Page 8

Cake

Marsh’s heart is thudding in her chest as the camera fades up from black and the scene crystallizes around her.

No, that’s the beat of party music at full volume, she realizes as her eyes find their focus.

Marsh is standing in the boardroom of her law firm, Mendoza-Montalvo and Hall, crammed in with a bunch of other employees. It’s a party, from the looks of it. And a roaring one, at that. Someone’s cranked up the stereo in the corner, and the entire ceiling is covered in balloons. Everywhere there isn’t a bottle of champagne or a platter of hors d’oeuvres on the great oak table, the lacquered wood is sparkling with confetti.

This is what Marsh knows the attorneys all do on Friday nights at the firm—celebrate whatever landslide case one of them just won. She’s not been to all of them, just the ones where Victor asked her to stay late to help set up the champagne and hors d’oeuvres, but she’s seen enough to know that this particular celebration seems even more lavish than they already are.

“Marsh!” Talia says as she pushes through the crowd. “Can you believe this?”

“What’s going on?” Marsh asks, but the room erupts into applause and whistles, drowning her out.

“Our champion has arrived!” one of the first-years shouts.

Marsh turns around, expecting to see everyone cheering for either Jo or Victor. But they all seem to be clapping and looking at Marsh .

“Just go with it! Enjoy yourself a little,” Talia grins, letting the crowd overtake her as she scoots back into it. “I’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Still trying to get her bearings, Marsh spins back toward the giant table, where the congratulatory cake is sitting. She looks to see whether Victor’s or Jo’s name is written in colorful frosting on the side of the towering pastry.

But this time, the letters spell out M-A-R-S-H .

The party is because she’s the one who just won what seems to be the biggest case their firm has ever had.

Marsh is not just a lawyer for Mendoza-Montalvo and Hall now, she realizes.

She’s a superstar there.

“You’re looking very starry-eyed.” Jo chuckles as she appears and hands her a glass of bubbly. “The victory’s finally hitting you?”

Marsh finally stops staring at the cake and toasts her as nonchalantly as she can manage. “Used up all my steely veneer in court,” she says.

Jo takes an appreciative sip. “I’ll say. I’ve never seen a jury come back so fast in my life. I hadn’t even finished my lunch when we heard they were filing back in, and I had to stuff my face and run. I was still chewing a bite of sandwich as I slid into one of the pews!”

Marsh bursts out laughing as Jo mimes how she tried to hide her mouth as she huddled in the last row of the courtroom earlier that afternoon.

“I can’t imagine what Judge Chopra would have thought if he’d seen me, but I wasn’t going to miss the verdict for anything,” Jo finishes, still chuckling. “I’m so proud of you, Marsh.”

“We all are,” a familiar voice says, and Marsh turns to see Dylan standing behind her.

What’s Dylan doing at Mendoza-Montalvo and Hall? She gasps.

Her left thumb darts furtively forward to stroke her ring finger, to confirm there’s no ring there. How could there be? In this episode, because Marsh put her career first over everything else, her path would have followed Jo’s much more closely than it followed her original life. She and Dylan would have divorced just after Harper was born, and she would have gone on to finish law school and become a lawyer, like she’d always wanted.

Already, her head’s starting to spin a little keeping track of the details. When she and Dylan split up in each reality, how old Harper is, if there was ever a Ren. Marsh is glad that Talia has the Show Bible to make sense of it all.

“Our woman of the hour,” Victor Mendoza-Montalvo declares, then a friendly thump lands on Marsh’s shoulder as he joins their little circle. “Ah, a visitor?” Victor asks, seeing Dylan.

Marsh freezes for a moment, unsure of how to introduce him, because she still doesn’t know who Dylan is to her in this reality, but Dylan is already shaking Victor’s hand.

“I’m Dylan, Marsh’s ex,” he says casually, as if he’s completely comfortable with it.

“Oh, yes,” Victor replies, as if he faintly recollects this information—Marsh’s suspicion that she and Dylan have been divorced a long time must be correct, then. “The two of you have a daughter, right?”

“Speak of the devil,” Dylan replies as Harper appears from the crowd at the same moment.

“Hi, Mom,” she says as Marsh joyfully cries, “Harp!”

“I wanted to bring her by for a little bit,” he explains as Harper, self-conscious around so many adults, gives her mother a shy hug. “I thought you might like for her to see what an incredible job you did.”

The rush of pleasure at his words surprises Marsh. She’d always told herself that Harper’s passion for the violin was proof that she’d been a good parent, wasn’t it? That she’d taught her daughter that she could have anything she wanted, if she worked hard enough.

But it was one thing to tell her, and another thing entirely to be able to show her.

“Thank you,” Marsh says to him, and means it.

“Speech! Speech!” the junior associates are chanting now.

Marsh tries to wave them off, but the cheers just get louder, and Jo is pushing her forward gently, until she finally gives in.

“I... uh...”

An embarrassed blush is threatening at her cheeks. She can feel the cheap stage makeup on her face again, hear the whisper of the old drama teacher giving directions from the wings. So many eyes on her, so much attention.

But it’s different this time.

They’re not all staring at her with ridicule.

They’re looking at her with awe .

“The very first day of my Introduction to Constitutional Law class...” Marsh finally stammers—and the whole room leans in. They’re smiling, waiting for the funny anecdote, ready to laugh.

They want to hear what she says, she realizes.

And when the crowd erupts into whistles and thunderous applause at the end of her speech, Marsh is stunned to find that she’s not shrinking away anymore, not hunching her shoulders and casting her eyes down. Instead, she’s actually grinning .

Maybe she really can do this.

“You’ve outdone yourself this time,” Jo says as Marsh rejoins them. “We should have told the interns to get even more balloons!”

“I’ll have to give the cleaners a bonus this year, for all the times we’ve destroyed this room with a party.” Victor winks at her. “It’s worth it, though. Keep on winning like you are and I’ll happily hire a full-time second cleaning crew just for your celebrations.”

“That’s our Marsh,” Jo says. “Any more landslide verdicts and we’re going to have to change the name of the firm.”

Marsh almost chokes on her champagne— Is she that close to being considered for partner? She’s afraid to even hope that it’s already possible for her so early in the season, but Victor is looking at Marsh expectantly. Her stomach loops itself into excited knots.

“I’ll leave you to catch up,” Victor finally says, nodding politely to Marsh, Dylan, Harper, and Jo as he starts to move toward another cluster of lawyers. “Enjoy the party, Marsh. You’ve earned it!”

“I’m off, too,” Jo says as she first air-kisses Marsh’s cheeks, then Harper’s, which delights the girl.

“Take care,” Dylan says to her, shaking hands.

“You too. And Marsh, I’ll see you later!” she shouts at Marsh over the crowd as she departs. “This is your night. I’m not letting you stop celebrating until dawn!”

As Jo waves from the door, Marsh spots a little poster hanging on the bulletin board beside her—it’s a sign-up sheet for a company retreat to Hong Kong.

Is that a clue? A teaser for what’s still to come? Her heart flutters with excitement.

“Meet me in an hour! You better be there!” Jo says, and disappears.

“Does she ever slow down?” Marsh laughs.

Dylan shrugs back. “Do you?”

There’s no trace of jealousy or bitterness in his voice, but still, the words catch Marsh off guard. She looks at him more closely, trying to see this version of his life instead of the original.

“So, how’s your work going?” she asks.

“Good,” he says. “And it’s been fun to have Harper in my class this year.”

“What?” Marsh asks, confused. Harper is only in her teens—does this mean Dylan doesn’t teach at the college level in this life, but rather at a high school?

“Yeah.” Harper shrugs. “I was going to take biology for my science requirement, but physics is kind of interesting.”

“She’s doing well so far,” he says proudly. “Maybe she’ll even get the PhD I never did!”

Marsh laughs at his joke, but the sudden drop in her gut makes the sound come out funny.

Dylan never finished his PhD in this life?

In the real world, Marsh was the one who gave up her career to raise Harper, both because it felt cruel to ask Dylan to do it and because she’d thought she wanted to, at the time. But in order for this reality to have worked out the way it has for her, it must have been Dylan that had to pick up the parental slack when they separated.

Did he choose it happily?

Or does he regret it here, just like Marsh does outside the Bubble?

“Do you ever wish you’d finished your PhD?” Marsh asks him, softer.

Dylan smiles. “Oh, I don’t know. It was so long ago. And Meadows High is great.”

“And he gets to see me all day,” Harper teases, then grows awkward once more.

“Want some of the cake?” Marsh offers as she studies her.

“It’s eight o’clock! She’ll never sleep tonight,” Dylan cries.

“But we’re supposed to be celebrating,” Harper counters, giving him puppy-dog eyes. “You’re saying that Mom’s big win isn’t worth just one sugar high?”

Dylan chuckles. “Touché. You really drive a hard bargain, missy. Clearly you learned from the best.”

She smiles, shy all over again at this reference to her mother.

Marsh frowns. Now that the show has softened her daughter’s sarcastic, surly adolescent edge, she can clearly see the difference between how Harper is with her father and how she is with Marsh. She clearly likes her mother—but isn’t as comfortable with her as she is with Dylan.

It seems that in this life, Marsh has been so busy climbing in her career that the two of them didn’t spend enough time together to grow as close as they should be.

“Fine, but no extra frosting!” Dylan insists as Harper scampers off.

Marsh wants to ask him more about her, but once she’s gone, Dylan’s gaze unfocuses, his thoughts drifting somewhere distant.

“You know, sometimes, it sort of feels like I did,” he says, almost more to himself.

“Did what?” Marsh asks.

“Finish my PhD. There are these moments... of course, they never happened, but they feel so real that sometimes, I forget they actually didn’t. Almost like in some alternate universe, I managed it, or something. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

Marsh tries to come up with a response, but she doesn’t really know what to say to that. In another version of this moment, she might find it funny that her own personal physics expert is talking about quantum bubbling without any idea how relevant the subject really is, but in this version, she can’t summon the humor. Not when he looks so lost in it.

Dylan laughs, his gaze returning to the present. “Who knows, maybe it’s just a coping mechanism. But it works. I’m happy with my job.”

“Hey.” Marsh waits until he looks at her. “Your job is important. Seriously.”

He taps her glass gently with his own. “Well, thanks. But we’re not here to talk about me. We’re here to celebrate you. And speaking of that, I have something to show you.”

“A gift?” Marsh asks.

“Sort of.” Dylan is chuckling to himself and shaking his head as he unzips the backpack he must use to cart his teaching materials to and from the high school. His smile is infectious, and Marsh can feel the corners of her lips tugging upward, but as soon as he pulls out the present, the grin fades from her face.

Dylan is holding a medium-sized rectangular box. Sort of like what a dress shirt might come in.

Marsh stares at it, unnerved.

She already has a very strong suspicion of what’s inside.

Hasn’t this moment played out before already? she wonders as she tries to unwrap the gift as casually as possible. Or is it new, because this is a new path?

“It’s a briefcase,” she says as she uncovers it, feigning surprise. The words sound strange in her mouth. “For a lawyer.”

“Okay, there’s a story to this, I promise. I didn’t just buy you a super outdated, cheap messenger bag earlier today as a joke.” Dylan laughs. “I originally got it to surprise you when you finished law school and got hired here with Jo. But then—well, you know.” He shrugs.

“You kept it all this time,” Marsh replies.

“At first, I think I was holding out hope we might reconcile. But then after I realized we wouldn’t, I started to get another idea.” He nods at the box. “I watched you do so well here, climb the ladder so quickly, and I knew you were where you were supposed to be, doing what you were supposed to be doing. Even though things didn’t work out how we planned, they’re still pretty good. We’ve got Harper, and we’re still friends.”

“I’m so glad we are,” Marsh says. Her voice is genuine, earnest.

“Me too,” Dylan agrees. “I know you’ve got a much better briefcase now, probably one that costs as much as my car, but Harper’s birthday is next month, and I was just thinking, maybe we could tell her that I bought this for you when you were just starting out, and now we’re giving it to her, to use for school if she wants. Kind of like a good-luck talisman. Something to remind her that she can go as far you have, if she works just as hard.”

Marsh looks at the bag again, overcome. She touches the tacky, gold-plated front clasp on the leather.

“If you use it for just one day, it’ll technically be true,” Dylan says, misreading her expression. “You don’t even have to take it out of your office, so no one will see it.”

Marsh shakes her head. “It’s not that.”

She looks back up at him, unsure of what she wants to say. Her throat is tight, and she’s on the verge of tears.

“I really am happy for you,” Dylan says. His voice is soft, and without a trace of defensiveness. “I know how much it cost you to achieve this. The choices you had to make, the sacrifices you had to endure. I’m proud of you. Harper is, too. Even if she’s too embarrassed to admit it.”

Marsh flinches as a sudden prickle stings her eyes. She’s certainly made some hard choices, and a lot of sacrifices, to be who she is in this new version of her life.

But was it really worth it?

“It was,” Dylan says then, almost like he’s reading her mind.

Marsh tries to nod, but she’s looking down at the bag again instead of out at the party. “Do you ever...”

In response, Dylan clucks his tongue and holds his glass up to her. “All the time. But that’s what I do, not you. Don’t go soft on me now, Mallow. Not after all it took for you to get here. Besides, there are no redos in life anyway, right?”

Marsh doesn’t quite trust herself to speak. She steels herself and accepts the toast, and hopes Dylan can’t see the tightness in her lips as she tries to smile.

As Marsh takes a sip of her champagne, her phone lights up suddenly, jolting to life where she’s got it pinned between her thumb and the briefcase in its box with her other hand.

“It’s Jo,” she says, skimming the text message. She clears her throat quickly. “She’s over at Chrysalis now, and is demanding I join her.”

Chrysalis?

She’s seen that word before.

“Of course your celebration continues at the most exclusive bar in the city,” Dylan says. “Those views must be to die for.”

So Chrysalis is a bar now, Marsh muses. And if it’s the most exclusive bar in town, it must be on top of the Vanguard skyscraper, and is called Skyline outside the show.

She knows because, outside the Bubble, that’s the bar where the two of them celebrated their last anniversary, before everything fell apart. It was make or break, and Dylan had gone for the grand gesture. But Skyline was so exclusive, he couldn’t get a reservation, and they had to wait in line for two hours outside. Then, they couldn’t afford seats, and had to huddle at the standing-room-only bar, where they paid so much money for just one round of drinks that it pretty much ruined the whole evening.

And look at her now.

She’s a regular at this place, in this life.

Even so, she can’t help but wonder what subtle ripples this choice sent through the Bubble to have caused the bar’s name to change in this reality. But perhaps it doesn’t matter. If her life ends up perfect, who really cares what one exclusive bar ends up being named?

“Chrysalis! You should go,” Victor says as he passes by Marsh and Dylan again. “What good is a private table on the balcony if you never use it?”

Marsh blinks. Not only does she have enough power to get past the red velvet rope at Chrysalis, but she also has a private table there, apparently.

A phone buzzes again, but it’s not Marsh’s this time.

Victor pulls his own phone out of his pocket, and then chuckles at the screen. “Jo’s texting me now, to tell you to get your workaholic ass over there.”

“She never gives up on a good time.” Marsh rolls her eyes, but inside, she’s glowing to be so familiar with a titan like Victor that she and Jo would be on social text chains with him.

“Seriously, go,” Victor is saying as he pockets his phone and waves at some one across the room. “We’ll carry on here for another hour, but you deserve far more celebration than that for this case. Jo will make sure you get it.”

“I’ll think about it,” Marsh says. “I will.”

“I don’t want to see either of you roll in here tomorrow until at least eleven o’clock!” he demands as he departs.

“If you’re on your way to another party, I’ve got to get my congratulations in now!” another voice says, and Marsh looks up to see Dylan’s jaw drop open as Talia joins them.

She enjoys watching him cycle through his emotions. It’s the same process she went through the first time she saw Talia in person: surprise, disbelief, shock, euphoria, shock again.

“Dylan, this is—”

“Talia Cruz,” he says, starstruck.

“Charmed,” Talia says.

“It’s an honor,” he manages as he shakes her hand. “Wow, the people you rub shoulders with these days,” he adds to Marsh, and she tries not to flush with pride.

“We’re old pals,” Talia adds with a little wink. “But Marsh is really the star here tonight! What a victory!”

As they chat, Marsh’s phone buzzes impatiently once more, a string of emojis from Jo lighting up the screen. Marsh deduces from Jo’s choice of pictures that the crowd at Chrysalis tonight is very attractive.

“Looks like you’re going to have a good night whether you stay or go,” Talia says as she sees what Jo’s texted, and winks again. “That guy’s also been looking at you all evening.”

Marsh glances over her shoulder to see a man about her age in a sharp blue suit standing with another group of colleagues.

Adrian Jackson is looking at her. One of Mendoza-Montalvo and Hall’s best lawyers, after Victor and Jo. Although in this episode, maybe he’s also behind Marsh, now.

Moms4Marsh: Omg, he’s gorgeous!

He is gorgeous. Tall, athletic, with dark brown skin and a goatee. When he sees Marsh meet his gaze across the room, he raises his glass subtly to her and winks without missing a beat of conversation.

Marsh whips around again, flustered. She glances at Dylan, unable to help it, but he’s shrugging casually like this is entertaining for him, not hurtful or embarrassing. In this life, they’ve been amicably separated since Harper was a baby, after all. Any sadness over their divorce has long since faded, and been replaced with a comfortable co-parent relationship, she supposes.

But flirting right in front of him feels like a step too far.

Talia, however, seems to have other ideas.

“Well, I think I’ll go freshen up my drink,” she says pointedly, and Dylan takes the hint.

“Here, allow me,” he offers. “Would you like anything, Marsh?”

Marsh shakes her head, even though her mouth is suddenly cotton.

As Dylan heads to the bar, she stares at his back. He’s always carried his stress in his shoulders, and after decades, she could read his mood in the slope of his trapezius, the pinch of his scapula. Sometimes his mouth would say one thing, and his deltoids another. One could hide things, but the other never could, she knew well by now.

Talia clears her throat and nudges Marsh gently. “So, is this night just perfect, or what?” She giggles.

She looks surprised when Marsh throws up her arms.

“I don’t know!” she cries. “Everything feels so strange!”

“I understand,” Talia says, giving Adrian another appraising glance from across the room. “It must be hard to fully enjoy yourself in this scene with Dylan hanging around.”

Marsh’s gaze follows Talia’s, to Adrian’s blue blazer, his dark goatee—

Wait a second.

She looks again, confused.

Is that...?

“What?” Talia asks.

“Sorry,” Marsh shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”

For a second, she thought Ren was at the party—even though that would make no sense.

But it was just her imagination.

Her phone buzzes again. A string of joking profanity has unfurled itself across the screen, along with a pair of lips and a bunch of hearts.

That’s right! Jo’s still waiting for her at Chrysalis!

“What if we go to the bar?” Talia chirps, seizing the opportunity. “You can spend some time with Jo, let loose a little, enjoy yourself without your ex peeking over your shoulder...”

“It’s more than just that,” Marsh says. “I’m finally a lawyer now, but at what cost? Harper’s whole childhood was with us separated, and Dylan’s career is totally rewritten. This is too far.”

“It’s all right. These are big changes! There are going to be a few kinks to work out in every path,” Talia says.

“But this?” Marsh shakes her head. “I wanted to make my life better—not ruin Dylan’s. It’s not fair to him.”

N3vrGiv3Up: We love you, Marsh! Always thinking of others!

Notamackerel: She’s just a coward!

Marsh pushes away the comments, frustrated.

It isn’t fair—that she put two decades of labor into something now not over but erased, that Harper didn’t get to grow up with the family she had outside the Bubble, that Dylan’s life is hollow, diminished.

It isn’t fair that even if she’d choose to leave this path for all those reasons, the trolls still may be right.

Talia holds her gaze calmly. “A little panic is normal in the beginning, but let’s not jump the gun. You’ve wanted to be a lawyer for so long, and now you finally are! You want to give it up again so easily?”

Marsh frowns, but finally shakes her head. “I don’t,” she says.

“Of course not!” Talia agrees.

Marsh looks up as the show’s familiar jingle cuts gently in through the party’s stereo speakers, announcing her next choice.

“This is all part of the process,” Talia promises her. “You’re so early in your season. Just give this path a little more time. See how you like being a lawyer at the top of her game! And then if you still decide you want something else, we can do that. Deal?”

Marsh nods. “Deal.”

Talia knows what she’s doing. And she’s right. What would be the harm of staying in this version a little longer, even if things are a little skewed? Hasn’t she had to skew her own life for everyone else’s, for years? What’s another episode or two?

“Remember, Marsh—”

Marsh turns to see Talia wink at her.

“You could have All This ...”

Marsh smiles back. “ And More, ” she replies.