Page 144 of Reel Love

“Anything.”

“I need you to think of her as this woman named Alana who has a job acting. She’s not Alana Graves to me. It’s just better if we can all treat her like a normal person.”

“Stevens. Have a little faith. And besides, she’s not a normal person. You do realize that, don’t you?”

“I do. But when she’s with me, she is.”

I spend a few hours at Mom’s between the conversation and helping her load boxes with enough Tupperware to store leftovers for the whole neighborhood for weeks, maybe months.

As I’m leaving, Mom reminds me to ask Alana to dinner Sunday. I will do that. I want to.

I want everything with Alana.

The choice is up to her as to what she wants with me.

THIRTY-NINE

Stevens

Love isn't easy; that's why they call it love.

~ The Big Sick

I’m up early, but not early enough. As soon as I woke, I ran to Joel’s boat to try to head Alana off at the pass. Joel’s boat was already gone, which means, Alana’s on her way to LA—without me.

Last night Alana and I were up, strolling on Locals’ Cove beach with the stars in the sky and our hands intertwined late into the night. Alana had called to ask me to meet her there. She told me about her conversation with her mother. And then she broke the news to me.

She said, “This madness with the press won’t end. We might make it through this particular round without too much fallout—and that’s highly doubtful. You’re already being hounded and chased at work. You don’t know the media and the public like I do. This is a portal. And once it’s opened, you can never go back. Your life will cease to be your own.”

There weren’t enough words or promises in the world toconvince her I wanted to walk that gauntlet with her. I literally said, “I don’t care what I have to endure if it means us staying together and building on what we’ve started to find in one another.”

She turned to me with a sadness in her eyes I had never seen before and hope I never have to see again. And then she kissed me. It was a kiss laced with regret and hopelessness. A kiss goodbye. We both knew it.

I questioned everything when I returned home, fighting the urge to call her, and then spiraling when I remembered who she is and what she does. Outside of my initial reaction to her, and the time I was blindsided at Ben and Summer’s barbecue, she’s been Alana, my SaturdayIslandGirl. Last night I was slammed with the fact that she’sAlana Graves. I’m just a marine biologist on a small island off the coast of California. Who am I to fight for her?

I’ve been up since four, out of bed and dressed. I tossed and turned all night when I finally went to bed. Sometime within the last hour, my conversation with Kai hit me like a pep talk in a locker room. It doesn’t matter what Alana does for a living. What matters is how we feel about one another. The more I thought about our childhood connection and our bantering onPlay on Words, the more this relentless momentum built up in me. I couldn’t get to the private docks fast enough. I need to stop her before she publicly denies our relationship and commits herself to a farce that will force us to stay separated forever.

I grabbed my wallet and left my house, hoping to beat Alana and Joel to the boat before she left for her impromptu interview with Rex in Los Angeles—the one where she’s going to solidify the illusion that the two of them are a couple and I’m just some guy who ran lines with her for an upcoming movie.

I don’t know if I have an actual plan. I had thought I would go with her. We would face this—anything and everything—together. It’s obvious she’s never had someone who bears the load with her—someone who wants to absorb some of the backlash of her fame for her. Alana doesn’t believe I can withstand what shelives with daily. Stepping into the public eye may not be ideal, but losing her is not an option.

Last night, Alana explained to me that she was making this decision for me. She said, “Stevens, you may not see it now, but I’m choosing you. By letting you go, I’m choosing you.” She shed a few tears. I could tell she was doing everything in her power to hold herself together. I nearly shed tears of my own.

I suggested a clandestine relationship, staying together, but keeping things under the radar the way we had been doing all along. She stiffened, shoring herself up against the option. Then she said it would only be a matter of time until a hidden relationship blew up in our faces. And the outcome would be worse the second time the media got a whiff of me. So much worse.

She said she’s choosing me. And I believe she thinks she is. But she’s not the only one with a choice in this situation. I might have a plan—it’s forming as I stand here staring at the slip where Joel’s boat should be parked.

She chose me.

I’m going to show her that I’ll choose her every day from here forward if she’ll let me.

I pull out my cell phone and dial the one person I believe has the power, influence, and access to help me get through to Alana.

“Hello, Brigitte here. What took you so long, Stevens?”

“Long? The sun is barely up.”

“I figured you’d call me yesterday.”

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