Page 97 of Reel Love

He stares at me like I’m joking.

“My diet’s pretty strict. It’s part of my job.”

He nods. “Well, let’s dig in then. Get ready to be utterly corrupted.” He wags his eyebrows and rubs his hands together mischievously.

He moves through my kitchen, pulling down plates after opening a few cabinets to find them, pulling open the warming oven after finding it on the first try, and placing the tacos on plates alongside chips and guacamole. I grab down glasses and pour us some sparkling water.

“Eat outside?” he asks like he’s been here a hundred times.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

He carries our plates and I follow him out onto my deck.

There’s this contagious ease to him, like nothing can shake the foundation he’s standing on. He oozes quiet confidence without saying a word. Even in the moments when he’s slightly awkward, the strength of something deeper permeates the atmosphere around him.

My mother’s looming presence has been properly relocated to LA, just like that. All it took was one solid hug from Stevens and she vanished like a specter being chased by an exorcist.

He takes his place in the same chair he sat in when we shared our dinner here the other night. All that time, he was Wordivore, and I didn’t have a clue.

I take my seat next to him. A breeze blows in from the water, rustling through the treetops, cooling the air while the sun shines down to warm us.

I bite into a taco—the one with carne asada. It’s so good I actually moan. And, I guess I close my eyes because when I open them, Stevens is staring at me with a full smile on his face and a glint in his eye.

“I wish Mitzi could have seen that. She would have gone nuts.”

“She likes it when people enjoy her tacos, huh?”

“She would love it if Alana Graves moaned while eating one of her tacos.”

I smile. It doesn’t bother me to be Alana Graves when he puts it that way.

“I’d love to meet her,” I say, knowing full well the complications that would invite into our lives—his especially.

“You will. One day. I hope.”

He takes a bite of his own taco, exaggeratedly lets his eyes flutter shut and lets out a moan that’s a little too enthusiastic. Then he cracks open one eye and peeks at me.

“Am I being mocked for my taco love?”

“Never.” He winks at me, then his smile spreads across his whole impish face.

I want to kiss him, really kiss him. And I want to spend the rest of my life on this porch eating tacos and making him smile just like that.

“You’ll meet Mitzi,” he says. “But for now, I want to keep you to myself. I’m selfish like that. It’s one of my many flaws. You’ll discover them all in due time.”

“I think I’m selfish too.”

“Yeah?”

“I want to keep you to myself too.”

TWENTY-SIX

Stevens

So it's not gonna be easy. It's gonna be really hard;

we're gonna have to work at this every day,

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