Page 46 of The Spotted Cottage By the Sea
She scrolled through the list on his phone with a half-smile on her face. “The Cranberries, that’s good. Nirvana, very cool. Didn’t take you for a grunge guy. Sheila Wilde?” She shot a look at him. “A favorite of yours?”
He kept his eyes on the road. “One of the best, yes.”
“Oh, this is timely.” Sheila tapped a finger and “Only Happy When It Rains” started to play. “I do love the rain.”
Russell stole a glance at her. Her head was tilted ever so slightly, looking through the window. “Yeah?”
“I love the sound. The rain fills all the empty spaces. It makes the world seem smaller and wipes it all clean.”
The rain was the one thing he was still getting used to. It had been a glorious summer, dry and sunny, but now every day had rain forecasted for at least part of the day. He never knew when to trust a rainy forecast. “I need to learn to embrace it.”
They got to the dock, and as soon as he parked, Russell got out and ran over to her side of the car with the umbrella.
“It’s okay,” she said, waving him off. “I feel bad. We don’t both fit under there.”
“I’m fine.”
“But you don’t have your hat,” she continued. “Your hair’s going to get wet.”
He held the umbrella over her. “I wear the hat more as a disguise.”
“Your hair’s real? I thought it was a toupee. Or…what is it you stars do? Hair transplants?”
He laughed so hard he started coughing. “My hair is real and non-transplanted. Thank you for the backhanded compliment.”
She grinned as they walked down the dock and onto the waiting ship.
Russell had never been a ship person, but even he was impressed. It was pristine, all white, with clean lines and the warm glow of lights in the night.
They stepped on board and were rushed into the cozily lit cabin. Russell was pleased to see Sheila had remained dry. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off the raindrops, and caught the eye of the hostess.
“Hi there, two for –”
“You’re…” She stared at him, pointing, her eyes round with wonder.
He knew that look. She was either sifting through her memory, trying to place his face, or she was too awestruck to speak. “Russell. Nice to meet you.”
“I am a huge fan! I loved you inPictures of a Perfect Marriage.”
It was always flattering when someone told him they’d enjoyed one of his movies, always pleasantly surprising that anyone would take the time to watch something he’d done.
With that movie, though, he’d played a terrible person – and a terrible husband – and while he didn’t regret it, it sometimes made him wonder what people thought of him.
Did they think he was like that in real life? That his marriage was filled with him bellowing abuse behind closed doors and showing smiles to the rest of the world?
“It’s so nice to meet you,” she added, extending a handshake. “That movie reminded me so much of my dad. I’ve never seen anything depicted on screen that was so…realistic. I could tell people, ‘Thatwas what my dad was like.’ It felt like no one understood.”
He took her hand, cupping it with both of his. “Well. I’m sorry to hear that…” He peeked at her name tag. “Carla. I hope the movie wasn’t too hard to watch.”
“With you? Never!” She sucked in a breath, smiling widely. “Can I get a picture? My mom willdiewhen she sees it.”
“Of course.”
He stepped to her side and she extended her arm in front of them.
“Do you want me to take it?” Sheila asked.
“Yes!” Carla handed the phone over and ran her hands over her hair, then dropped her arms to her sides. “Ah, I don’t know what to do with my hands!”
