Bungalow Nights(52)

Her own heart started to pound at that casual touch. And it made her absurdly proud to think she’d played some part in his change of direction if that’s what he truly needed. “Keep me posted on your next adventure then, will you?” She smiled as he looked up. “That’s what it’s going to be, you know. Now that you’ve given yourself permission to enjoy life instead of just working through it.”

Baxter stilled, and then he smiled, too, his head shaking ruefully. “Once again, I can only wonder at my idiocy of six years ago.”

“You should forget about that.”

“I can’t. Not when I need you near to remind me of abstract ideas like adventure and enjoyment.” His gaze turned serious. “Listen, Addy. I’m...I’m in love with you.” She jerked, and her hand almost slipped from his hold. But he firmed his grip and said those words a second time. “I’m in love with you, Addy March.”

Her mind was reeling, her heart was knocking around in her chest as if it was trying to get away. “But...but. You can’t. The BSLS says you have to be dating someone for a minimum of six months before that can come up.”

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Honey, we both know I’ve been a fool about that. The BSLS is just B.S.”

She’d kind of thought that herself, but... “No, Baxter. Please don’t say that. Please don’t say any more of this.”

“You don’t feel anything for me?”

She felt so much that it scared her. But this wasn’t pretend time, this wasn’t fantasy. “Addy March doesn’t get the golden guy,” she whispered.

“Not so golden,” he replied. “Think about it. I don’t have a job, I don’t know what my future holds. I only have wishes. That you care for me. That you might be in love with me, too. That you’ll let me start my adventure by going to Paris with you.”

Paris with her! She closed her eyes at the thought and images flashed through her brain. Hand in hand on city streets. Holed up in the back row of a dark cinema. A sidewalk café table for two. Swallowing hard, Addy opened her eyes. “Do you speak French?”

He shook his head. “Can’t even claim that. I’ll have to rely on you.”

“Baxter.” She was whispering again, as if a normal voice might burst the hope that was building in her chest. “Baxter, I...”

“If you’re in love with me, say it,” Baxter urged. “Or if you aren’t, go ahead and tell me. I can take that, too.”

“Well, of course I’m in love with you,” she told him, a bit annoyed that he might doubt that. Yes, he’d been her go-to crush for years, but she was a grown-up now who knew the difference between made-up emotions and real ones that were lodged in her heart.

He grinned, and she realized he might have been a bit nervous himself. “Addy.” He pulled her close and kissed her.

She came up for air some minutes later, breathless and thrilled and...scared all over again. “Oh, my God,” she said, and tried scooting out of his arms. “This is going to be a disaster.” She was whispering again.

Baxter put his forehead against hers. “Now what?”

“It’s really going to hurt to say goodbye now.”

“I told you, I’d like to go to Paris with you.” His mouth pressed against hers once more, a quick firm kiss. “If you’ll let me.”

“I mean, when it ends. When we end.”

He groaned and pulled her into his lap. “I’m not looking for endings. I’m counting on forever.”

She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the spicy male scent of his skin. Yes, her feelings for him were real, but to believe in a relationship... “I’m afraid that it won’t last.”

“Addy, people do find lasting love. My parents are devoted to each other and happy. My aunt and uncle are the same.”

“I know,” she mumbled. But her parents’ marriage had been so ugly and the divorce no prettier.

“My darling pessimist.” Baxter’s arms tightened on her. “What if I could show you a sign?”

“What kind of sign?” she asked, suspicious.

Without answering, Baxter kissed the top of her head and then reached toward the carton of ledgers. “I found some of that personal correspondence you’ve been searching for when I was looking through the business records.”

She stared at him. “I didn’t give them more than a glance.”

“Then it’s a good thing I took longer with them than you did.” With a little flourish he pressed a paper into her hands—a delicate sheet of stationery covered in blue ink.

Addy swallowed and glanced at Baxter. “It’s dated 1927. That’s when Sunrise stopped making movies.”

He nodded. “Read.”

Addy turned her attention to the handwriting, which was feminine, though not particularly elegant.





Dear Max,



To commemorate this day you are closing Sunrise for good, I wanted to tell you all that is in my heart.



I know you loved the movie business and you’d be happily making pictures into the future, but you’ve given it up for me and I’ll be forever grateful. I couldn’t take the rumors and backstabbing any longer. I felt as if the critics and gossips had found a loose thread and were pulling on it harder and harder, faster and faster, until soon I would be naked and exposed, with no protection whatsoever. Perhaps I could have survived that with you as my buffer, but then came the rumors of the affair and the cruel way you were portrayed in the papers. It made me desperate to leave the business.



You are a generous, good and loving man. The speculation that you might hurt me or my career became intolerable. We should never have made The Egyptian! It all started with that picture and that ridiculous piece of jewelry the papers call The Collar. I’ve decided against selling it, thinking that would only add to the already unsavory notoriety I have received because of it. Drat Nicky! He refuses to take it back. I think he’s using his so-called unrequited love for me to fuel his latest brooding performance (another of the Aston Agonies, as the critics like to call them). The public will be lined up to see it, eager to know if his looks have suffered due to the “Edith Essex Affair.” Don’t think this isn’t part of his scheme.



When I looked out at the ocean this morning, I thought about throwing The Collar into the water, but you know me. My childhood makes it impossible for me to squander something so valuable. So I’ve put it safely away—we won’t have to look at it or think about it any longer.



Which means our life will have no more pretense or pretend in it. All will be real now, our love and our beautiful cove. Just you and I tucked away in the beach house, alone except for any additions that might happen to arrive (and yes, that’s a clue to the surprise I’ve been hinting about!).



I am ever grateful to you for discovering me and making me a star—and then unmaking me into nothing but the woman who loves you with all her soul. You once called me your beautiful dreamer...now, finally, my greatest dream has come true.



Always Yours, Edith





Addy looked up, a smile stretched across her face. “Edith and Max were happily married. He gave up Sunrise because it’s what she wanted.”

“You got your happy ending, Addy.”

At that, her smile dimmed. “But she died only a little more than five years after writing this.”

“Maybe that’s a sign, too,” Baxter said. “A sign that we shouldn’t waste time worrying about what-if when we can be loving the heck out of each other instead.”

A tear fell onto Addy’s cheek and she quickly moved the letter aside. Baxter linked his hands at the small of her back and pulled her forward to lick away the moisture. “No crying, honey, unless it’s from exhaustion.”

“Exhaustion?”

“Yeah,” he said, getting up from the couch with her still in his arms. “I’m going to make love to you until we’re both too tired to get out of bed.”

Oh, Addy thought, a little punch-drunk on emotions. She wasn’t going to be leaving, after all.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN



IN BAXTER’S BEDROOM, though, Addy’s doubts returned. He’d set her on her feet and she stared at the bed and its smoothly ordered covering. The pillows were stuffed in shams propped at precise intervals against the headboard. His slight OCD in evidence.

Her right foot stepped back. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He had the hem of his T-shirt in his grip and he froze in the process of removing it, half his six-pack revealed. “Why not?” he asked, frowning at her.

“You make your bed with impeccable hospital corners, I can tell. I’ll...I’ll never measure up.”