Page 49 of The Location Shoot
“Finn . . .”
“There’s a large guest room suite that could be turned into an office: high ceilings, wood floors, big windows. It overlooks the garden and has a furnished veranda with a fireplace. It could be perfect for you. We could decorate it anyway you like. Or if you don’t like that room, you could pick whichever you prefer.”
“That’s so sweet, truly.”
“Don’t worry, I know you were born to travel. LA is only a home base. I’m off on location shoots all the time, and you can travel with me. We can go anywhere else you want to, wherever you can find inspiration. Baby, I want us to live a long life of adventure together. I know how independent you are, but I want us to take care of each other. And please don’t feel like you’d be giving up something without a commitment. I want to marry you. When you’re ready, I’ll propose.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Have you ever been to California?” he asked.
“I was born in Laguna Beach.”
“Really? Tell me about your upbringing.”
“My mom’s a painter, expressionism mostly, but with her own spin. There’s a great art scene in Laguna, or there was at the time. She met my father at a gallery opening. She’s very beautiful, and I guess he fell for her right away. He was married.” She took a breath and continued, “Anyway, they had an affair. That’s how I came to be. My mother says he always promised to leave his wife for her, but he never did. Maybe he just said what she wanted to hear.”
He rubbed her arm and asked, “Do you know your father?”
“He came by sometimes when I was little. When I was four years old, he brought me a teddy bear with a white silk ribbon tied around its neck, the kind you might findin an airport gift shop. My mom sent me to my room, and I heard them having a horrible argument. Never saw him again. I guess he chose his real family. He’d had enough of my mother, and I guess of me too. I used to sleep with that silly teddy bear, like it would somehow bring him back. The ends of that white ribbon frayed because I held it so much.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her a little closer.
“It wasn’t that bad. I barely knew him. After that, we moved around a bunch. My mother was always trying to make something happen with her art. There was a restlessness to it all, like she was afraid to take root. But she had oodles of joy too; she was never one for the blues. She’d make each new place feel like home, painting murals on my bedroom walls in oranges, pinks, and purples, hanging twinkly lights over my bed, and building castles and forts out of whatever old things were lying around.”
“That must be where you get your bohemian spirit.”
“Yes. Mostly it’s just what I’ve known. As a kid, I thought it was the best part of my mother, the free-spiritedness, the creativity. She’s more settled now. She lives in Spain, in Valencia. It’s beautiful there. She’s been with a Spaniard, Alejandro, for many years now. I like him. She seems happy.”
He caressed the side of her face and wiped away a lone tear. “It’s no wonder.”
“No wonder what?” she asked.
“That trust in relationships is hard for you, that giving yourself to a man is difficult for you. I don’t want to play dime-store psychologist, but it’s not difficult to see. Your father abandoned you. Then there was that asshole in high school. The other bad experiences, the many leering men. Put it all together and . . .”
“You think I’m damaged?”
“Cars can be damaged. Produce can be damaged. Even the bonds we create, like trust, can be damaged. Peoplearen’t damaged.” He paused and took her hand. “People carry their past experiences with them, though, including their pain. It’s part of what makes us human.”
“So you don’t think I’m messed up?”
“Of course not, sweetheart. You’re exceptional. Falling in love with you has brought me nothing but unimaginable joy. But for you, there’s another side. It’s in your eyes and all over your face. You said yourself that feeling so close to me frightens you. With everything you’ve been through, it’s perfectly understandable. I guess I don’t know what I’m trying to say, just that I’ll try to be sensitive to where you’re coming from.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
“Because I love you,” he said, kissing her forehead. “This is new for you, and I know you’re trying. Let me help. If something is too much, just tell me. If you’re worried about something or uncertain of me, give me the chance to ease your mind without assuming the worst. When it comes to us, I only want you to feel joy, peace, and unbridled love.”
She smiled. “That’s what I feel right now.”
“Me too,” he said, kissing her lightly. “So, you’re actually a California girl. What do you think of my place? Can you picture yourself there? Would you be comfortable moving to LA so we can be together?”
She squirmed a bit. “Finn . . .”
“It’s too much?”
“I’m just not much of a planner. All I want is to be with you. Can we wait until the film wraps to figure things out? Right now, it doesn’t make a difference as long as we’re together.”
“Of course. I’ll get used to your spontaneous way of doing things. Just tell me you’re mine. That’s all I need.”
