassionate communication tools is essential here,” Viv continued. “Also establishing some basic rules like making a habit of never going to bed angry.”
“I disagree,” Jonah said. “For some couples that’s pointless. Trying to resolve everything before hitting the sack just makes people irritable and sleep-deprived the next day. It’s better to get a good night’s sleep and talk once you’re rested.”
“Easy for you to say, Mr. I-Never-Have-Any-Problem-Falling-Asleep,” Viv countered. “Some people can’t fall asleep when they’re upset or stressed or?—”
“So what do you want them to do, stay up all night screaming at each other?” Jonah interrupted. “Look, it’s simple science. Did you read the study last month that talked about the importance of sleep in replenishing the adenosine triphosphate molecule that serves as energy currency for the body? When the ATP molecules are depleted, the body can’t?—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Chase interjected. “Let’s save the science speak for Dr. Viv. Jonah, you’re doing great when you stick with things about boning and orgasms. All the things viewers want to hear from Average Joe.”
Kate bit her lip. She watched Jonah’s eyes flash. Saw him clutch his pen in one fist and look down at the page. She took a deep breath, wondering if she was about to see his famous temper flare.
But Jonah said nothing.
Kate clapped her hands together, eager to break the tension. “Look, why don’t we take a break for a little bit?” Kate suggested. “It’s clear tensions are running high here, and there are going to be some kinks to work out before we reach a point where we’re ready to start filming.”
Jonah looked up, then set the paper down on the table and pulled off his glasses. He dragged his hands down his face and sighed. “I think it’s clear this isn’t going to work,” he said. “All we’re going to do is argue. No one wants to see a couple of exes squabbling.”
“Actually, you’re wrong there,” Chase said. “This was brilliant. Absolutely perfect.”
“I agree,” Luke said. “Viewers love these kinds of fiery interactions.”
Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes, wondering if the man had ever had an original thought. But at least he was right.
“It’s exactly what they want to see,” Amy agreed, glancing at Kate before looking away quickly. “The arguing, the shouting—this is all great for ratings.”
Jonah gave her a skeptical look. “Are you serious? People want to watch us fight on a show about trying to save doomed relationships?”
“Judgment, Jonah,” Viv said. “They’re not doomed. They’re coming to us for help. To determine if things can be saved.”
Jonah dragged his hands down his face again, and Kate had a sudden urge to wrap her arms around him.
“God help them,” he muttered, and picked up his packet again.
Jonah tossed his keys on the dining room table and headed straight for the fridge. He was pretty sure he had a beer in there, maybe even two left over from the six-pack he’d grabbed a few weeks ago.
Right now, he wanted nothing more than to crack a cold one and sit down on the couch with a bag of chips and a good book.
You should probably skip the book, his brain chided. Might as well turn on ESPN and get back into character as Average Joe.
He sighed and rounded the corner into the kitchen, then stopped in his tracks.
A ball of fluff blocked his path, her white feline face and silvery whiskers a startling contrast against the explosion of black fur that made up the rest of her body. She was lying in front of the fridge, white paws stretched sphinxlike in front of her.
The cat opened her eyes and took him in. “Owl,” said Marilyn.
Her eyebrows lifted in silent reproach, and Jonah felt like a kid caught egging the neighbor’s house.
“What?” he said. “I was just going to get a beer.”
The cat stared at him with huge gold eyes, the beauty mark making her look like a judgmental prom queen. She twitched her tail and sighed as though his presence was a grave inconvenience.
Jonah crossed his arms. “What, you’re my mother now? I just want a beer.”
“Owl.” The cat stayed fixed in front of the fridge.
“Look, I’m not going to let you start dictating my beverage choices,” he pointed out, ignoring the fact that he was arguing with a cat. “I happen to like beer. I don’t care if wine seems more sophisticated. I know for a fact there are a couple of pumpkin ales left in the fridge, and maybe even an IPA—” Jonah sighed and dragged his hands down his face. “Why am I arguing with a cat?”
