Page 89 of At the Heart of It
A light flickered in the back of Kate’s brain, and she finally understood. “That’s why you’re doing the TV show,” she breathed. “That’s why you changed your mind after I showed you the budget.”
Jonah nodded once and spun his beer on the table. “Jossy knows computer-controlled prosthetics exist, obviously. But it’s never been an option before. She’s never wanted to talk about it.”
“Does she know that’s why you’re doing the show?”
He shook his head. “But I figure if I find myself sitting on a huge pile of cash, she’ll have a hard time saying no.”
“Jonah.” This time she did reach out and touch him. A hand on his knee, which seemed like a pitiful gesture once she saw her own five fingers sitting there useless and small. He looked at it for a long time, almost like he was wondering how it got there.
“That really fucking sucks,” Kate said. “For you, for Jossy—hell, for the other kids in that car, whether they died or got injured or have to live with what they did forever. It fucking sucks for everyone.”
Jonah burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that for a moment, Kate worried he’d slipped into hysterics. Even Marilyn seemed alarmed, her eyebrows lifting as she repositioned herself a few inches away.
“Oh, Kate,” he said, shaking his head with laughter in his voice. “You say the best things sometimes.”
Kate grimaced, wondering if she should back up and try again. “I’m sorry for your—for her—loss.”
He shook his head, still laughing a little. “You know what Viv said to me the first time I told her that story?”
Kate felt a pang at hearing Viv’s name, but forced herself to stay focused on the conversation. “No. What?”
“She said, ‘Guilt is an emotional warning sign that there’s something here for you to learn. Self-examination can be healthy, and this is a beautiful opportunity to grow and mourn and flounder and breathe.’”
“That’s beautiful,” Kate said. “Much more put together than what I said.”
“Sure, it’s great. Textbook example of what to say to someone who’s grieving and blaming himself. Literally—it’s from a book. A book she wrote.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Kate said, not sure why she felt like defending Viv. “She has wise insights to share. She’s articulate and?—”
“Kate, I know. You don’t need to sing my ex-wife’s praises. I know she has fans, and I know you’re one of the biggest. It’s just—sometimes people don’t want the platitudes. They just want connection. Something real. Something genuine. Something heartfelt, even if it’s, ‘that really fucking sucks.’”
Kate twirled her fork around in the pad thai. “There was still a more poetic way to say that.”
“Probably. But I didn’t invite you to dinner for the poetry.”
“Didn’t I invite myself to dinner?”
“All the more reason I’m glad you’re here.”
Jonah picked up his plate and took a bite of curry. The frown lines relaxed in his forehead, and though he wasn’t exactly smiling, he didn’t look as melancholy as he had a few minutes ago.
“I’m sorry about what happened,” Kate said.
Jonah looked up. “Are you talking about the car accident, or what happened between us the other night?”
“The car accident.” Kate bit her lip. “I’m not sorry about what happened between us. It can’t happen again, of course?—”
“Of course.”
“But like you said the next morning: It wasn’t a mistake. We were pulled into each other’s orbit for a reason.”
Jonah grimaced and looked down at his plate. When he looked up, his expression had turned sheepish. “You knew that was a Viv quote, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” Kate shifted a little on the couch, conscious of his closeness, of the riskiness of this conversation.
“I didn’t realize it until hours later when we were on set and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Forgive me?”
“For what?”
