Page 62 of At the Heart of It
“So,” Viv said when they were finally seated. She wrapped her fingers around the mug of steaming tea, but didn’t take a sip. “How did you think today went?”
“Fine. It went fine.” He wanted to leave it at that, but her expectant look told him he was supposed to say more. That he needed to “unpack it,” as she used to say.
Jonah sighed and stirred some sugar into his coffee. “Having cameras in my face like that was a little intense,” he said. “But Sam and Elena seemed nice. Well, once they stopped hamming it up for dramatic effect.”
“Do you think the marriage can be saved?”
He looked at her a moment, trying to read her expression. How often in their marriage had she ever asked his opinion? Ever really sounded like she wanted it?
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I think they can save it. If they’re willing to do the work.”
Viv’s face broke into a grin. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
Jonah grunted and picked up his coffee. He took a big gulp before remembering it was really fucking hot and also that he didn’t even want coffee. It was just something to order, something to hold in his hands as a prop so he could look like a motherfucking adult having a motherfucking grown-up conversation.
What was it about being around Viv that made his subconscious swear so much?
He took another sip of coffee, waiting for her to say something. It was another elicitation technique, one of his favorites he’d honed on his last tour in Kabul. Just waiting for the other person to get uncomfortable and rush to fill the silence. They always did.
Especially Viv, who never could stand it when people weren’t making a constant effort to communicate.
“So Jonah,” she said. “The network folks made another request today.”
“They want me to do the show shirtless?” He grunted again and blew on the coffee. “Yeah, they already called and asked.”
“What?” Viv blinked, then laughed. “Oh, you’re kidding? Right, of course.”
Actually, he wasn’t kidding, but there was no point detailing his phone conversation with Chase Whitfield. Man, that guy was a piece of work.
But that didn’t seem to be why Viv had tracked him down. He didn’t really give a shit about shooting some B-roll of him working out in the little gym he’d built at the bookstore. Free publicity for Cornucopia Books was never a bad thing, plus the network had agreed to pay Beth to run the shop on days Jonah was filming. He felt like he owed them.
“Anyway,” Viv said. “The network wants to do an arced storyline.”
“A what?”
“An arced storyline,” she repeated. “It’s where there’s a story that carries through the whole season of episodes. Some little thread that ties everything together.”
“You mean besides the fact that both of us are in every episode?”
“That’s the starting point, of course,” she said. “But it would be something more than that. Something more—personal.”
“More personal than having cameras stuck in our faces for ten hours a day?”
Viv took a sip of her tea and gave Jonah a look of practiced patience. “They want to focus on some element of our story,” she said. “You and me.”
“You and me.” The words came out flat, and Jonah wasn’t sure why he felt the need to repeat them. To hear them land in the middle of the table with a dull thud.
Viv pretended not to notice. “Exactly. For instance, say one of us were involved in a new romance. The producers might chronicle how that unfolded, maybe explore each spouse’s emotional reactions to the new development.”
Jonah felt a pang of alarm, but willed himself not to react. Had Viv picked up on something between him and Kate? Maybe caught a lingering glance between them, or noticed the way Kate smiled and rolled her eyes when the makeup girl swooped in for the third time to powder his face and rest one of her silicone-enhanced breasts on his shoulder.
Jonah gripped his mug a little tighter and tried not picture Kate’s face. Or her bare leg, disappearing into a delicious froth of bathtub suds. Or the kiss in Ashland, or the one at the bookstore, or the kiss at his place?—
Christ. How many times had they kissed?
Too many for two people who’d pledged not to do it at all.
Not enough, considering how much he wanted to do it again.
