ten
My flight landed around 3:00 p.m. on Thursday, the day before the premiere. I was practically jumping out of my seat by the time we neared LAX, energized by the nap I’d managed to catch on the plane.
I looked out my window, watching as the desert gave way to that decidedly Southern Californian terrain. When I glimpsed the ocean, I knew I was home.
Jack wanted so badly to pick me up at the airport, but he couldn’t for two reasons: one, he was booked solid with interviews and promotion, and two, there was no way he’d be able to dodge the paparazzi at the airport. There was always someone at the airport waiting to catch a star looking terrible after a transcontinental flight, and they’d be ecstatic to catch Jack picking up his unidentified redhead, whose legs would be locked firmly around his waist as he kissed her as only he could. Welcome home, indeed.
Since Holly was also occupied with All Things Premiere, we’d decided I’d catch a cab straight to my house. Jack had agreed to meet me there after his last interview and after he’d said good night to his father. His dad had flown in for the premiere, and while I was looking forward to meeting him tomorrow night, I was also severely nervous about such a big event. Jack had gotten tonight off from most of his “familial obligations,” as he called them, to “welcome me home in style.” Who was I to argue with that?
As I walked outside to the line of cabs, I was pleasantly surprised to hear my name, then see my very own car! Leaning on it, sunglasses firmly planted on his face and wearing a huge grin, was the cutest thing I’d ever seen: Nick. One of the sweetest guys Holly and I had ever known, he was a screenwriter with an even bigger crush on Jack than mine.
“Hey, bitch. I heard you needed a ride,” he deadpanned.
“I really do.” I laughed, hugging him fiercely. I’d missed my buddy.
After he threw my bag in the backseat, he headed to the driver’s side, but I held my hand out.
“No way. I’ve been riding on a subway and in cabs for weeks now. I need to drive my motherfucking car. Keys, please,” I instructed.
He handed them over. “I figured as much. Sunglasses?” he asked as I settled in.
“Sunglasses, check. Let’s go home.”
We drove the long way, avoiding the highways so I could soak up as much Cali weather as I could. With the top down in true Southern California style, we got caught up on everything as we drove PCH north, then turned east on Sunset for one of my favorite drives—the one Jack and I took months ago. I could feel the sun on my face, smell the tangy sea air, and I knew I’d never want to live anywhere else for the rest of my life.
We finally made it to Laurel Canyon, and just as I pulled up in front of my beautiful little bungalow, my phone rang. It was Jack. Nick kissed me on the cheek and hopped out as I answered the phone.
“Hey, love, hang on a second,” I said, and waved Nick back over to the car. “Thanks for coming to get me. It’s so good to be back! Will I see you tomorrow?”
“Oh, please, girl, I’m your date! I’m the beard who’s escorting you to the premiere and hoping I can get close to that costar Lane. Have you seen the body on that guy?” He trotted back to his car and sped out of the driveway.
I knew all eyes would be on Jack at the premiere, and with Holly managing every aspect of his career, I’d be more likely to sew my head to that red carpet than walk it with him. But I still wished I could walk with the man I loved on his special night.
“Who’s that you’re talking to, Grace?” Jack’s voice asked in my ear. “Back in town less than an hour and you’re picking up guys?” He laughed, and I smiled. Just the thought that Jack and I were back in the same city made my head swim.
“Ha-ha. That was Nick. He picked me up at the airport. Where are you?” I asked, schlepping my stuff toward the house.
Mmm, the lemon trees by my front door smelled intoxicating. I’d had a gardening service come by periodically to do some basic maintenance while I was away, and I was glad I had stood the expense—everything looked green, green, green.
“I’m just finishing up my last interview of the day, and you’ll be interested to know that one of these teeny bopper magazines has analyzed a sample of my handwriting. They’ve deduced from it that I’m artistic, highly motivated, and loyal.” He chuckled.
I turned the key, unlocking my home. “All true. Once you decided to woo me, you didn’t stop until you had me. Pretty motivated, as I recall.” I pushed through the door and walked inside. The smell of still-new construction, Pine-Sol, and my favorite white tea candles greeted me.
“Me, woo you? I think you have that backward, Nuts Girl. You were clearly throwing yourself at me from the moment I met you. You with your boobies talk and your saltines. You were on the prowl.”
“Yes, saltine spit-up is a wooing trick I’ve been using for years and years.” I laughed as I set my bag down and began opening windows. The light poured in, and I could feel the late-afternoon sun on my skin. I didn’t even realize how much I’d missed it until I sighed out loud.
“Glad to be home?” he asked.
“You have no idea, George. When are you coming over?” I sank into one of my fluffy couches in the living room.
“Right after I have an early dinner with my dad. I’m not planning on eating much, so I’ll have a late dinner with you, if you like,” he said.
“Mmm, that sounds good. I may just catch a quick nap while I wait for you,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and hugging my couch pillow. I felt a flash of nerves at the mention of his father but pushed it back down. I could deal with this. What was I so afraid of?
“Did you check out the fridge yet?” he asked.
“No, I just got here. Why? I didn’t leave anything in there.” Puzzled, I got up and headed into the kitchen.
On the fridge, right under the Post-it note I’d left myself, was a picture of me and Jack. It was from Santa Barbara, taken by the photographer who’d done the InStyle shoot. I sat on Jack’s lap, looking at him with an intensity I’d never seen on my face before, as he smiled back.
We looked crazy in love. And since I was sitting on his lap, there was no need to worry about the way my ass looked.
“Oh,” I said, my hands coming to my face. It was the only picture I had of the two of us, since I’d refused to print any of the ones from TMZ.
“Like it?” he asked.
“I love it. Thank you.” I smiled from ear to ear.
“I thought you might.” He chuckled, then I heard someone talking in the background. “Hey, I need to get going, but I’ll come by later, yes?”
“God, yes. And Jack?”
“Mmm-hmm?”
“Have I told you I loved you today?”
“Not yet, you haven’t.” I could hear his grin.
“I love you so much. Truly I do.” My fingers touched his face in the picture.
“I love you too, Grace. I’ll see you tonight!”
I clicked off my phone and walked back through my house. I unpacked quickly and hung my dress for tomorrow night in the guest room closet. Safely inside a garment bag mind you, I didn’t want Jack peeking. Leslie and I had finally found the perfect dress, and I couldn’t wait to wear it for him.
I was hungry, as it was dinner time in New York. Looking out at the backyard, I saw that my avocado trees were full of fruit. So in pure Southern California fashion, for a snack I had an avocado, dressed simply with salt, pepper, and fresh lemon juice from my own trees. It was accompanied by a dirty martini, which Jack had thoughtfully purchased the ingredients for. He’d even put the vodka in the freezer. I truly did not deserve this man.
After checking in with Holly and inviting her to breakfast the next morning, I made my way to my bedroom, thinking of the one and only night I’d slept here.
Then I lay down on my bed, crawled under the soft sheets, and let myself take a blessed nap. It was good to be home, even for only one weekend.
“Hey, sweet girl. Wake up.”
I sighed into my pillow, my dream of Jack spilling over as I swear I heard his voice right next to me. I waited for horns honking and the hustle and bustle of the city to remind me where I was.
Instead, I heard birds and wind chimes. I smelled—wait, s’mores? I cautiously opened one eye, not able to believe I was really home. My eye took in a beautiful sight: Jack perched next to me on the bed. White waffle-weave long-sleeve T-shirt, shredded black jeans. He looked exhausted but happy as he leaned down to kiss my forehead.
“Hey, yourself,” I mumbled, opening both eyes and stretching my arms over my head. I’d slept hard and fast, and I was sure there were pillow wrinkles on my face.
“You have pillow wrinkles on your face,” he said, his fingers tracing along my cheek.
“Can’t you let one slip by? We’re not all one of People’s Most Beautiful,” I teased, rolling over on my back and curling my legs beneath me.
“What are you prattling on about? I’m not on that list.” He frowned, swinging his own legs up onto the bed after kicking off his shoes. He lay next to me on top of the covers, leaning his head on his elbow.
“Not yet, maybe, but you will be. Mark my words, people will be lining up to market the pretty. Make sure no one steals my Hamilton Brand, though. That’s mine alone.” I laughed, and he looked confused.
“What the hell is a Hamilton Brand? Holly was talking about branding the other day in a meeting with a PR rep. Why the hell do I need a brand?”
“Actually, I was thinking of a brand of a different kind, and I’ll tell you about it at just the right time.” I scooted closer and snuggled into his warm body. I could tell he hadn’t been eating well on the road; he’d been losing weight steadily since I left him in September. I’d have to start cooking for him again, once my show and his film schedule settled down.
I looked up at him, and he smiled at me. “Lips, please,” he said.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Lips, please. You haven’t properly kissed your man yet,” he said, and I leaned in to comply. I kissed him softly and sighed as I felt his warm mouth. I kissed him again more firmly, and then snuggled into the Hamilton Nook.
We lay in silence for a few minutes, and he stroked my hair and shoulders. It was so comfortable and peaceful; I was reluctant to ever get up. But my tummy decided for us, and when it began to rumble so loud it was impossible to ignore, I giggled.
“Well, I guess we should decide what we’re doing for dinner,” I said, sitting up and stretching.
“What are you hungry for, love?”
“I’ve been craving Gladstones since I passed so close to it today on my way home from the airport. Too public?” I asked, wondering about the brilliance of eating somewhere so touristy the night before his premiere.
“Oh, fuck it, Nuts Girl. Let’s just go. They have great fish and chips, and we can take a drive up the coast.” But he looked so tired, I thought he could fall asleep right here.
“Are you sure? We can stay in and order something. You look tired.”
“That’s a nice way of saying I look like shit, Grace,” he answered with a rueful smile.
“Not possible. You’re too pretty.” I laughed, giving him a light slap on the cheek.
He mimed outrage and was about to pounce when his phone rang. “Sorry, love, it’s Holly. I need to take this.”
“It’s cool. I need to run through the shower real quick, and then we can go.”
“Damn. I hate the idea of you showering alone when I’m so close.” He looked at me, then the phone, then back at me again, torn.
I laughed and opened the phone for him, put it in his hand, and kissed him on the cheek. I gathered what I needed quickly and stepped into the bathroom. I was washing my hair when I heard him open the door, still on the phone.
“Gracie, can I use your computer?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s in my bag in the front hallway.”
“Thanks,” he said, and I heard the door close.
I finished up, stomach growling loudly now, and began toweling off. I couldn’t wait until the day we could shower together all the time again. I pulled on my jeans and was buttoning my shirt when I heard him coming down the hall.
“Gra-ace,” he sang, and my skin grew hot at the sound of his voice.
I might as well stop buttoning right now. I knew that tone.
He’d attacked me in the bathroom, and I quickly gave myself over to our impromptu sexing. It was hot.
Once I untangled myself, the Brit grinned at me sheepishly while I tried to button my shirt again. But since he’d removed most of the buttons when he ripped it off, no such luck. I looked in my bag for something else to wear, and he laughed when I asked him if he’d found what he needed on the computer.
“Yes, Gracie. I sure did. And thanks,” he said in a low voice, thick with sex. I could feel myself getting worked up again, and I made a mad dash for the front door, pulling him along with me.
“Come on, love. The crab cakes are calling,” I quipped, locking the door and then tossing him the keys.
We drove back the way I’d come this afternoon. The sun had almost set and cast a silvery light along the cliffs as we drove toward Malibu. The radio was loud, the top was down, his hand was on my leg, and I was smiling big.
When we got there, it was crowded, and I felt a little panicked. I suggested we just hit a drive-through, but he insisted it would be okay. He tried to take my hand, but on this one I did stand firm. He frowned, and I tried to gently assure him.
“Love, you know why. Let’s just get through your film premiere, and then we can discuss the potential of ruining your fan base over me, huh?” I tried to joke, as he ran his hands through his hair.
“Whatever you want, Grace,” he said, sighing heavily.
I knew this was tough on him. It was tough on me too. But we’d promised Holly we’d remain inconspicuous, and I intended to keep my promise. Besides, I knew how much they’d hate me, and I tended to think Jack was being a little naive in his opinion that his female fan base would be so accepting of his dating any woman at all, let alone one in her thirties.
I shook my head. Not tonight, Sheridan. No bad thoughts tonight. Put it in the Drawer.
We got a table outside so we could relax and watch the tide roll in. The evening air was cool but refreshing, and I was glad I’d pulled on the red flannel shirt Jack always had with him. We spent the evening laughing and drinking beer, getting him ready for the onslaught tomorrow evening would bring. There was a huge crowd expected at the premiere, and although he was getting more used to dealing with crowds, it still made him nervous. He still didn’t truly grasp how much his fans loved him, or why they loved him, for that matter. He insisted it was just because of the series; that they were in love with the character. I tried to explain that yes, that was probably it at first, but the pandemonium that ensued with each public appearance could only be explained by his innate charm and self-effacing personality. Not to mention that the boy was stunning.
And the fact that he didn’t get that? Even hotter.
We made it through dinner with no paparazzi and only two autographs, which, according to him, was a light day. Then we drove back to my house, the moon shining brightly over the canyons as we played each other songs.
When we got to the house, I went around turning off lights while he made sure we were locked in for the night. I was in the bedroom plugging in my phone charger when he came in with his own bag.
“Is it cool if I hang a few things in the closet?” he asked, pausing by the closet door.
“Of course. You don’t have to ask, you silly Brit,” I answered as I placed a few more clothes in an almost-empty dresser. The ones I hadn’t taken to New York were still in boxes or in storage.
He disappeared into the closet, and I was tempted to follow him in there, but I wanted us to have some quiet time tonight—not another repeat of closet sex, Santa Barbara style. Although that was highly enjoyable.
I realized I hadn’t brought my nightshirt with me, but I spied one of his many T-shirts and slipped that on instead. I was surrounded by his scent, which made my head swim a little. Hard to explain why that was so comforting. When you don’t see someone for weeks at a time, it’s weird what you fixate on. I was enthralled by the scent of him. I’d roll around in it like a kitten in catnip, if it were an option. I missed it that much.
We talked while we got ready for bed, falling back into the pattern we’d established when we spent all our nights together. He brushed his teeth while I put on my lotion, then he sat on the counter while I brushed my teeth and handed me my little cup of Scope when I was done. We talked about everything and nothing, catching each other up. He discussed his plans to remodel my house to make room for the giant shower he still insisted upon, which I informed him sounded great. Provided he pay for it.
I told him about the Time billboard Leslie and I walked by each day when we went for coffee. We discussed at length the fish and chips he had at dinner that night, and the difference between porpoise and dolphins. A pod of something swam by during dinner, and we continued our argument about what made the two different and which we’d seen.
This discussion finally came to a close when I climbed into bed and he shut off the lights. He wore his normal bedtime clothing: boxers. Tonight they were a dark charcoal gray. I wondered if he’d noticed I had trouble keeping my toothbrush steady when I saw him strip down. He walked across the room toward the bed and, with a graceful turn, slipped beneath the sheets. He’d grown thoughtful in the last few minutes, no longer responding to my Flipper jokes.
“Hey, George. You still with me?” I poked him with my big toe as he settled under the covers.
“Sorry, Gracie. Yes, I’m still with you.” He smiled, but something wasn’t right.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, sweeping his hair back. He relaxed under my touch and scooted closer to me in bed.
“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just glad you’re here,” he said as he snuggled up against me. He laid his head on my chest, and when he was comfortable, I began to play with his hair the way I knew he liked. I scratched his scalp and worked the knots out, making his curls soft and silky.
He sighed contentedly. “I’m glad you could make it back here for this.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I whispered into his hair, kissing it softly.
“It’s going to be crazy, I’ll warn you now,” he said, his voice darkening.
“Well, lucky for you, I happen to know all about crazy.” I smiled and resumed my stroking.
We were quiet for a few minutes as I scratched his head and kissed him every so often. His breathing deepened, and before I knew it, he was fast asleep. I looked down at him, his eyes closed. He looked so young in that moment, like a kid almost. He looked perfectly peaceful. I shifted slightly to turn off the TV.
As he felt me move, his green eyes flickered open long enough to meet mine, and he smiled sleepily. “Love you, Gracie.” He yawned and rolled me over onto my side. He pressed his body against mine, and his hands crept under my shirt and up to my breasts. With one in each hand, he kissed the side of my neck, sighed once, and said, “Fantastic.”
Then he promptly fell back asleep. I felt his warm chest through the thin cotton of my (his) T-shirt and his gentle yet possessive grip, and I smiled as well.
“Love you too,” I whispered, but the only response was the tiny snore he always had when he was first asleep. I was out within five minutes, wrapped in Jack.