Happy Again (This is What Happy Looks Like #1.5)(10)

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to miss it because of me.”

His eyes traveled over to the popcorn counter, and then back to Ellie. “Can I tell you something?” he said, and his voice was so serious that she felt her stomach drop.

“What?” she asked nervously.

“I’m starving.”

In spite of herself, she laughed. “The popcorn is free.”

“Yeah, but I’m not popcorn hungry. I’m, like, burger-and-fries hungry. I’m Wilbur-level hungry.”

Ellie nodded. “That sounds serious.”

“It is.”

“Don’t they ever feed the celebrities at these things?”

“Nope,” he said. “Otherwise, how would they ever fit us into these pants?”

“Good point,” she said. “So what are you proposing?”

“I propose,” Graham said, glancing around furtively, like a robber about to case the joint, “that we make a break for it.”

“Don’t you have to be here?”

He shrugged. “I’ve already seen it. And they won’t miss me as long as I’m back in time for the Q and A.”

“There’s a Q and A?”

“Yeah,” he said. “So you better start thinking up some questions…”

“Oh, I’ve got questions,” she assured him. “But I suppose I could probably ask them over some food.”

“Great,” he said, his face brightening. “What are our chances of finding a whoopie pie around here?”

Twelve

It was fun watching Graham work his magic to get them out of there. To Ellie, he was always more attractive when he was trying not to be famous, and seeing him shake hands with the various security guards, slap the back of an usher who lent him a Yankees cap, thank the girl from the concession stand who told them about the back staircase where the deliveries came in: all of it gave her a little thrill.

It wasn’t exactly a major operation. All they were doing was trying to walk out of a movie theater, which to most people wouldn’t have seemed like anything extraordinary. But by the time they spilled out into the alley alongside the theater, Ellie was feeling almost giddy at their newfound freedom.

“Where to?” Graham asked, clapping his hands, equally elated. There was a small floodlight on the brick building, and standing there in its glare, he almost looked like he was onstage.

“I thought you had a plan.”

“You just saw it,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”

“I’ve been in New York for, like, six hours,” she said, but even as she did, she remembered a diner she’d passed on the walk over from the museum, and once Graham had shoved the Yankees cap onto his head—an odd contrast to his designer suit—they headed back out of the alley, turning east on Fifty-Fifth Street.

In the dark, nobody seemed to notice Graham, who walked with his head low, his face shadowed by the brim of the cap. Neither of them spoke as they wove around metal grates and mailboxes and piles of trash bags, picking their way past people walking in the opposite direction.

When they reached the diner, Ellie stopped and gave Graham a little shrug. She’d only walked by it quickly before, so she hadn’t really gotten a chance to tell what it looked like inside. Now, peering through the window, she could see that the booths were mint green with pink accents, and the walls were lined with signed pictures of movie stars and comedians and athletes in grease-spattered frames. There was an elderly man eating a piece of pie by himself at the counter, and a family of four up front near the window. Otherwise, the place was empty.

“I can’t vouch for the menu, obviously,” she said, “but I’m willing to bet it’s more exciting than popcorn. Though probably less exciting than whoopie pies.”

“I can live with that,” Graham said, swinging open the door for her.

The woman behind the counter barely looked up when they walked in; she just made a vague gesture at all the open tables. They walked straight to the far corner, where they slid into a booth, with Graham facing the wall, his back to the rest of the restaurant. He slid off the baseball cap as he flipped through the enormous menu, and Ellie couldn’t help smiling at the way his hair was now tousled again, just as she remembered it.

“So how long is this movie?” she asked, pushing aside her menu.

“Couple hours,” he said without looking up. “We’re fine.”

The waitress appeared with two glasses of water, which sloshed over the rims as she set them down on the table. “What can I get you?” she asked, her thin face completely impassive as she pulled a notepad out of the pocket of her black apron.

“I’ll have everything on the menu,” Graham said, and when she started to write this down, Ellie shook her head.

“He’s kidding. Sorry. I’ll have a grilled cheese, and he’ll have a burger and fries.”

“And two milk shakes,” Graham said, holding up a couple of fingers. “Chocolate for me.”

“Make mine vanilla,” Ellie said, and the waitress stifled a yawn as she marked this down, then scooped up the heavy menus and walked back toward the kitchen.

“So,” Graham said, leaning forward on the table.

Ellie smiled. “So.”