Second Chance At Two Love Lane

by Kieran Kramer

  He sounded truly grateful. The way he carried his shoulders, a little low, let her know how exhausted he was.

  They walked home through quiet streets.

  “You okay?” she asked him.

  Up ahead, Beau and Lacey’s house loomed before them, silent, its windows dark.

  “It was tough,” he said, his voice a bit hoarse. “But I had a good time.”

  “You did? What happened when you fell in the water?”

  He laughed. “Swimming at night in the harbor … never thought I’d do that. I felt more sorry for the guy tending the raft than me. He had to crouch out there all night. At least I got to walk around in between takes.”

  “He probably got paid well to do that,” said Ella.

  “Not really. Sometimes the hardest part of the business is knowing how unfair the compensation is.”

  “Think about it this way: You have a special gift—being able to draw millions of people to the movie theater. You deserve to be compensated accordingly.”

  “Thanks, but it’s still too much. When I think of how hard everyone else works—”

  “You’re creating jobs for them. Don’t forget that. The talent is essential to the making of any film.” She reached out her hand to hold his. “Hey, I’m holding your hand.”

  “I noticed.” He grinned.

  “Friend to friend.” She squeezed it tight, feeling emotional. “Because you’re a good person, Hank.” He was. His leaving her all those years ago didn’t make him bad. Just not ready to be in a committed relationship. “You’re too hard on yourself. Why is that?”

  He released a huge sigh. And didn’t answer the question.

  Ella stayed silent and held on tight. He needed her. She could tell. And she was going to be there for him. Sometimes words couldn’t comfort the way sheer human contact could.

  When they got home, she pulled the front door shut behind them. It was two thirty in the morning. “What time do you have to be on the set tomorrow?” she asked him. “I report at noon.”

  “Nine, for me. It was supposed to be seven, but they’re giving Samantha and me a few more hours because of tonight.”

  “Wow. So you have six and a half hours between now and then. To sleep, to shower.”

  “Not even. They’re going to send a taxi over at eight thirty.”

  They stood looking at each other.

  He put his arms on her shoulders, bent low, and kissed her on the lips—a slow, sexy kiss that lingered. A hungry kiss, one a hard-working man bestowed on the woman who could best bring him comfort.

  “Your mouth is sweet,” he whispered. “I want you. Badly.”

  She blinked up at him. “I’d like that.” She couldn’t help a smile curving her lips. He was adorable. And she wanted him right back.

  There was another pause. He cupped her bottom with his hands and stared down at her as if she was his everything.

  She could get used to that look.

  “I’m a lucky guy,” he said, “that you’re here with me. In the same house.”

  “But we both know you need sleep,” she whispered. “You’re worn out.”

  “I know.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “This sucks. But thanks for being here.”

  She snuggled next to him, her breasts flattened against his chest. He held her close, his chin on top of her head, his arms around her waist. If they were in high school, they’d look like that couple that was always joined at the hip.

  “I don’t know what’s going on,” she said. “But I’m just going to say how I feel and ask for what I want.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to sleep with you,” she said. “For real. Or even sleep next to you. But I know if I do, we’ll be awake too long.”

  “You’re right.”

  “And we might be doing the wrong thing. I don’t know.”

  “I know what I want.” He held her back a little so he could look at her. “A second chance with you.”

  She didn’t know what to say. To think. She was confused. Plain and simple. “But there’s so much stuff in between us. Hurt on my part.”

  “And a ton of regret on mine.”

  “I don’t know why it still hurts.” She wasn’t imagining the ache in her heart. “It was so long ago. And we had an agreement to pursue our careers.”

  “I shouldn’t have chosen the movie in Hawaii over you,” he said. “Whatever our agreement was, I should have chosen you, the way you chose me.”

  It meant so much to her to hear him say that.

  “But honestly,” she said, “I have huge misgivings about the choice I made. I put my own aspirations on the back burner for a guy, something my dad told me never to do. And that bothers me, not just because of Papa, but for myself. I never got to see how far I could have gone.” She paused. “You were right to choose your career.”

  “But look what I gave up.” He played with her hair. “You.”

  “It’s never wrong to do whatever it takes to be the person you’re supposed to be,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “There’s no easy answer.”

  “But there feels like there should be,” he said.

  “If we’re still wondering how to judge the situation after ten years, I think that proves both our points. We need to let it go.”

  “Let’s think about starting over.” His voice was rough with fatigue, but there was energy to his words too, something that made her feel hopeful.

  But she had to be smart. “On what grounds?” she asked him. “That we’re still attracted to each other? We’re brand-new people. We have ten years of experience behind us. It’s changed us. Have you ever seen a huge ship try to turn around?”

  “It’s slow. It takes forever, actually. But it can be done.”

  “Not in a week, at least not this ship. It would take a heckuva lot longer than that.”

  “I get it.” He ran a soothing hand down her back. “There’s a lot of cargo to shift. But time passes either way. Why not spend it working on the thing that you want to make happen, however long it takes?”

  They stood in silence.

  “Let’s stop thinking about it,” Ella said, “and go to our own beds.”

  “All right. You go first. I’ll wait until you’re out of the bathroom. And then I’ll come up.”

  “Okay.” She walked upstairs ahead of him and looked over her shoulder. He was still watching, so she blew him a kiss. “Good night.”

  “’Night.” His smile was distracted.

  She could tell he was already worlds away, back on the set. “I’ll get up in the morning to make sure you get out of here.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” There was a half-beat’s pause. “I want to,” she added.

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Thanks, Ella.”

  Life was filled with small moments like this, she thought as she turned her back to him. Over and over, we choose how to live, who to love.

  Right now she was choosing Hank and everything that came with loving him, even the hurt she knew was inevitable.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Wednesday morning Ella’s alarm went off at eight. Her eyes popped open. Time to make sure Hank was awake. She tiptoed to his room, put her ear on the door. Didn’t hear a thing.

  “You looking for me?”

  She nearly jumped out of her skin. Hank came out of the upstairs bath, smelling like aftershave and looking cozy in a light robe he’d stolen from Beau. “I’m already showered. You should go back to bed since you don’t have to be at the set until noon.”

  She felt nervous at the sight of all that masculinity, but she refused to let him know. “I’m running to the office.” Her tone was breezy. “I can squeeze in a few hours of work. And if you’re up, I’m most definitely not sleeping in. Is Pammy back yet?”

  “She is. She’s sound asleep. She left us a note in the kitchen. She was up all night at the shelter teaching the mayor and a couple of residents English rummy.”r />
  “Oh, okay.” Ella felt awkward.

  Hank took a step toward her. “We might not see each other much today.”

  “You’re right,” she said. She could barely get the words out.

  He came much closer, wrapped his arms around her waist. “You look pretty.”

  “Like this?” Her hair was a mess.

  “Sure do. Want to come see my room?” He put on his most obvious Big Bad Wolf grin. “I was going to show you the portrait of those three boys, remember?”

  She laughed and slipped away from him. She had to brush her teeth. At the very least.

  “What are you running away from?” he called after her.

  She looked over her shoulder. “Today’s International No Sex Day. Ever heard of it? Established in 1982.”

  “Isn’t that interesting. What happens to people who ignore International No Sex Day?”

  “They, uh, have sex, I guess.”

  “They’re making a mistake. They should consider the merits of being celibate on No Sex Day. What are those merits again?”

  “Not being late for work is a big one,” said Ella.

  “Oh, yeah. It’s good to arrive on time at your job. It’s better than getting cozy under the sheets, that’s for sure. What else?”

  “Well, when you don’t have sex, you definitely can’t help recalling the times you did. And you develop an appreciation for it.”

  “That’s right,” he said. “It’s better to imagine yourself having sex than actually having it. I’m going to imagine it right now. You might as well too, since you’re not having sex today.” He stepped into his room. “I guess I can show you the portrait later. See you in the kitchen, maybe. But if not, on the set. And if not there, tonight. Late. Here. Back where we started this loooong, no-sex kind of day.”

  “Okay,” she eked out.

  He winked at her and shut his door.

  “Damn,” she said aloud. She’d missed her chance.

  Sure enough, she didn’t see him at breakfast. She rushed to get ready, but she was still upstairs when he left the house at 8:30. Pammy was also asleep when Ella left for her job at Two Love Lane at 8:45.

  Roberta dropped by the office at 9:15. “I’ve got the ingredients, and I’m heading to the commercial kitchen,” she said. “I’m going to bake all day the rest of the week.”

  “Fantastic,” Ella said. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

  “Thanks, but I’m ready to do it on my own,” Roberta said. “Twenty-five hundred a day for four days. They’ll take fifteen minutes to mix up, forty-five minutes to roll into logs, cut into pennies, and put on the baking sheets. Twelve minutes to cook. While they’re cooking, I’ll scoop the previous batches off the cookie sheets. It’s going to take me about thirty hours all told, including meal breaks and bathroom breaks and me just losing steam. So I rented the kitchen for four days, but I’m shooting for finishing in three.”

  “Oh my gosh, this is going to be crazy! Can I come visit? I’ll bring breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  “I’ve got that covered, and honestly? I don’t want to jinx it. I want to be there all on my lonesome.”

  Ella shook her head. “You’re awesome.”

  “I’m determined, Ella. Twenty-five years I’ve been living with this problem.”

  “I know things will be different for you after this is over.”

  “I feel it too,” Roberta said.

  “I love your spirit.” Ella gave her a hug.

  And then Miss Thing, Macy, and Greer had to, as well. And they all ran up the cobblestone lane to Roastbusters to get Roberta a farewell coffee.

  “I can’t stay long,” Roberta told Pete.

  He was behind the counter running his little kingdom, tamping, pouring, calling out customer descriptions in his usual manner—he never used people’s names. “Tall latte for the teacher who deserves a trip to Paris because she’s so good to her students,” he yelled out to Mrs. DeMille, who taught French at the nearby high school. And “Double espresso to the young man in the green jacket with the charming grin and polite manner who’ll go far in life,” he said, and held out a cup to a guy with John Lennon glasses and a backpack on his shoulder.

  “It has to be to-go,” Roberta told Pete.

  “Coming up.” He gave her a thumbs-up. “And I already know what the Two Love Lane ladies are getting. But I won’t make theirs until you leave, Roberta, seeing as you’re in a hurry. Where ya headed?”

  “I have to go bake ten thousand cheddar pennies,” she said.

  Pete never lost his levelheaded cool. He handed Roberta her coffee and said, “I’m not sure if you’re speaking in secret code or what. What the heck’s a cheddar penny?”

  “Pete, you grew up on Long Island, so you have no idea,” Miss Thing said, with utter delight.

  They were old friends, but lately, Ella had noticed a heightened sparkle in Miss Thing’s eye when she was with Pete that seemed directly Pete-related.

  “Well, are you going to tell me or not?” he asked both Miss Thing and Roberta.

  “I have to go,” Roberta said. “Tell him, Miss Thing.”

  Which suited Miss Thing just fine.

  But first everyone wished good luck to Roberta, who exited quickly, determination written on her face and in her body language. The crowd around the register parted to let her through, and then she was gone, off to bake ten thousand cheddar pennies.

  Miss Thing gave Pete a snappy summary of Roberta’s situation. “The point being,” she concluded, “Roberta wants to date a good man who’s fun. And unless she bakes ten thousand cheddar pennies, that ain’t gonna happen.”

  Miss Thing was doing her extreme Southern thing again, where her drawl got thicker, one hand landed on her hip, and the other swatted at invisible flies.

  “I’m fun,” said Pete, pressing a lid onto a coffee cup and turning to grab another lid. “She doesn’t need to bake ten thousand cheddar pennies to get me to go with her to the Aquarium gala.”

  “So you’re looking for romance?” Miss Thing asked archly.

  “Nope,” Pete said in his usual matter-of-fact manner. “I had my one love of a lifetime. But I’m a sharp dresser and a damn good dancer. She could do worse, let me put it that way.”

  Miss Thing took her coffee from him. But she didn’t say a word. Highly unusual of her.

  Ella jumped right in. “Do you mean it, Pete? You wouldn’t mind being a backup date in case we need one?”

  Miss Thing took a sip of coffee and studied the crowd with a wide-eyed gaze. But Ella sensed her friend was listening hard, waiting for Pete’s answer.

  “I’ve got my tux ready to go,” the coffee-shop owner said. “Thirty years old and it still fits. I wear it every year to a Toastmasters banquet.”

  “Because you don’t go out to parties,” Miss Thing said. “You like bowling. And watching ESPN.”

  “So?” Pete shrugged.

  “You could wear that tux at least once a week during the Season,” Miss Thing said.

  “The season? As far as I know, there are four,” he said. “Winter, spring—”

  “I know, I know,” said Miss Thing, waving her free hand. “I mean debutante season.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Pete said with a laugh. “That’s right up my alley, T.”

  Greer, Ella, and Macy exchanged a look. They’d never heard Miss Thing and Pete getting testy with each other. And they’d never heard him call her “T.” Was that for Thing? Or something else? Nobody knew Miss Thing’s first name except for their accountant, who needed it for tax purposes.

  “I’m only saying it wouldn’t hurt you to go to parties,” said Miss Thing, her chin lifted. Her voice was higher than usual. “The Charleston social scene has oodles of opportunities to make toasts.”

  “Oodles?” Pete asked.

  “I’d say so,” Greer interjected. “With the abundance of champagne that flows here.”

  “Fine,” he said. “Maybe I’ll go with Roberta to the gala if
she can’t find a decent date, and I’ll make a toast. Will that make you happy?” He looked right at Miss Thing.

  “It would be a lovely gesture,” she said, and studied her nails.

  Pete was obviously done talking about it. He said nothing else and handed Ella her coffee. “Enjoy,” he said, with his usual good cheer.

  “I always do.” She smiled at him.

  He winked. “You’re looking extra happy today, Sunshine,” he said, and then he was back at it, making more drinks.

  Sunshine? Ella was honored. And embarrassed. Did it show? That she’d recently had a fabulous time in bed with Hank?

  “I think you look extra chipper too,” said Miss Thing.

  The girls all stared at Ella. “I’m fine,” she said.

  “She’s more than fine,” Greer whispered.

  “I’d say she’s pretty happy,” said Macy.

  Ella’s three best friends giggled.

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ve got work to do before I head to the set. See you later.”

  “We’ll come with you,” said Macy.

  They all thanked Pete and streamed out.

  They were walking over the cobblestones of Love Lane on their tiptoes, their coffees held out to avoid spilling, when Macy said, “How’s it going with Hank?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” said Ella. “Miss Thing, is something going on with you and Pete?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it either,” Miss Thing answered. “Except…” She had a hard time staying quiet. “No, never mind.”

  “I get the feeling you like him,” Macy prompted her.

  “Hmmph,” said Miss Thing. “Why would I like Pete? I’ve known him forever, and he always says how he’s had one love in his life, and that was enough. Besides, he treats me like a little sister. And I treat him like a brother.”

  “I don’t know,” said Greer. “You and he help each other out a lot. He came to your house for dinner when the accountant was getting too flirty after you won The Price Is Right. Just to act as a buffer.”

  “As a protective brother would,” Miss Thing said. She’d won the Double Showcase, a rarity in Price Is Right history.

  “And you held down the fort at the shop when he had that surgery recently,” Macy said.