Page 18 of The Spirit of Love

“Or maybe he was lying?” I wonder aloud. “What he said about my writing. Just trying to butter me up so I don’t throw a wrench in the works? Oh my God, it almost worked.”

“That feels like a stretch,” Masha says gently.

“There’s something about him,” I go on, reaching for more champagne. “Something that’s not quite right. Like he’s hiding something. Wearing a mask.”

“But isn’t that why people move to LA?” Olivia asks. “To hide the ugly things inside? To try on endless masks?”

“You’re right. Who cares about his secrets,” I say, crossing that one off my mental list of bullet points. “The problem is, he has no idea what he’s doing. I need to get rid of him. For the good of the show.”

“Of course,” Liv nudges me. “For the good of the show.”

I watch her and Masha exchange glances over my head. I put down my champagne because I need them to take me seriously. I need to focus, to make a plan.

“That’s not the worst part,” I tell them.

Olivia and Masha look at each other again.

“Jude de Silva also…bears an uncanny resemblance to…to…” I hold my face in my hands.

“To who?” Olivia demands.

“To a man I met this weekend.”

“WHAT?” Masha and Olivia say together.

I close my eyes and tell myself I’m safe.

I try to transport myself to that beach on Catalina.

To Friday night, when I’d been happily sheltering in my tent, preparing for the shoot that wasn’t to be.

I’ve lived so many lifetimes since that sundown, but still, it’s strangely easy to go right back to the moment when Sam unzipped my tent.

“His name is Sam. We met Friday night, and I ended up staying with him. At his cabin. All weekend.”

“Girl, you’ve been holding out on your friends,” Yas says.

“There’s more. When we slept together, it melted my bones,” I say. “Or maybe my brain. I think something’s wrong with me now. Because this morning on set, I really thought that Jude was Sam.”

Masha nods at me. “Unpack that a little for us.”

“Do they look alike?” Olivia asks.

“Yes and no. Jude is older. And their hair and clothes and vibes could not be more different, but somehow I still…acted like an absolute lunatic when we met. I acted like he was Sam.”

“I used to see my ex everywhere,” Yas says. “Cutting me off in his Audi on Crescent Heights and Melrose—”

“You’re right,” I say. “I’m losing my mind.”

“That’s actually not what I was saying—”

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Fenny,” Masha says, putting a hand on my arm. “You just had a big shock today.”

“And this weekend, too, it seems,” Olivia says. “Meet-cute, now . How did all this happen with Sam?”

And so, while Yas helps Olivia back into her thousand-buttons dress, I tell them this story, too.

About the weekend, the storm, the evacuation, Sam’s Jeep and the cabin, and the beauty he showed me on the island.

I keep my eyes closed so I can see him, keep him distinct from Jude.

It’s easy—it’s a warm and happy memory. But when I open my eyes, it feels so far away that it hurts.

“Name, age, occupation?” Masha asks me. “You and I agree, these details matter.”

“And what about the first moment you knew you wanted him?” Olivia says.

“Sam. Twenty-three.” I wait for my friends to finish whistling. “Catalina Island Conservancy Search and Rescue.” I look at Olivia, grateful for her question. “I knew I wanted him when…well, first we had a little disagreement over whether or not I needed to evacuate the campsite.”

“Go on,” Oliva says, sitting down on a stool facing the couch.

“At a certain point he kind of tossed me over his shoulder. And climbed the mountain with me in his arms.”

“Holy shit,” Masha says.

“For a split second, I was furious, but once I felt myself in his arms, everything shifted. I pretended to be just as pissed as ever—”

“I’ve seen you do that very convincingly,” Olivia says.

“But I knew. The chemistry was undeniable. Like, on a carbon level. And then, he just kept surprising me.”

“Keep talking,” Olivia says, crossing her legs. “This is gold.”

“You know the game Scattergories?” I ask.

Masha nods. “Eli and I play it on Tuesday nights.”

“Of course you do,” Olivia says and turns to me. “Do not tell me you bonded over board games. This triangle already has a Masha.”

“No. You know the die that comes with the game?” I ask.

“With all the letters?” Masha says.

“Your man,” Yas explains, like everyone but her is an idiot, “has many different sides.”

“Yes,” I say. “He was this bossy rescue hero man who turned into a gracious bed-and-breakfast host, then a ferocious bodybuilder, then a gifted artist whose medium is wood—”

“But whose wood, I gather, isn’t medium,” Olivia says.

“He was such a boy ,” I say, delaying the inevitable sex discussion. “Not just because he’s younger. I mean, like, the kind you fall for at first, when you’re finding out how it feels to have a crush.” I sigh. “He built a zip line.”

“For you?” Masha asks.

“We went jet-skiing and spearfishing. We traded viewfinders. His was a stone he found on the beach—” I touch my hand to my chest where I’m still wearing the adder stone, tucked under my shirt.

“Terrific foreplay,” Olivia says.

I close my eyes and let myself remember Sam kissing my naked body on the beach. How it hadn’t felt ridiculous when he proposed moving mountains. For me.

“When are you seeing him again?” Masha asks.

“I don’t know.” I don’t want to tell them about my final moments yesterday with Sam, the strained and noncommittal way we said goodbye. “Maybe it was just a fling.”

Olivia shakes her head. “Fenny don’t fling.”

“It’s true. I don’t. Unless, maybe…I did? I don’t even know his last name.”

“Fenny,” Masha says, “you know where Sam lives. If you want to see him again, you simply go back to Catalina, knock on his door. He’ll be thrilled to see you.”

“Olivia,” I implore. “Please reason with this raging romantic. She and Eli agreed on the name of their firstborn child before they finished their first kiss.”

“Masha believes in love,” Olivia concedes, shoulder bumping her oldest friend. “Maybe it’s time you did, too.”

I put my face in my hands again. “Not cool.”

“Look,” Olivia tells me, “I know what it’s like to feel you’ve missed your only sail on destiny’s dreamboat.

I know what it’s like to waste years blaming that missed chance on him .

I’m also living proof that second chances are real.

And they don’t seize themselves. Maybe right now it feels like you’ll never see Sam again.

Like it was a fling and it’s over. But someday, Fen?

You, too, could be one boob in and one boob out of a dress you might be allergic to.

” She sneezes, and Masha fishes out a Zyrtec from her purse.

“I don’t know,” I say sadly. “I think it’s over. Just like my career. Maybe I should quit the show,” I say.

“No!” Olivia says.

“You’re not quitting,” Masha says.

“Maybe you take a few personal days,” Olivia says, getting an idea. “Just while you sort out your emotions around these very real, complex life challenges. I like this plan because it would also allow you to skip that Zombie Hospital travel shoot Sunday and join us for my skydiving bachelorette!”

Masha winces. “That’s still the plan for your bachelorette?”

Olivia crosses her arms. “It will never not be the plan. ‘Our valor is to chase what flies’!”

“No, you’re right,” I say. “I can’t quit.

And I can’t miss the travel shoot. Who but me can stop Jude from fucking up everything we had planned for the season opener?

No, I’ll just have to sit on the sidelines, watching him live my dream.

” I muster a smile for Olivia. “Otherwise, you know I’d jump out of a plane with you any day,” I say, mouthing to Masha behind Olivia’s back, Not .

The door to LouLou’s chimes, and in glides Olivia’s mom and podcast cohost, the inimitable Lorena Dusk. She’s decked out in one of her mai-tai-shaded ombré pantsuits with an orchid behind her ear.

“Liv, baby!” Lorena says, tearing up, palms cupped to her face. “You look like a princess, honey. I see you at the altar with curls. It’s perfect. All we have to do is dye the dress white—”

“Mom, my palette is purple and green—”

“White is purity, baby. It’s tradition. Vir—”

“Don’t say virginal . That’s exactly why Jake and I are eschewing it. We like purple and green.”

“Then…I like purple and green!” Lorena says. “Your late father, on the other hand, may he rest—”

“Mom!” Olivia says. “Sit down. Talk to Fenny while Yas gets me out of this dress. Tell her Jung’s take on synchronicities!”

“What about some champagne for the matriarch?” Lorena calls out, sitting down next to me.

“A synchronicity, honey, is an acausal connecting principal. Linked events stronger than coincidence that occur separately in time. They can’t be explained, only acknowledged.

” She smirks. “You know, my daughter only invokes psychological buzzwords when she wants to shut me up, but if you actually want to know—”

“I do, Lorena,” I say, clinking my glass sadly with hers. “I need help.”

After Masha, Olivia, and Yas help me fill in Lorena on each new cringeworthy angle of my life, Lorena sits for a moment and thinks.

“Classic presentation of erotic conflation,” the mistress of advice says at last.

“So what does that mean?” I ask. “How bad is it?”

“Well, I made it up,” Lorena says. “But you seeing the same physical features in your work rival as in your recent fling tells me that there’s something not quite right about the connection you made with this Sam individual.

There’s a rift somewhere between you two, something you don’t want to confront. ”

“I wanted to stay in touch,” I admit. “I don’t think he did.”

“What a fool,” Lorena says kindly. “So you’re superimposing Sam’s features onto Jude de Silva, a completely separate person whom, due to professional circumstances, you are already primed to hate.

To destroy. Your subconscious is helping you set emotional boundaries with Sam via the physical form of Jude.

I’d recommend not shying away from this Jude de Silva.

Love him or hate him, there’s something he’s showed up to teach you. ”