Page 71 of To the Moon and Back

“Yes, just exhausted. Crazy day.”

“It was.”

Lauren lay awake, staring across the spacious bedroom, adornedwith all of Carly’s personal touches: lace curtains, sage walls, soft pinkpillows, and the Van Gogh print from Lauren hanging on the wall across from thebed. In her head, the questions swirled, her concerns mounting. She felt alonefor the first time since she arrived in LA and was nervous about the path theywere heading down. There had been a time not too long ago when she wasconfident what she and Carly had was a romance that would run no more than the lengthof their show’s run. What if she was someone Carly just had to put up with nowthat they were in LA? Carly’s life was her own, and Lauren was arun-of-the-mill stage manager with a boring apartment and a pug who liked to befed at the same time every night. Now, in addition to all of that, it seemedlike Carly was growing more and more uncomfortable with Lauren playing in hersandbox. How long would it be before Carly was done with her altogether? Sherecognized that her own insecurities were bubbling up, but in the quiet of thenight, the unnerving thoughts were hard to swallow back. She looked to herleft, to the blond hair she could make out in the pale moonlight, and hertrepidatious heart pulled. Since when did Carly sleep on her own? Things werechanging between them, and Lauren felt her armor go up.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The night before had ended on a weird note, and Carly hated thatshe’d let that happen. She woke the next morning with a bright new outlook,ready to make it up to Lauren and push the uncomfortable tension to the curb.She showered, slipped into jeans and a snuggly hoodie, and made coffee for bothof them to drink poolside, flipping on the outdoor heaters as she passed.Thanksgiving was not far off, and she, for one, was a big fan of the holiday.

“This is what I’m thinking,” Carly said, with a read-the-headlinesgesture.

“I’m ready.” Lauren grinned from behind her mug. She wore leggingsand an oversized red sweatshirt. She was quieter than normal this morning, butstill affectionate and warm. Carly woke up to find her organizing the junkdrawer in the kitchen.

“I see your organizational skills are starving for exercise.”

Lauren had nodded. “They are. These scissors need their own homebase. I’m thinking top left, though bottom right might make them quicker forgrabbing in an emergency.”

“Oh yeah.” Carly nodded solemnly. “I’m glad you thought of that. Ihave way too many scissor emergencies around here to be reaching to the topleft.”

“Right?” Lauren said emphatically, and the darling thing was thatshe truly meant it. “Bottom it is.”

The organizing, Carly had come to learn, happened when Lauren wasin her head, processing details, either emotional or logistical. Now, as theysat poolside, she hoped she could alleviate some of the perceived stress.

“I thought it might be fun to do a big Thanksgiving dinner here. Iknow I pushed for us to go out to a restaurant, but I get the feeling that itwasn’t your ideal way to spend the day.”

Lauren nodded. “I guess I’m a little old-fashioned that way, but Ilike sitting around a table with people you care about and sharing a meal.” Shetucked one leg under her as her passion grew. “There were times when I couldn’tmake it back home to have dinner with my family because I had a show to calleither that afternoon or the following, and we’d put something together forjust those of us in town, whoever happened to be working the show and wouldn’tsee their family or friends.”

Carly nodded. “I love that idea. I think we should do just that.You can meet some of my friends, and of course, you’re welcome to invite anyoneyou’d like, though it might be a longer drive.”

Lauren thought on it. “Trip might come if we asked him.”

Carly looked back at the house. “Yes, he can stay here. And I knowthe perfect company with the absolute best catering.”

“No way,” Lauren said, aghast. “The point of Thanksgiving dinneris the meal prep, and I desperately want to watch you race around the kitchenwith me in a cute little apron.” She looked skyward as if imagining a highlyenjoyable daydream.

“Can the apron at least be designer?”

“I’m willing to compromise on this one detail for the sake ofharmony.”

“Then consider it a done deal.”

The sound of a vibrating phone stole Carly’s attention. Lauren’sdanced on the outdoor glass end table. “Yours.”

Lauren checked the readout and picked up the phone. “My agent,”she said, with a curious look to Carly. “Hi, Jim.” Carly looked on, impressedwith how busy they’d managed to keep Lauren while she was in town. She imaginedthat they’d lined up yet another group of auditions. “Oh, just sitting by thepool, drinking a cup of joe.” A pause. “Yeah, I thought it went well. I’m gladthey agreed.” Another pause. “Are you sure?” Carly sipped and listened,intrigued by whatever had pulled Lauren up short. “No. I’m just surprised…Okay,sure. We can talk about it later. Thanks for calling, Jim.” A pause. “Yes, allof that. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Lauren clicked off the call but kept her gaze on the screen.

“What was that about?” Carly asked. “You seem confused.”

Lauren finally raised her eyes to Carly again, and her expressioncould only be described as regretful.

“What?” Carly said. Concern flared, as a chill off the poolsmacked her flat in the face. She snuggled into her hoodie and waited forLauren to say something.

“The Hennessy film. They offered it to me.”

“Oh.” She paused, taking that in. “They did? Wow.” The informationhovered. She wasn’t quite able to absorb the parameters of what it all meant.“That’s fantastic, Lauren.”

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