The Employer

Chapter 21

Celeste Peters

I'm bawling my eyes out. Mufasa (spoiler alert) just fucking died.

"It's okay, Celeste." Laila says and pats me on the shoulder. "It's just a cartoon. You don't have to be sad." I almost laugh at the reversal of roles here.

Nina jumps off of the other couch and comes over to me. She sits in my lap wordlessly and continues to keep her eyes glued to the screen.

"You're right. I don't know why I'm crying." I wipe the tears out of my eyes and glance at Marc whose lips are quirked. Each time our eyes lock, my chest tightens and my stomach trembles as if he's touching me again. Except we aren't right next to each other. There's a nearly empty pizza box between us on the dark wooden coffee table. He's laying on the couch facing the TV with Laila beside him, and I'm on the other couch, with Nina now snuggling up against me.

The lights are out and the sun has mostly set, the only brightness in the room is now coming from the large plasma TV on the wall.

"It's all acting. It's not real," Nina whispers. Her body is shaking a little and I place an arm around her, holding her tight as we continue to watch The Lion King.

Even though Marc's presence is distracting, I'm invested in this film, lost in its storyline. That's kind of how today has been though—losing myself in whatever activity we've done or conversation that's been had. I want to lock everything about today in my heart forever, remember every word that was spoken, every feeling that swept through me. There's something about this house and these people I'm with that makes me feel like I can forget about all my problems, and just be. And when I watch Simba—a lion who feels guilty and unworthy of his role in life—adopt the Hakuna Matata lifestyle before going back home to face his responsibilities, I'm reminded of where I am now. Who would've thought a fucking lion film would throw me into an existential crisis.

When the movie ends, I'm clamoring for The Lion King 2 along with the girls. I'm not sure whether Marc's agreement is because he's outnumbered, or he's enjoying this time as much as we are.

It isn't long into the second movie when I feel the weight of the pizza settle deep into my stomach and my eyelids become heavy. I drift off to sleep, dreaming of Nina and Laila asking me to paint with them, and then dreaming of the small, hidden touches between Marc and I. Warmth surrounds me. I'm moving in and out of consciousness, unable to make sense of where I am, what those whispers are saying, or what the momentary warmth against my cheek is from.

When I finally wake, the room is pitch black, save for the soft moonlight streaming in through the windows. I glance around, rubbing my eyes. No one else is here.

Grabbing my phone, I find that it's almost ten PM—past the girls' bedtime. My ribs grow tight as I hold my breath for a second. The day is over and I missed the last bit of it. That fucking sucks.

My hands press against the soft blanket draped over me. Marc must have covered me before leaving for his room. The thought wakes me up even more and I get up from the couch. Could he still be awake? I leave the studio den and tiptoe down the wide, carpeted hall. The girls' doors are closed. I've never been in Marc's room but I know that it's further down the hall. Is he awake? My erratic pulse propels my feet forward.

I stop in front of his door and press a hand softly against the wood. The thing is, earlier today Marc told me we needed to keep our space. We can't be alone together anymore until we've figured out what this means. I remember the intensity in his eyes when he said that. But, would he say the same thing after our time together today? My mind flitters over to images of Marc shirtless and in his swim trunks, and then to the moment he caught me topless and his erection nearly poked my eye out.