“What possibilities?” He leaned back on his elbows.
“Infinite possibilities. I’m looking for my North Star,” I continued vaguely, meeting his warm hazel eyes with a smile.
“As a point of reference? Are you planning to navigate by the stars? A compass might be a bit more practical.” He studied me, not in the least bit teasing.
I took a deep breath. The penetrating depth of his gaze was a bit unnerving. “How was your meeting?” I asked.
He reached over and pushed the hair from my shoulder. “Fine. I found myself a bit distracted.”
I looked at him curiously. “By?”
His eyebrow shot up. “You.” He smiled as I blushed, then leaned forward to drop a soft kiss on my mouth.
My lips clung to his, inviting more. My hand stroked his cheek as his arms came around me, pulling me onto his lap.
He pulled back with a slow smile. “Still avoiding conversation? I’m not complaining about the technique, mind you.”
I cocked my head at him quizzically. “I thought you were making small talk or something.”
“I’m still curious about you.” His eyes were clear, his face thoughtful.
Okay. My eyes narrowed as I watched him. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you’re thinking about so seriously.”
I took another deep breath and looked at him. He nodded in encouragement.
“I have decisions I need to make. Things I’ve been putting off.” I paused, but he didn’t withdraw and his eyes didn’t glaze over, so I continued. “I can choose to keep going like I have been.” I wrinkled my nose at him, frustrated by my inability to express myself. “Or I change everything. Which is more challenging but, hopefully, more rewarding too.”
“The choice seems a bit obvious.”
“You’d think so.” I shifted so that we weren’t quite so wrapped around each other.
“But?”
I turned my head, our face inches apart. “It’s been like this for so long…” I shrugged and tried again. “It started out of necessity, for my family. Then it just kind of stuck, became the pattern of normalcy. There’s a sort of pathetic comfort in knowing what to expect.”
“What does ‘like this’ mean, Claire?” His voice was soft.
“Auto-pilot? Or—” I smiled. “—a ship at sea without any charts or stars or landmarks, just aimlessly adrift. I’m not sure that makes any sense. I don’t know how to describe it. I’m not good at this, I told you.” I shrugged, frustrated. “My life’s not bad, it’s just…there.” I shrugged again, my face pinched. I watched his face, anxiously awaiting the appearance of a bored or disinterested expression. Any time now, surely.
He was thoughtful for a while. Then he said, “Can I ask what happened to leave you so uncertain?”
“No.” I didn’t want the details of my past here. This was something untarnished and I liked it that way. I looked out over the water, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, you can ask. I’m not going to answer.”
“Fair enough.” He nudged me, his hand finding mine. He held my hand in his, squeezing it gently. “How long have you been adrift, then?”
I took a deep breath. “About two years.”
“What’s holding you back?” His brow furrowed as he waited for my answer.
“I wish I had a better answer.” I sighed. “But I don’t really know. I’ve asked myself that, but haven’t come up with an explanation that makes sense.” I watched his face. “More than you wanted to hear?”
“No. It’s rather cryptic. Very cryptic, in fact. But I understand that you don’t want to share everything.”
I was surprised by his earnestness. “I guess I’m waiting for you to change the subject…or admit you’re not really listening.”
His hand tightened around mine. “I am listening.”
“Which is what I don’t understand,” I said softly. My eyes melted into his, their golden depths clear and open.
“I don’t either, not fully.” His voice was soft and uncertain. “But there it is.”
I found myself staring at him, unable to ignore the thrill his words stirred.
“And you have children?”
I laughed. “I knew the knife fight thing wasn’t a good cover.”
“My sister has a similar scar, and three children.”
“I have two children.”
He smiled. “A good number.”
“They are great kids. They’re the only reliable things in my life.”
“What do you mean?”
I shook my head, frustrated that I’d said more than I’d wanted. “How about a walk instead?” I slipped from his lap and stood.
He stared up at me. “You asked me what I wanted to know.”
“Yes. But I might choose not to answer—even if you want to know.” I began to chew on the inside of my lip.
“It’s part of a conversation, you know, the exchanging of information.” He cocked an eyebrow then continued. “You said you weren’t very good at them, conversations. Consider this practice.” He patted the sand beside him.
I narrowed my eyes at him then sat again. Why am I smiling like an idiot?
“Okay. Practice, huh?” My voice was soft, the words rushing out. “I put them first. I put their wants and needs before everything and everyone else.” I spoke softly, the intense guilt pressing in on me.
He looked confused. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do as a mum?”
“I think that’s what people are led to believe, and it’s hard not to, but…I know now that I made things happen because I didn’t pay as much attention to the family, as a unit, and my husband…as a man.” My stomach churned, the way it always did when thoughts of Daniel popped up.
“Made what things happen?”
I blew out my breath, wrinkling my nose. “Look, I know I threw out the whole what do you want to know thing, but this is getting a little heavy. I haven’t thought through a lot of this on my own, yet.”
“So far I’m keeping up. It might be cathartic, to share with a neutral third party. What things?” he repeated, his eyes sliding over my face.
“I might have been supermom, but I was a rotten wife. Daniel, my ex-husband, got lonely. Things got terribly off-track.” I spoke the words with as little inflection as possible, hoping to wrap this whole practice conversation up soon.
“Is that a nice way of saying he started shagging someone else?” His other hand went through his hair, leaving it standing on end. He asked, “Because you were a better mum than wife? Did he say that? Is that what you think?”
I sighed, shrugging and waving my hands in frustration. “I wasn’t there for him, Josh. Long before he turned to her, I’d let him down.” It was the first time I’d actually admitted that to myself, let alone to anyone else.
He was watching me. “Did his affair make things better?” He spoke softly. “God. I’m sorry. That was unkind.”
“Let’s just say no one was innocent in the end. The process of ending a marriage is slow, and I worry so much about what’s the right thing for the kids. I’ve stayed put partly for stability’s sake—and partly because I’m not sure where we’d go.” Again, the words that came out were probably always there, but it was the first time I’d let them out.
“Where does that leave you, then?”
“That’s what I was considering when you joined me.” I shrugged. “Totally adrift.”
“I see the need for your compass now.” His voice was teasing, but his eyes were intense.
I smiled at him. “Maybe I should get one.”
“What are your options?” He paused. “Wait, start with this. What do you want?”
“No idea.” And that was true. I pulled my legs up and rested my chin on my knees, regarding him from the corner of my eye before turning my attention to the blue ocean before us. “There are things I love to do—writing and painting. But I’m realistic enough to know that it would be next to impossible to find a way to support us t
hrough either avenue.”
“Realism is overrated, Claire. Don’t dismiss your dreams. That is the worst possible thing imaginable.” He was thoughtful for a minute. “You’re an artist?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far. I’ve done some murals, taught art at the Community Center…”
“I’d like to see your work sometime. Passionate people can be exceptionally gifted.” His eyes fell to my lips as he spoke, making me swallow.
I took a deep breath before I spoke again. “Is all of my self-analysis going to make you late to something else?” I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore.
Josh smiled widely, his eyes crinkling. “That wasn’t a very subtle change of subject, you know.”
“That will be my next conversation lesson: using tact to change the topic of discussion.”
His eyes were warm as he scooted toward me. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me against his side. “I’ve no place else I want to be.” He sighed then dropped a kiss onto the top of my head. We sat in comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the beach. I let my head fall onto his shoulder and felt his fingers brushing up and down my arm. I was surprised at how comfortable this—he—felt.
His voice was soft as he asked, “Didn’t Shannon mention something about a job?”
I was unaware that he’d been listening to that conversation. Or that he was still mulling things over. “I’m not sure she was serious.”
“Hm. We should find out.”
Something about the we made me tense a bit. Out of fear? Or hope? I shook it off and said, “How was your meeting? Were you in trouble for running late?”
An ancient man and his equally ancient black Labrador went walking briskly by us then. I smiled at him. He smiled as he walked by then circled back without breaking his stride. He stopped in front of us with a well-weathered smile.
“Would you like me to take your picture?” the man asked, reaching for the camera in my hands.
“Oh no,” I said.
“Come on, Claire.” Josh looked at me, smiling.
“That would be great, I guess.” You have a killer smile, Josh Wiley.
Josh took the camera and handed it to the man, pulling me close against his side.
“Act like you like me,” he murmured against my ear.
Josh kissed my cheek. I felt my cheeks burn.
The man snapped away several times. He gave Josh the camera with a smile and we thanked him. I watched as he and his walking companion set off at a brisk pace down the beach.
“Your hair. I like it.” He wrapped one of my long curls around his finger.
“I suppose the me of today is a bit different from the me of last night.” And a bit disappointing.
He looked confused. “Not at all. Well, the curls. But those I like.” He smiled his infectious smile. He leaned forward, kissing me until I was breathless. I thought I heard the faint roar of thunder, but it could have been my heart.
I looked at his face, hovering above mine. He kissed my forehead. I shook my head at how easily he distracted me. “Your meeting? How was it?”
“Boring.” His thumb skimmed over my lower lip as he spoke. “I can think of several things I’d rather have been doing.”
The sky turned gray, clouds rolling in as Josh’s lips trailed down my neck.
When the first clap of thunder rumbled in the distance, Josh reluctantly broke his hold on me and pulled me up beside him. His gaze was heavy as he bent down and kissed me ever so softly, ever so sweetly, before taking my hand. We made our way into the hotel.
It took minutes for me to check out then climb into Josh’s very old, somewhat broken-looking vintage Chevrolet. It was clean on the inside, smelling of cigars and Armor All. When Josh climbed in, he was all smiles.
“This is my pet project,” he explained proudly. “A piece of American lore.”
“Chevelle?” I asked.
His eyebrow shot up. “Yes.” I think he was impressed.
“Learning to speak ‘car’ is essential in Texas.” I laughed. My phone rang. “It’s Shannon.”
“Go ahead, take it,” he said, smiling.
I opened my phone. “Hey, woman.”
“On your way?” she asked.
“Yes, en route right now.” I smiled as Josh took my hand in his.
“I’ll be a bit late.” She said something that was muffled at first, and then, “Sorry, work. I’ve got awesome Chinese coming in for your birthday dinner. It’s still your favorite, right? Anyway, the house is yours. The guest suite is ready for you—”
“Can I ask you a question?” I interrupted.
“Shoot.”
“Were you serious about job possibilities?” I asked.
There was a pause. When she spoke, Shannon sounded stressed. “Actually…and you are going to be so pissed at me…you kind of already have a job offer.”
“What are you talking about?”
She cleared her throat before continuing. “You’re so going to kill me. I think your book is amazing. I tried to tell you at the party, but I kind of chickened out. Anyway, I sent it to a publisher friend months ago, and there’s an offer, Claire, a really good offer. Look it over, please. It’s on the kitchen table.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“We’ll talk about this tonight, okay?” She sounded nervous.
Good. She should sound nervous. Maybe even a little scared.
I was speechless.
“Is Josh staying?” I could hear the underlying question.
I took a deep breath. “No.”
“Not going to help celebrate?” She was trying to smooth things over.
“No. Josh isn’t staying. I’ll see you when you get there, then.” I could hear the tension in my voice as I snapped the phone shut. I chewed my lip.
I turned a bit to stare out the window, to collect myself. She was right. I was pissed.
This was my life, in print. It never occurred to me she’d let anyone else see it. I continued to chew on my lip, wrinkling my nose to keep the angry tears at bay. I couldn’t believe she’d do this to me.
Josh’s phone beeped. “Bloody cell phones.” He patted his chest pocket, pulled the phone out and handed it to me. “Do you mind?”
“Okay.” I sounded somewhat uncertain, but flipped his phone open.
I read aloud. “Meghan says scripts are being sent to your apartment this evening. Let her know ASAP.” I looked at him. “Your meeting this morning? You never finished.” I waited, eager to be distracted from my mental musings.
“Yeah, Meg’s my agent. She’d cleared a few scripts for me, but I told her there were only three I’d read through.”
“And?” I prompted.
He looked very young, his enthusiasm mounting as he spoke. “My favorite is a biopic of Van Gogh, psycho-bugger that he was. Talk about a character piece. But there’s some concern about my maintaining a persona.”
“The young, hot, sex icon thing? That sucks.” I sighed, but immediately started laughing at his scowl.
He looked at me, shaking his head with a dramatic sigh. “You’re no help.” He smiled his beautiful smile.
“You’re going to have plenty of opportunities to prove you’re a real talent.” I believed that, without a doubt.
He pulled my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I smiled slightly, squeezing his hand gently. “And the other two stories?”
“A spy story during WWII. It has quite a bit of action and a rather sad romantic sideline. It’s good, according to the word from the studios. So it’s my second choice. The third is pure testosterone. Cars, car chases, sex in cars, stealing cars, blowing up cars… Not very original, but they’ve got some big director involved.” He shrugged.
“And what advice have you been given?” I asked. I didn’t know if it was his agent’s job, his publicist’s, manager’s, or whoever’s it was, but surely there was someone who had their finger firmly on the pulse of the industry
that was looking out for his best interests.
“It sounds like the WWII film has been mostly cast, with names that I know and admire, so that’s something to consider.”
“Sounds like a smart choice, then.” I imagined him in WWII garb. He’d be dashing.
“The other isn’t as appealing. I want to avoid typecasting, so another action film so soon isn’t wise. They are willing to arrange the shooting around my commitments, willing to give me some creative license—but is it a good fit for me?” He shrugged.
“That’s pretty flattering, though.” But he didn’t look very thrilled.
“I guess it just depends on the scripts, what kind of read they are.”
“And they’ll be waiting for you. Sounds like an interesting evening. History, action, and a bit of psychosis all in one. Like a night with my family,” I said.
His laughed, his shoulders shaking as he turned onto a driveway. “We’re here.”
I looked at the updated ranch with an appreciative eye. It was a sprawling white house with big picture windows and huge green yard. I could see a wide back deck that led down to the beach along the back. A beach out your back door.
We didn’t say much as he collected my bag from the car. Once inside, I poked around, delaying the inevitable. I knew it was right and expected; there was no reason to drag it out. But I didn’t want to say goodbye yet. I didn’t want the feelings that he brought out in me to go with him when he left.
I took a deep breath and turned to him, smiling.
“I don’t want to go, Claire.” His voice wavered.
I looked up at him, surprised that he felt the same. “But you have to.”
“Why?” His eyes narrowed a bit.
“Because this isn’t real life.” I sounded like I was asking a question.
“It is for me.” He pulled me close and kissed me lightly.
“You have scripts to read and important decisions to make.” Breathing seemed to get a little challenging as his lips continued to move over mine.
“What will you do?”
“I slept most of the day. Maybe I can find a book to read. I am on vacation, you know. I’m supposed to be relaxing.” I kissed his lower lip.
Hollywood Ever After Page 6
