Page 3 of Lost Love Found

A wave of optimism washes over me as I think about coming home and snuggling on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa to listen to classic Christmas carols while wrapping presents and seeing my best friends tomorrow.

* * *

Nope. No, no no no no. I am NOT feeling better about everything anymore.

Christmas isn’t the problem. It was a wonderful Christmas. For dinner, I ended up making a traditional Greek meal, all with my mom’s recipes, which the girls loved. Charlie was in charge of dessert, and she made a Strawberry Fool, which is a delicious combination of strawberries, cream, and custard. Maeve was the bartender for the night, and served up delicious cocktails to keep everyone hydrated.

I spent the week preparing to check off items from my list. To satisfy my love of reading, I purchased two books - one murder/mystery and a romance novel - both of which were highly recommended by our resident bookworm, Charlie. As a treat for myself, I also made an appointment for a mani-pedi. Even though my toes are highly ticklish, I thoroughly enjoyed it!

So why the negativity? Well, I just found out I basically won’t be able to see after my eye surgery for 12-24 hours because apparently, my eyes are extra sensitive to light. That’s right. I’ll be all sober and half-blind tonight, New Year’s Eve, and likely unable and/or unwilling to be around a large group of drunk people. Did I mention I also can’t drink? Yeah… whose brilliant idea was this, anyway?

Maeve’s driver, Gary, picked me up and we’re headed back to her house where the partying will begin in exactly three hours.

“How you doing, Miss Elaina?” Gary’s gravelly voice is cheery in a way I simply cannot appreciate at the moment.

“Other than the current fucked up state of my eyeballs, pretty great! How have you been, G? It’s been a while.” Gary has been Maeve’s driver here in LA for years. He’s a gentleman, no taller than my 5’7” frame, and laughs at everything I say, which makes me feel great. Also, he doesn’t bat an eyelash at my colorful language.

“I’ve been well. Thank you for asking. Miss Maeve told me about your plan to get this surgery before year-end no matter what. Any regrets?” I would bet money that he’s looking at me through the rear-view mirror with a quipped eyebrow and a little glisten in his brown eyes. I’ve seen it enough times by now.

“Not yet, but the night is young, right?” I feel my face for the giant sunglasses Dr. Blau insisted I wear. They are huge! And feel more like safety goggles than anything I would ever actually wear in public. “Actually, these glasses. These might be a regret. You can see them, so tell me your honest opinion, Gary. How bad are they?”

His deep chuckle makes my lips quirk up. “If anyone can pull them off, it’s you, Miss. Elaina.” I can hear both the lie and the smile in his voice.

The car comes to a gentle stop, and I thank Gary, wishing him a very happy new year before I try to leave and remember I can’t see. Gary takes me by the elbow and gently guides me to the front door, letting me know where each step is. I give him a hug that lasts a little too long, but I’m groggy still and maybe these drugs make me more affectionate than usual. Ha! Not possible.

“Thanks so much, Gary. What would we do without you?” He chuckles as he knocks on the door. “I hope you have the best New Year’s Eve ever. Drink some bubbly for me. Give your husband a big, juicy kiss at midnight, OK?” Ugh, I guess this will be one more year I go without a midnight kiss.

Charlie comes to the door and takes my hand. “Thanks, Gary. I’ve got her. Happy New Year!” I hear the front door close, and Charlie wraps an arm around my back. “Well, hey there, pretty girl. Lovely to see your face.”

Charlie is making a joke in the most Charlie way possible, meaning it isn’t obvious and I think it’s hilarious. My giggling makes her snort, and my heart does a happy little somersault. I miss having her around.

“Oh, you’ve got jokes, Char! I know these glasses cover at least half of my face, but the doc said I need to wear them because of the light sensitivity.” She takes me into the kitchen and helps me onto a stool. I hear her moving around the room quietly for a few seconds, then she’s back next to me.

“I’ll be right back, Lainey. I need to check on something with the caterers. I have some water here for you.” I nod and run my finger down the bottle. I SO wish it was vodka. My eyes definitely hurt a little and I have to keep putting eye drops in them, so they don’t dry up. Charlie looks at me… or I think Charlie looks at me. “Remember, no looking at your phone. I dimmed the lights for you.” She pats my hand lightly. "Back in a few." I nod as I hear her walk away.

I’m not supposed to do anything too strenuous, and I have to be very careful about light, so I guess I’m stuck with these crazy-looking sunglasses even inside. At least there’s music. Maeve has one of my playlists on. I can tell because I hear “Let Me Love You” by Mario on the speakers, and ‘90s to early ‘00s music is kind of my thing. I stand up, needing a little kitchen dance. Just a little one. I take off my shoes and start to move my hips, singing along to the sexy lyrics.

can she see me?

adam

I can’t believe I let Rafael talk me into this. I don’t do parties, let alone Hollywood parties where other actors will be present. My parents met on the set of a movie and then married in secret. He was the producer. My mom was pregnant with my sister at their wedding. As such, I grew up living as both an actress’ son and in the LA spotlight. Parties were thrown nearly every weekend, and I peeked behind the velvet rope long ago. This is my idea of a nightmare.

It’s 9:00 pm on New Year’s Eve and I’m at Maeve Howard’s mansion. Though I've never met her in person, everyone knows who she is. She made a name for herself in this town in her early 20’s, but since I’ve been a recluse for years, we’ve ever run into one another. We’re about to become costars in a few weeks, though, so I guess this is as good a time as any.

A petite redhead lets me in. She looks like Maeve, only not blonde. She introduces herself as Charlie and sends me on my way to the backyard where the party will start anytime now, which means I didn’t need to be here until at least 10. Charlie scrunches up her nose and, in a British accent, says, “You’re a tad early, mate. If you fancy a drink, the bar’s to the left just outside.”

I thank her and take a few steps towards the backyard, but the sound of music from inside draws me in. As I make my way to the kitchen, I hear her first, her strong yet husky voice cutting through the music. Curiosity grabs hold of me and I turn the corner slowly.

A woman stands in the middle of the room, auburn hair tumbling down her back, olive skin on toned arms swaying in the air. The ripped jeans she wears fit her hips snugly, and she bops to the beat with her eyes closed. I feel strange standing there watching, but unable to look away. Suddenly, as if on cue, she turns towards me and I'm frozen in place.

My mind races as I prepare an explanation for being caught practically spying. She has huge sunglasses on, and she doesn’t seem to notice me. Huh. There’s a smile on her face and damn, it’s beautiful. Her lips are heart shaped and I can see a set of perfectly straight teeth as she smiles. Her moves become a little more confident, a little looser. She brings her arms up over her head and then tosses her hair upward.

I watch for a few more seconds, mesmerized by the curves of her body and her lips as she sings along with the lyrics. Her jeans are hugging in all the right places and she’s barefoot, her black top riding up slightly to reveal a sliver of smooth skin. The sound of her honey-soaked voice fills the room, and I can feel my heart swell in my chest. I'm pulled in by something even greater than her singing—her smile. It's wide, infectious, radiating a warmth that makes it hard to look away.

Without thinking, and because I suddenly feel a weird lump there, I clear my throat and I catch her shocked expression when she realizes someone else is in the room. She loses her balance as she spins, and I instinctively reach out for her, catching her by the arms before she goes down.

“Gahhh! What the hell, Charlie? Are you trying to kill me?” She hardly gets to the end of her question before she stiffens completely. “Wait, who are you? Gary? No, you don’t smell like Gary. You smell like…” Her hands wrap around my biceps, and she lifts her chin, seeming to sense where my eyes are but not quite making eye contact. I can almost see her eyes, but the glasses she’s wearing are dark, and she’s squinting. Can she not see me?

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