Chapter 411: CH : 400 This Part Is The Sweetest

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"So I bought books instead."

Marvin smiled faintly. "Cheaper than therapy."

She looked at him with amused surprise. "I’ve said almost exactly that."

She guided him farther through the house.

The sitting room opened into a narrow hallway lined with framed photographs.

None of them were publicity stills or magazine covers.

They were pieces of a life.

Friends crowded around a dinner table, laughing at something the camera could no longer remember. Sun-bleached snapshots from Australia. Family gatherings. Quiet moments no publicist would ever stage.

Marvin’s eyes drifted from frame to frame.

Then he noticed what wasn’t there.

Not a single photograph of Nicole and Tom.

Not one.

The empty spaces told the story better than any picture could.

Whatever had once hung there was gone.

Not carefully packed away. Not quietly moved into storage. Gone.

Ripped from the walls in a moment of hurt, leaving only memories she hadn’t cared to replace.

She had never bothered filling the gaps. Some absences deserved to remain visible.

"You don’t keep many industry photographs."

"I see enough of those at work." She touched one frame gently. "I wanted this place to remind me there was a life before Hollywood."

They reached the glass doors leading to the patio.

Moonlight shimmered across the ocean beyond.

"The view convinced me to buy the place," Nicole admitted.

"I couldn’t afford it."

"I bought it anyway."

Marvin laughed quietly. "So you’ve always made questionable financial decisions?"

"Oh, absolutely. I simply hide them better now."

The breeze swept through the open doorway, lifting loose strands of her blonde hair.

She tucked them behind one ear. "We’d usually sit outside."

"But the wind’s too strong tonight."

Without thinking, she started toward the opposite hallway.

Halfway there she stopped.

Her eyes lingered for the smallest moment in the direction of the master bedroom before she casually turned elsewhere.

"And..." She smiled almost too quickly. "...that’s everything."

Marvin noticed. He said nothing. The unasked question remained exactly where she wanted it.

Unspoken.

Instead she led him into the kitchen. Compared with the rest of the house, it felt almost rustic.

Copper pans hung above the island. Fresh herbs rested beside the window.

Three candles flickered in the middle of a small table already set for two.

Nicole looked faintly embarrassed. "I hope you don’t mind."

"I cooked." Marvin looked from the table to her.

"You cooked?"

"I had help preparing some of it."

She laughed. "I’m not arrogant enough to claim every dish. But I insisted on finishing them myself. And I spent most of the afternoon worrying I’d ruin everything."

"You?"

"I burn toast surprisingly often."

That earned another laugh from him. "I’ll pretend I never heard that."

"Please do." She rested one hand lightly against the back of a chair. "So..."

"What do you think?"

Marvin took another slow look around. The room wasn’t extravagant.

Nothing in it tried to impress. It felt warm. Personal. Comfortable.

Finally he met her eyes. "It’s beautiful."

Nicole felt her heartbeat stumble. "The house?"

"The house." He smiled. "And the woman who made it feel like a home."

For a second she simply stared at him.

Then she looked away with an embarrassed smile she couldn’t suppress. "You do have a way with words."

"I write for a living."

"And I was beginning to think writers only existed in films."

"They’re usually less charming than advertised."

"I don’t believe that."

"No?"

"No."

She held his gaze for another moment before the aroma of butter, roasted garlic and fresh herbs drifted between them.

Marvin breathed it in and smiled.

"I have to confess something."

"What?"

"I’m starving."

Nicole laughed, the tension finally breaking. "I was wondering how long you’d keep pretending not to notice the food."

"I was trying to be polite here lady..."

"You’ve succeeded."

She moved toward the kitchen island and lifted the silver covers one by one.

Steam curled gently into the air.

"Now..."

She looked back at him, her smile warmer than before. "...come and sit. I’d rather hear your opinion of dinner than the critics’ opinion of my latest film."

As Nicole set the dishes on the table one by one, Marvin’s gaze drifted across the spread before settling on her again.

A faint smile tugged at his lips. "So many oysters?"

Nicole looked almost embarrassed by the question.

"They’re French Belons," she said, smoothing an invisible crease in the tablecloth. "You mentioned on set once that you liked oysters. It was only a passing comment, but..." She gave a tiny shrug. "I remembered."

She looked up, searching his expression. "They were flown in this morning."

Marvin blinked. "You remembered something I said months ago?"

"I remember more than people think."

There was no vanity in the answer.

Only quiet honesty.

She lifted another silver cover. "And these..."

Steam escaped into the room.

"...are Tasmanian lobsters. Fresh this morning." A hint of home softened her voice. "My father always insisted Tasmania had the best seafood in Australia."

She smiled to herself. "I’ve never argued with him." Another platter followed. "Pan-seared scallops. A little lemon. A little butter. I was hoping the sauce wouldn’t overpower them."

She hesitated before adding with a self-conscious laugh, "I may have tasted it six times."

Marvin looked around the table again.

The meal wasn’t extravagant simply for the sake of extravagance.

Every dish had been chosen because she’d remembered something he’d once said.

That realization touched him far more than the food itself.

He looked back at her. "You made all of this?"

Nicole nodded. "I did. Well..."

She corrected herself with an amused smile. "I had the ingredients prepared. But everything you see on the table, I cooked. I wanted tonight to feel..."

She searched for the word. "...personal."

Marvin leaned back slightly, studying her. "A Hollywood actress standing over a stove for half the afternoon. I never thought I’d see the day."

Nicole laughed, shaking her head. "You sound genuinely shocked."

"I am."

"You shouldn’t be."

"I grew up cooking. Not because I particularly loved it. Because sometimes there wasn’t anyone else to do it." Her smile softened. "Life became rather different after that."

The sentence carried more weight than she intended.

After the success of Vietnam, assistants, nutritionists and private chefs had quietly replaced ordinary routines.

Meals simply appeared. Someone else worried about calories. Someone else worried about schedules.

Somewhere along the way, she’d stopped cooking altogether.

So much so that even her husband, Tom Cruise, had never tasted a meal prepared by her.

She glanced down at the dishes. "I was terrified I’d forgotten how."

This was precisely why she’d chosen seafood. Knowing her culinary skills were rusty, seafood offered a simple way to impress him without risking a disaster.

Marvin looked from the food back to her. "You cooked because you wanted to impress me."

Nicole’s cheeks immediately turned pink. "I..." She laughed awkwardly. "Was I really that obvious?"

"You’ve been obvious all evening."

Instead of teasing her further, his smile softened.

"I happen to think it’s charming."

She lowered her eyes, hiding another smile. "Then I’d better hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"It already does."

She looked back up. "You haven’t even tried it. I wasn’t talking about the food."

For a heartbeat neither of them moved.

Nicole was the first to break eye contact.

She reached for the chair opposite his, intending to sit down.

Then she stopped. Her brows drew together. Something looked... Different. She studied him openly.

Marvin noticed. "What?"

Nicole stepped closer without thinking. "You’ve grown."

He raised an eyebrow. "So I’ve been told."

"No..." She shook her head slowly. "I mean you’ve actually grown."

She stood beside him, comparing their height.

When filming *The Others* had begun, she had instinctively looked down whenever they spoke.

Now...

She hardly needed to.

Her hand came to rest lightly on his shoulder as she measured the difference. "You weren’t this tall yesterday."

"I was."

"No." She laughed. "You absolutely weren’t."

Marvin smiled. "I crossed five foot five this morning."

Nicole stared. "In one night?"

"It has been happening for weeks. My parents nearly dragged me into hospital. They were convinced something was terribly wrong."

The colour drained from Nicole’s face. "You went to hospital?"

"I did."

"What did they say?" The concern in her voice arrived so quickly that neither of them missed it.

She wasn’t asking out of politeness. She was frightened.

Marvin saw it immediately. "They ran every test they could think of."

"And?"

"And apparently I’m boringly healthy."

Nicole didn’t smile. She kept looking at him. "They’re certain?"

"They wanted me back for more tests. They found nothing. Just an unusually aggressive late growth spurt."

Only then did the tightness leave her shoulders.

She let out a slow breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. "Oh..."

Her fingers were still resting on his shoulder.

She hadn’t noticed. "I’m glad." The words escaped quietly. "So very glad."

Her thumb moved unconsciously against the fabric of his shirt before she caught herself.

She withdrew her hand halfway, then stopped. "I know that probably sounds ridiculous."

"It doesn’t."

She looked at him. "I’ve spent enough time around hospitals. Enough to hate waiting rooms. Enough to hate hearing someone say, ’We’ll know more after the tests.’"

A faint sadness crossed her face. "For a moment..." She smiled apologetically."I imagined the worst."

Marvin reached up and gently closed his hand over hers.

His touch was warm. Steady.

"I’m all right, Nicole." His voice was quiet enough that she felt it more than heard it. "I’m not going anywhere."

She searched his face for another long moment before finally believing him.

The tension eased from her expression. "Good." Her smile returned, softer than before. "Because I’d be terribly cross with you if you scared me like that again."

Marvin chuckled. "I’ll do my best not to alarm one of Australia’s finest actresses."

Nicole laughed. "I’ll hold you to that."

He released her hand reluctantly and glanced toward the dinner waiting on the table.

"Now..." He pulled her chair out for her. "...shall we rescue your masterpiece before it goes cold?"

Nicole’s smile widened. "I was beginning to think you’d never let me feed you."

They settled into an easy rhythm almost without noticing it.

Dinner ceased to be dinner after the first few minutes. It became an excuse to linger.

Candles burned quietly between them, their light softening the room until the rest of the house seemed to disappear. Beyond the windows, the Pacific rolled endlessly toward the shore, each wave arriving with the same patient certainty.

Nicole found herself smiling more than she had in months.

"You have to try this," she said, cutting a small piece of abalone. "It’s my favorite."

She offered it across the table.

Marvin accepted it without ceremony.

He chewed thoughtfully before nodding once. "You’ve ruined restaurants for me."

Nicole laughed. "That good?"

"I was prepared to compliment your cooking." He reached for another bite. "Now I’ll have to compliment your honesty. This is genuinely good."

She rested her chin lightly against her hand. "I’ve been worrying about that since this afternoon."

"The food?"

"Everything." She laughed at herself. "I must have checked the kitchen twenty times. I almost called to cancel."

Marvin looked up. "You?"

"I was nervous." Nicole shrugged sheepishly. "It sounded ridiculous every time I said it out loud, so I kept cooking instead."

"You don’t strike me as someone who gets nervous very often."

"I don’t."

She smiled faintly. "That’s probably why it bothered me so much."

He studied her for a moment. "I’m glad you didn’t cancel."

"So am I."

The answer came so quickly she surprised herself.

She cleared her throat and reached for the lobster instead. "Here. This part is the sweetest."

She placed another portion onto his plate. "You’ve barely touched yours.

"I’m watching you enjoy it."

"You realize that’s impossible."

"Why?"

"Because now I feel guilty."

She laughed again. "Good. I finally have leverage."

Marvin shook his head with quiet amusement. "So this entire dinner was an elaborate strategy?"

"It may have been."

"And here I thought it was hospitality."

"It can be both."

The conversation drifted naturally from food to Australia.

Nicole spoke about beaches, long drives with her family, and missing the smell of rain after a hot summer afternoon.

Marvin listened more than he spoke.

She noticed. "You always do that."

"What?"

"You actually listen."

He smiled. "I thought that’s what conversations were for."

"You’d be surprised." Her expression softened. "Most people are only waiting for their turn."

They spoke about books. About old films. About directors who inspired them.

About performances that had changed the way they looked at acting.

Somewhere between dessert and wine and juice, Hollywood disappeared entirely.

****

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