Valorous(75)

On Thursday evening, Flynn arranges a special trip to Disneyland in Anaheim. We have the place mostly to ourselves after it closes to the public. We go on every ride, a few of them twice, and have the time of our lives. As it’s my first time visiting a Disney park, I feel like a little kid again, and Flynn, who has been here many times before, says it’s like the first time all over again for him, too, because he’s here with me.

We check out Palm Springs and the Palm Desert, San Bernardino and Big Bear. One city and town at a time, I fall in love with Southern California. I’m not even all that bothered by the tremors from a small earthquake that shake the house on Friday morning. Flynn says the tremors are a fact of life in California, and as long as you know what to do, they’re nothing to be afraid of.

He takes the time to teach me everything I need to know about surviving a major earthquake, and then we don’t talk about it again, which is fine with me.

We spend hours—in the car, in bed, on the sofa, by the pool—discussing our plans for the foundation, trading ideas and making lists. With his extensive contacts, Flynn isn’t worried about raising the money we’ll need to get the foundation up and running. He’s far more concerned about making sure the money gets to those in need in the form of programs that make a real difference. That’s where the major brainstorming is needed.

I’m thrilled to be part of such an important project. It fills the void created by the loss of my job and gives me a sense of purpose. We talk about goals for the foundation, and Flynn says he won’t be happy until every kid in America gets three nourishing meals a day. Anything less than that won’t be enough for him—or me. We’re in complete agreement on that point.

When we’re not out driving around Southern California or talking about the foundation, we’re making love—in bed, on the sofa, in the pool, in the shower and once on the floor of the kitchen. We can’t get enough of each other, and I dread the day when he’ll have to go back to work. This little cocoon we’re living in can’t last forever, but I’m determined to enjoy every second of it for as long as I can.

On Sunday evening, we take a limo into the city for the Screen Actors Guild Awards at the Shrine Auditorium. Earlier, Flynn explained to me that these awards are particularly significant as they are decided on by peers, which makes them that much more special. The “Actor” is a coveted award. Unlike the Golden Globe he won for acting for the first time two weeks ago, he already has two Actors for earlier roles.

Because of his superstitious nature, he won’t admit to wanting to win for his performance in Camouflage, but I know he’s excited to see this particular role recognized by his peers. He poured his heart and soul into the role of a returning Special Forces officer who has to fight to regain his life after being grievously injured in Afghanistan.

“You look positively radiant tonight, Nat.”

In deference to my newlywed status, I chose a white dress for the event. Flynn says me wearing white is a bit of a “f*ck you” to the media that are still freaking out about us getting married. My husband does have a unique way of phrasing things.

The dress is subtly sexy and highlights the tan I’ve acquired during my afternoons at the pool. It also looks great with the jewelry he bought me to wear to the Globes. I told him not to buy me something new for the SAGs. I’m perfectly happy with what I already have.

I appreciate how generous he always is, but I don’t need to be showered in expensive gifts to be happy.

On the way into town, he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

I break open a bottle of ibuprofen. We each take a couple of preventive painkillers since champagne gives us frightful headaches the next morning, and we’d like to indulge tonight.

When we each have a glass in hand, he puts his arm around me and draws me close to him. “Oh damn, what’s that?” He withdraws a velvet box from his pocket. “Where did that come from?”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. You should open it and find out.”

“I will not open it, because I told you not to buy me anything.”

“Did you? I don’t recall you saying that.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “You do too remember me saying it, because I said it two days ago.”

He shakes his head. “Not ringing any bells.”

“No wonder you’re up for all these awards. You’re a truly gifted actor.”

“Why thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you make me happy on my big night and open that.”