Page 87 of Reel Love

Alana turns to me on the porch. I draw her into a hug. She tucks into me and nestles her head under my chin. I feel her release a sigh. When she pulls back, I place a kiss on her lips. It’s soft and quick. Leaving me wanting so much more. Hopefully leaving her feeling the same way.

“I’m entering a busy season of my work life,” she says, apologetically.

“So … don’t expect you to return my calls?”

She stares up at me. “I’ll return your calls anytime I can. Just know I won’t be around as much. The six to eight weeks before a release tend to be like a freight train without brakes.”

“So, you do want a second date?” I can’t help smiling.

I have no chill. I’m literally the male elephant seal, lolling around in a floppy mass, waiting for her return. Pursuit is not in my wheelhouse. Waiting for herdefinitely is.

“I’m already thinking of a fifth date.” She surprises me, and I feel my eyes go wide.

“Too forward?” she asks.

“No. Not at all. I’m just … adjusting.”

“Me too. But I want to adjust together. With a heads up that I won’t be here as much for the foreseeable future. But when I am, I’ll let you know.” She pauses. “Because, I’d like to see you.”

I barely register her last sentence. I’m hit again with the reality of who she is and what she does for a living—the chasm between our lives and lifestyles couldn’t be greater.

“There’s no pressure to let me know when you’re here,” I say. “I’m sure you need time away from people.”

“From people. Yes. I don’t think I’ll need time away from you for a while.”

“On that note, I’m going to back away slowly. Before you change your mind.”

She giggles. It’s different from her usual laugh. This one is more girlish. I picture her as a little girl, curls bouncing around her shoulders as she runs in and out of the surf. Like a girl I played with when I was a boy.

“Oh no you don’t,” she says, reaching for me. “Not without a proper goodnight.”

I pull her into me, holding her to my chest and she wraps her arms tightly around me for another hug. We stand there, embracing one another, delaying the inevitable change that will begin when I drive back down that hill.

I kiss the top of her head. “Goodnight, Saturday Island Girl.”

“Goodnight, Marbella Island Man.”

She pulls back, leans in for one more quick hug, kisses me on the cheek and then turns to walk into her home.

TWENTY-THREE

Alana

I fell in love with him the way you fall asleep.

Slowly, and then all at once.

~ The Fault in Our Stars

I’m not even finished pouring my coffee when I press Brigitte’s contact on my cell. I didn’t call her last night because it was late, and also, I needed time to let everything coalesce in my own mind. This morning I woke up with a smile on my face. If that has happened before, which it must have, I can’t remember it feeling like this. I’m floating. There’s not another word for it. Floating on the memories of last night, on the reality that Wordivore is Stevens. That man is the whole package.

“Hello? What’s up?” Brigitte answers.

“Good morning. You’re not going to believe this.” Even I hear the song in my voice.

“Oooh. I love when I don’t believe things. What is it? You quit show biz? You told your mom you ordered a whole pizza and ate it? You’ve bought us tickets to Taylor Swift and they include backstage passes and a private meet and greet with Travis?” Shepauses, but not long enough. “Oh my gosh! Iwouldn’tbelieve that. But I’d love it. Just sayin’. It’s a little early for Christmas, but that’s the kind of gift you need to get on early. So, chop chop if you haven’t already!”

I’m laughing. “None of the above.”

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