When he said goodbye to us, I invited him to a photo shoot I was doing the next day. “Maybe you’d want to stop by?”
“No, not really,” he answered quickly. “That is absolutely not my scene.” I wasn’t hurt because it made sense. He wasn’t interested in being some guy hanging out waiting.
“If we go out after maybe I’ll call you,” I said, having every intention of doing so. Once the shoot was finished, we met at Nobu in Hollywood, and Eric got a crash course in most of my girlfriends, my mom, and some of the girls who work on the Collection. Turkey showed up, a slash of red lipstick on her gorgeous mouth, and Lolo explained that Eric was originally meant for her. They thought that was hilarious, each certain it would never have worked out. They turned out to be soulmates in a different way and have become best friends.
It was at Nobu that I found out Eric was vegan and almost did a spit take. Well, I’m changing that, I thought. I did for a time, but he went back to eating that way. I watched him eat what amounted to salad stuffed into rice rolls and asked, “How are you happy? Aren’t you starving?” But I liked that athlete’s focus on his health, and I thought about my Papaw, and how he was always in tune with his body.
Eric and I kissed at the restaurant and then at the bar we all went to after. It’s a miracle no one saw us and told the press, but for the first time in years, I wasn’t even thinking of that. We came home and made love. It was Memorial Day Weekend, and he just stayed. In the morning, I watched him sit outside, with his feet in my koi pond, meditating. Who is this guy? I thought. I started taking pictures to send to my friends.
They got to see the real thing, because my friends were in and out all weekend. Through Eric’s eyes, I appreciated them even more. Other times, a boyfriend had meant I’d gone into exile, abandoning my girlfriends to focus on a relationship. But now it was like he was holding each one up like a gem, turning it to see the glorious uniqueness of each one. They saw something special in us, too, and the care we took with each other.
“Why are we acting like an old married couple?” Eric asked me that weekend.
This light walked into my life, and I remember the moment I realized I didn’t have to give him my light. We could share it and make things brighter for everybody. Welp, I thought, that’s refreshing. Yes, I was instantly infatuated with Eric. You know I fall in love too easily, but with him, we were both ready for the real deal.
Eric told his parents that he was dating me early on. Stephen and Mary Jo are from Boston and are very New England in their demeanor. They are brilliant and not very engaged with pop culture. His mother, who was a big firm lawyer at the time, expressed shock when he said he was dating Jessica Simpson, “the pop singer.”
“The one that shaved her head? She has two kids, right?”
“No, no,” he said. “I think you’re thinking of Britney Spears.”
“Well.”
When I met them, I could see how they raised someone like Eric. His parents were best friends, but they were also in love. My parents were just best friends. Meeting them showed me you could be both.
One night in June, Eric was reading something that quoted a Pablo Neruda line he repeated to me: “My soul is an empty carousel at sunset.” A poem in just one sentence. It stayed with me. I’d felt like that for a long while. Waiting for somebody to come along so I could be of use. But now I was a girl who ran to the carousel, gliding through the lights and the music, holding my breath as the horse went up and down. I felt exactly what I should: happiness. I wanted to go on this ride again and again, and I was always first in line to get back on, laughing as I whipped around one more time.
IN THE MIDST OF THIS, I’D PLANNED A GIRLS’ TRIP TO ITALY’S ISLE OF CAPRI for my thirtieth birthday in July. As we got closer, I realized how much I was going to miss Eric. My housekeeper Evelyn is the one who told me that I had to take him with me. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”
I flew us out to Capri along with Ashlee, my parents, and about a dozen girlfriends, and we had a gorgeous hotel high on a cliff. We girls all partied so hard the first night, Eric could barely keep up. With Ashlee and my crowd fully melded into one, we had become a happy-go-lucky band of ladies, just enjoying life.
I rented a yacht to take us from Capri to Pompeii. I’ll be honest, I wanted to see the stone phalluses that are peppered throughout the city’s walls and streets. So the day was basically one long penis joke. Someone had warned me that I had to wear sneakers because of the cobblestones. Now, I don’t even have flats, so I definitely didn’t have sneakers. So I got Asics and wore them with jean shorts and a muscle tee. I looked absolutely ridiculous. Meanwhile, Ashlee and all my friends were dressed for the cover of Italian Vogue. It was the least sexy I have felt in my entire life at a time when I was embracing the beauty of sex. But I had to laugh because I was having great sex.
On my birthday, we all had dinner at a restaurant, sitting outside by the sea. It was all my favorite people at one table, their beautiful faces lit by candlelight. Adrienne had a tradition where we each went around talking about what the birthday girl meant to them. I had never made a big deal about my birthday before, so this was the first time I was the focus of the ritual. What people said was so amazing. I think we move through the world assuming people know what they mean to us. But so often those assumptions fall short. I am one of those people who has a lot of best friends—I just love them all differently. But for some reason, a lot of those people just consider me their one best friend. I was so moved, but I kept it together until we got to CaCee. CaCee is so quick-witted, I expected a funny story.
“I am proud of you, Jessica,” she said. She talked about watching me bloom recently, moving away from fear and becoming a strong woman.
I began to weep, because I thought I had failed her in my divorce. She had come in and out of my life around John, and I thought I had broken her heart when I left Nick. With her speech, I felt released from that guilt—it was the best gift she could have given me. If someone I looked up to so much said she was proud of me, I had to be doing something right.
My friends and family surprised me with a cake, a gorgeous circle of icing flowers and one pink candle in the very center. I know I told you I believe in birthday wishes. As my friends finished singing “Happy Birthday,” I looked into the glow of the flame, made my wish, and blew it out.
Later, in our room, I sat on the bed and watched Eric doing half-naked QiGong in a corner. I loved him.
“Babe,” I said.
He looked over.
“I know we’re not supposed to tell our wishes, but I can’t keep my mouth shut about this one.”
He said nothing, just stood at the edge of the bed.
“This could scare you off,” I continued, “but I wished for a baby girl. And I would like to make that happen with you.”
He leaned over and kissed me. Our sex was always powerful, because we were both very present in our bodies, but that night it was spiritually explosive. The kind of love that makes miracles happen.
From then on, we were inseparable. I told him to just move in with me so we could start a family. We’d take it one day at a time, but our days went until four a.m. staying up talking. He brought his vintage record player and LPs, filling my home—our home—with his music, Bob Marley and reggae. And I made sure he knew every Willie, Waylon, and Hank I’d ever loved. The area where we always sat had a little fountain, and we lived in peace and gratitude that we’d found each other after not knowing we’d ever love again. When a dream falls through, you think maybe it’s lost forever. And there we were, ready to scoop it up and get that second chance.