This Is What Happy Looks Like(70)

“I’m sorry,” he said, and he felt Ellie go still against his chest.

“About what?”

“About everything,” he said. “And about Harvard.”

“It’s okay,” she said with a forced lightness. “I didn’t want to go that badly anyway.”

“I’m sure your mom would help.”

“I’m sure she would,” Ellie agreed, “but I can’t ask her.”

Out the window, the trees opened up so that all they could see was the water, still dotted with boats. “You’re lucky,” he told her. “You have a great mom.”

“I’m sure you do too.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she has such a great son,” she said, and Graham smiled. “Aside from the whole beating-up-a-photographer thing, of course. Not to mention that one little boat-theft incident.”

“You know,” he said, “before I left school my friends always joked I’d be voted ‘Least Likely to Get Arrested,’ and now I’ve almost done it twice in twenty-four hours.”

“Really?” Ellie teased. “I’d have pegged you for ‘Most Popular’ or ‘Best Smile’ or something cheesy like that.”

He laughed. “What would you be? ‘Most Likely to Rebel Against the System by Stealing a Boat One Day’?”

She considered this for a moment. “ ‘Least Likely to Fall for a Movie Star.’ ”

“Boy,” Graham said, pulling her closer, “would they ever be wrong about that.”

They rode in silence for a while, the bus stopping every now and then to let someone off. They could feel the vibrations of the tires beneath their feet, and the sway of the bus—a gentle motion that reminded Graham of the boat—made his eyelids heavy. He was halfway to sleep when Ellie’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“So what now?” she asked, and he wasn’t sure what she meant. The question could have a thousand different meanings. It could mean What do we do when we get back to Henley? or Should I try again with my dad? It could mean What happens when you leave in two days? or How will this all turn out? It could mean Here we are, the two of us wedged together on a bus in the middle of Maine, and even after the worst day ever, which came right on the heels of the worst night ever, there’s nowhere else we’d rather be, so can we stay forever?

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice hoarse, and she sat up, turning to face him with a serious look. Her green eyes were large and her red hair was tangled from the wind, but she looked beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes your heart fill like a balloon, so light you worry it might carry you away.

“With us,” she said, and Graham felt the words one at a time, each a sharp jab, because he didn’t know; he didn’t know what would happen, and even more than that, he didn’t know what he could offer her. In two days, he’d be leaving Henley. In two weeks, he’d finish filming this movie. And in three weeks, the last installment of the trilogy would be out in the theaters. Graham would be shuttled around the world with a smile pasted on his face to talk into a thousand different microphones about what it all meant, traveling from L.A. to Tokyo to Sydney to London, and back around again. There would be late nights and big crowds, endless talk shows and press junkets.

There would be no more fishing boats or walks along the rocky beach.

There would be no more Ellie.

“I don’t know,” he said truthfully, because he didn’t. It seemed too big a question for a simple answer. Right now, sitting so close, he couldn’t imagine being without her. But including her in his real life didn’t seem logical either. It was like there were two different Graham Larkins, and even if one of them was truer, more substantial—even if one of them was happier—the other one still took up more space, and it wasn’t going away.

He looked at her helplessly. “I don’t know,” he said again, afraid to meet her eyes. But when he finally did, he saw that she was nodding. She didn’t seem to be hurt or offended or even surprised at this. There was a thoughtful expression on her face, maybe even expectant, and his stomach churned with doubt. She nodded again.

“Well, we have a couple more days,” she said eventually, and it was Graham’s turn to nod. “So what should we do?”

He smiled. “We’ll go stick our toes in the water.”

“I love doing that.”

“I know.”

“What else?”

“Eat ice cream on a hot day,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “Listen to the waves. Take an evening stroll. Go swimming. Read poetry. Hang out with Bagel.”

Ellie was watching him in wonder. “That’s my e-mail,” she said, shaking her head. “How did you remember all that?”

“How could I not?”

She was smiling now, her eyes bright. “There’s too much,” she said. “We’ll never have time to do all that.”

“We’ll figure it out,” he promised her, and he was certain then that they would.

But as they neared Henley, Graham felt a deep sadness wash over him. Each time someone got off the bus, he found himself growing tenser, their departure a preview to his own. The seats smelled like mold and the windows were streaked with salt and the glare of the sun felt like a furnace, and if you’d asked him what he’d like to be doing on the Fourth of July, this would have been pretty far down on his list. But still, he hated to think of stepping off and back into the real world.