Page 79 of Love on the Byline

“I’m curious,” she began. “When we were in school, what didyou think you’d be doing in five years? For work, I mean. It couldn’t have beenthis.”

His hand slowed as he set the glass down. “No, obviouslynot.”

“You were an English major, minoring in communication.Right?”

“I was.”

“So, either you wanted to write the next Great AmericanNovel, or you wanted to teach.”

“After we graduated, I went to Peck.”

“The film school?” That surprised her. She had a hard timepicturing Oliver Benjamin in charge of a cast, a crew, and whomever else wasinvolved in the making of a movie. Then again, she’d only recently come tounderstand how little she knew about him. “I don’t recall you wanting to be infilm.”

“I didn’t. But Dr. Danish—you remember him?” She nodded. “Afew months before graduation, he told me about the MFA in film and media, aboutthe scriptwriting program, and something clicked.”

“Wow, Ollie. You’ve been holding out on me. It’s a prettycompetitive program, from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugged. “I’m lucky, I guess.”

“Lucky? No one gets into a program like that because ofluck.” She put her fork down and studied him. “I don’t know why you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Attribute everything you accomplish to luck or to someoneelse’s hard work.”

“I don’t.”

“You do,” she argued. “You did it in college, though I’monly now recognizing the pattern.”

“Name one time,” he said, chuckling as he refilled her glassand then his.

“Your essay, the something, something of forgotten words.”

“The Secret History of Misplaced Nouns.” He blinkedwith surprise. “You remember that?”

“Of course, I do,” she said, tossing his own words back athim. “You won top prize for that essay, and you said it was because yoursources had all been exceptionally researched.”

“It’s true. They were.”

She laughed, incredulous. “God, Ollie. I’m sure they were,but those researchers didn’t write your goddamned essay. You did. Andyou couldn’t even take credit for it. Couldn’t accept the praise.”

His face was one big flame, now, and she fought hard not tofind it cute. She lost the battle when he lowered his eyes and smiled. Christ,this guy.

She needed to focus, needed to stay on task. It was hard todo with Bran off somewhere cavorting and leaving them alone in this romantic ashell setting.

“I’ve missed this,” he said quietly. “I didn’t realize howmuch until now.”

“Missed what?” They hadn’t done this sort of thing back incollege.

“I guess missed isn’t the right word,” he mused,looking out over the dark mass of the ocean. “No, it is, but it’s notso much missing something I had as missing something I never had.”

Maybe it was the wine, but Blake had trouble following. “Ithink I need you to explain.”

He smiled. “At school, I was focused on doing the best Icould. Focused on figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. I had friends.Well, one friend.”

“Bran?”

“Bran. I mean, there were other people—like with studygroup—but they came and went each semester. Bran was my constant. Still is.”

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