One More Time(47)

Except… is it dumb that I don’t want to waste anymore time?

We’ve already spent a decade apart, why wait any longer to be together?

I sigh, loudly enough for him to squeeze me tighter. Then I close my eyes and nestle into Tanner’s embrace. I’m not going to waste this time together freaking out about the challenges we face. That’s almost all I’ve done so far, when instead I could be enjoying the feel of his long, hard body against mine. I can pretend the outside world doesn’t exist for just a tiny bit longer.

After tomorrow, our real life begins.

*



Our real life starts with a bang. Or more accurately, a camera flash.

The news from Vancouver has filtered down to La La Land, so I’ve hardly set foot in the terminal before there’s someone in my face asking me if it’s true that Tanner and I have been faking a relationship for publicity.

I don’t know what to say.

We flew separately hoping to avoid a scene like this, but we probably should have had a plan for this situation, just in case. “Take it one day at a time” didn’t cover what our official line would be. I have several voice messages that came through the minute the plane landed from Carrie asking the same thing, and I can’t even bring myself to call her back.

As much as I’d love to just say, we’re together but we’re keeping it private for now, even handing it off to our teams to handle feels like a violation. We need to have a real talk about this, Tanner and I. Tonight.

And in the meantime?

“No comment,” I tell the reporter as I get into the car that’s waiting for me. I take it to my house to drop off my baggage before continuing over to Tanner’s. My fingers fly across the keyboard of my phone as I desperately try to catch up on all the emails I’ve ignored over the past couple of weeks.

Carrie texts me, How come you can give me opinions on scripts within a half hour of receiving them, but not tell me what’s up with you and TJ?

I ignore it.

Walter texts seven times a day, so I ignore him too.

Finally, finally, we pull up to a gated community, where the guard checks my ID—and my boobs—before waving us on. When we pull up in front of Tanner’s house, I’m floored. The massive Spanish-style home is a far cry from the bungalow we’d shared together back in the day. It serves to remind me yet again, that he is in a very different world than he was ten years ago.

Do I fit in this world of his? Is that why he wanted to take it day by day, because he’s not sure yet?

He greets me at the door, shirtless and smiling, and my worries melt away. How can I feel insecure when this tall, gorgeous man is waiting for me?

Inside, I drop my bag and embrace him. “Your house is insane,” I tell him. I know, intellectually, that he’s worth millions, but seeing it in person is still amazing. The kid I knew back then on the brink of seeing all his dreams come true has now realized every single one of them.

“Let me show you around,” he says, picking up the bag and slinging it over his shoulder. “After all, you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time here.”

“Let’s go straight to my favorite room first,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me to an ornate set of double doors at the end of a hallway across from the living area. When he flings them open, I squeal.

“Your own theater!” Everyone has their own idea of what success means to them. When we would lay in bed and sort through Tanner’s post-Jet scripts, chatting about the things we wanted—wanted to do, and wanted to be—he always said he was going to have a home theater. It would have a full bar, a concession stand stocked with his favorite things—smoked almonds and rice crackers, hummus and baba ghanoush. He’d host viewing parties for all his friends, so that the ones doing Lifetime movies could see themselves on a big screen, the ones shopping their student films around could show them to his new friends with small production companies, and everyone could enjoy the pleasure of throwing spoons at The Room any time they wanted.

I spin around, taking it all in. There’s red velvet curtains, chairs, and loveseats, the bar in the back, and a full-sized refrigerator that I assume is probably more convenient than an actual concession stand if you don’t want to walk back and forth from the kitchen a bunch of times.

Overwhelmed, I kiss him until we fall onto a loveseat.

“Did you get yours?” he asks when my head falls to the side so I can kiss down his neck. I know what he’s talking about. When Tanner met me, I had all the free things I could ask for. The hottest looks before they even touched the runway, invitations to premieres and restaurants and boutiques. There’s no better way to get buzz than to have beautiful people linked to your brand. I had an apartment I liked just fine that I almost never saw because of my crazy travel schedule.

No, I had all the physical things I could have ever have dreamed of. My barometer of success was a secret, something I never even told Tanner.

All I wanted was more of a concept: home.

I had the furniture, I had the art, but I never had the feeling. I thought I was getting it when I moved in with Tanner, but it only took a few months for me to lose it.

Now it’s starting to feel like it’s within my reach again, but I’m still not ready to share.

“Almost,” I whisper in his ear, gazing at the goosebumps I raise on his arms as I do. I suck his earlobe into my mouth, loving the way he responds.