THE NEXT TWENTY YEARS

We climb into bed, the icy uneasiness of the dinner conversation slowly melting away thanks to the body heat between us. I know it all comes with the territory –the hampering mother, the recognition by random strangers, the longing looks, etc. It's nothing I can't handle.

Nothing that won't dissipate with time.

Cece rolls into me and rests her head on my chest, burrowing her nose into my skin.

"It won't always be like this," Cece says as if reading my mind.

"I know." I lie to both of us.

"One day I'll be old and wrinkly and no one will even recognize me on the streets," she jokes. "And I'll tell my mother to let up."

"Let up?" My lips move against the back of her hair.

"Let us plan our own wedding."

"Oh, right."

Cece cozies up to my chest. I peer down at her and think about doing this -cuddling -when she's old and wrinkly and we're both old and gray. Something settles in my chest. Not sure what it is TBH.

Not sure I'll ever be sure.

...

I think about her for the briefest of moments before I open my eyes. I can feel the pillow beneath my cheek, can smell the salty air coming in from the open balcony, and can almost taste her lips on mine.

Emmy.

Rolling over to grab my phone from the bedside, I finally open my eyes. I'm in my same suite at Star Resorts, no surprise there. My suitcase is sprawled across the sofa lounge and Cece's long red dress hangs in the doorway.

"Morning hubs," Cece says, emerging from the bathroom and jumping on the bed to kiss my cheek. Her caramel hair is piled high on her head in a messy bun. "Oh, have you seen my black strappy heels? Swear they were in the suit case."

"Hey," I smile softly. "Morning to you too. No I haven't seen the shoes."

"I'm glad you finally slept in a bit, babe, but remember we have the press in an hour before the launch," Cece reminds me, pointing at the time on her watch. "You promised."

"I remember, I remember. I'll be ready." I half groan, yawning and stretching myself awake.

Cece skirts off the bed and disappears into the bathroom again. She leaves the door ajar and I hear the hair dryer start.

I let my eyes wander back to her red dress. In a few hours' time she'll be wearing it (and the strappy heels) at the soft launch of her newest film. I can't believe it's been almost three years since the release of Exposé. I pull open my calendar and bring up today's date: May 16, 2025.

My thumb still runs over the wedding ring on my left ring finger. I do it absentmindedly and out of habit and maybe a little bit to remind myself it's real. You'd think after 2 year I'd be used to it.

It takes some mental effort to drag myself from bed, run cold water on my face, and slip into the button-down that Cece's carefully laid out for me. At least I don't have to worry about ever dressing myself again, right?

Twenty minutes later, the two of us are exiting the elevator into the crowded lobby. We make our way through the throng of fans and under the flashing bright lights that threaten to blind us at every turn. I'm hardly fazed by it anymore.

This is life with Cece Majors. No. Cece Brooks. At least that's what she goes by in a very Hailey Bieber fashion. On paper she's still Cece Majors.

"Cece! CECE, OVER HERE!"

"There she is!"

"Any plans for the anniversary? Sources say you're expecting, any comment?"

"Can you comment?" Another greedy reporter asks.

"Ugh, ignore them." Cece growls under her breath, never breaking her smile.

"Cece Brooks! Cece, can you tell us about your upcoming premiere?" I hear the loudest reporter shouting across the tiled lobby.

We duck and dodge, holding hands for all the cameras. I see the path ends at the door to Star Resorts' Lounge, the very same lounge where my dad hosted the launch party all those years ago. Swallowing a rising lump, I push the memory from my mind.

"It's showtime!" Cece beams, squeezing my hand.

"Let's go," I smile sideways, hoping it shows more support than I currently feel and praying it hides everything else.

...

I step over the Rain body wash Cece keeps on the floor. Steam from the shower fills the room, fogging over the mirror above the vanity. I wrap the towel around my waist and smear the mirror with the back of my arm.

Today is my birthday and if nothing else, at least 40 looks good on me.

I have the whole day to myself. Why? Because Cece is Amalfi Coast-side on our tropical getaway. She's been there all week, staying at one of her parents' villas. I was supposed to fly out to meet her yesterday, but work issues arose, one thing led to the other, and that was the end of that.

Cece and I moved out of our first downtown apartment about six years ago. Our house is spacious and airy and very Hollywood, if that even makes any sense. It's a mid-century bungalow and reminds me of a movie set. Well, it's home to all of Cece's photoshoots now, so it almost counts as a set.

Brody and Lauren video chat me from their house in New York. Their two kids are screaming and running around in the backyard. I end up more depressed and alone than before I called them. My mind plays all my old birthdays on its movie screen and I soon find myself wondering what all my old friends are up to now.

Travis and Nate texted me this morning. They text me every year, without fail. I don't talk much to anyone else anymore. Not Alex. Not her. Sometimes it seems like I blinked and everything sort of passed me by. Cece and I never had kids (yet at least) because she's been laser focused on her career and her modeling and her being boujee as hell.

I've also been focused on Edge, on building the empire, on occupying myself so much with my work that I can forget everything I don't have -everything I didn't end up with. If that makes any sense. Fuck, I think a lot about when we were young. All of us. And we didn't know it. We had forever, so we got lost like Lost Kings.

I finish what's left if my leftovers from last night and toss the take out container into the trash. I grab my keys, throw on my hoodie, and decide to head out to Edge. If I have to spend my birthday in solitude, I can't think of a better place than on the Roof.

...

Another 10 long years have passed since Cece and I had that fateful kid-free life conversation. I'm only going to be 50, but that somehow feels like 1000. And not just because my knees are shot and my hair finally has some salt in its pepper.

I'm realizing, as we sit hand-in-hand on our Mediterranean balcony right now, that spending Christmas Eve alone (well, almost alone) is not all I used to think it was. Sure, no paparazzi, no obligatory family dinners with problematic aunts and uncles, and definitely zero chaos gift exchanging for 50 people. But also... no family dinners, no nieces and nephews, and zero traditions. Unless tradition is a new island every year.

I guess that's something. Still, it's not the something I always had in mind for myself. For my life. Forever.

...

The image behind my eyelids is dark before I open them. Of course it would be dark, but I mean in another way –one that has nothing to do with the absence of light. There's a pit in my stomach and an emptiness I can't explain for shit.

But it's like I know it must have been a dream. Because that's the only way that life would make sense to me.

A whole life that shifted with every blink of an eye. A whole life that was nothing I ever wanted. 

A whole life without Emmy.