I stared at the headline in disbelief. One would think that tabloids wouldn't be able to follow my every move here in Cleveland, but apparently I had underestimated them. There was a very bad picture of me, taken as I rushed over to visit Emmett in prison yesterday. "Victoria Chase makes late night visit to incarcerated fiancee," it read. "The former soap queen is engaged to Sir Emmett Lawson, who is currently in prison for tax evasion. Considering how all of Chase's previous marriages have ended, Lawson is probably better off in jail than with her!"

"I don't believe this," I said to Joy. She came over to look at the article I had pulled up on my laptop.

"Honey, I know it's a bad picture, but so what? It's just a rubbish tabloid article. I wouldn't give it another thought."

That was easy for her to say. Being an actress means that you are constantly being criticized. I once read a review of one of my Lifetime movies, Lady Storm Chaser, that was so bad, I didn't leave my penthouse for a week. Ever since then, I've done my best to not read negative press, but I tend to Google myself a lot, and sometimes the results aren't pretty. "But this is such an invasion of my privacy! I mean, what kind of world are we living in when you can't even visit someone in prison without reporters commenting on it?"

But that wasn't what bothered me most. It was the tabloid's suggestion that I was a horrible wife. Of course, after all those conversations with my exes, I was well aware that I wasn't a particularly good wife, but the idea that Emmett would be better off in jail than with me stung.

"Victoria, the tabloids have been after you since Edge of Tomorrow. You should be used to it by now."

"Yes, but that was back in LA. You're supposed to be followed by paparazzi there. It means you're a celebrity. But this is Cleveland, where nobody is famous!"

"But you're here, and you're famous. And so is Emmett. This really isn't a big deal. It's just one tiny little article. Who's even going to read it?"

Just then Elka came in, with a huge grin on her face. "Hey, Victoria, look what I found at the checkout counter?!" She held up a printed copy of the same tabloid, open to my article.

Joy saw the horrified look on my face. "Just ignore her. She's just angry because most of the good men in her age range are dead!" She gave our elderly roommate a glare, which was immediately returned. Usually I enjoy their banter, but I was in no mood for it right now.

"Joy, people are apparently reading this article! They're reading about how I'm a horrible wife!" I just couldn't hold my anger in any longer.

"That's really what's upsetting you, isn't it?" All those hours of therapy have made Joy a bit too smart for her own good, if you ask me.

"Yes, OK? I know I've screwed up before, but I really want this marriage to be different."

"It will be," Joy said. "Remember what you told that guard? You said you needed Emmett. And he needs you right now, too. I know it's not going to be easy, but I think you could make this work."

Her words surprised me. Joy has never been a fan of marriage. It's a fact she brings up at every opportunity. "Thanks, Joy."

Joy smiled and hugged me. "You're welcome. Now just forget about that bloody article. I'm sure that you and Emmett are going to be happy together."

Elka had been listening to our conversation. "Yeah. And if you're not, what the hell? At least it'll give the tabloids something to write about!"

"Elka! Why don't you go and do something constructive, like scaring the neighbor children, or violating the law?"

"Huh! Look who's talking," Elka shot back. "We shared a cell once, remember?"

"I still have nightmares about it!"

Strangely, Joy and Elka's exchange of insults calmed me down. It's become such a regular part of life in this house, like Melanie's incessant cheerfulness, or visit from our annoying Midwestern neighbors. I began to ignore them, and went back to reading more articles about me from Google. "Ooh, I've now got more Twitter followers than Susan Lucci!" Yes, suddenly, I felt on top of the world.

The End