Jesse shot a glance at Raymond. “W-what?” Hackles rose on the back of his neck.
“Are you in love with her?”
“Who?” Did he seriously mean Chloe?
“My daughter?”
“W-we’re friends.”
“And?”
“There’s noand. She’s incredible. Beautiful, funny, and sort of broken and put together at the same time, but we’re not lovers, Raymond.”
“But you risked your career for her anyway?”
Jesse had no pithy answer or profound reply. Only truth. “I had a girlfriend. In college. She wanted something I couldn’t give, but I toyed with her, mocked her, didn’t understand the magnitude of my foolishness and stupidity. She went for a walk on a Florida beach alone and never returned. She drowned. Most likely a riptide.”
“You feel responsible.”
“Aren’t I?”
“Bound by Lovewas as much about you as your ancestor.”
“I didn’t think so until Chloe pointed it out.” The intimate conversation knocked against his defenses and disturbed his raw, bruised self. “But, yeah, I wanted to give her life. Something I stole from her.”
“Chloe found faith. Hope.” Raymond sat back, his arms resting on the chair, looking more like a therapist than a movie director. “Maybe that’s the path for you. Maybe that’s why you love her.”
Jesse tossed back the last of his soda and placed his empty glass on a stone coaster, remembering his open e-mail, the decision he was about to make. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Raymond. But I need... I’m thinking of... I don’t know, change. A completely different path for me.”
“And Chloe’s not on it?”
“No, she’s not. Frankly, I don’t think she’d want to be.”
As he exited, the echo of his words called him a liar. He desperately wanted her on his path, in his life. And for all his MIT smarts, he couldn’t figure out how to completely let her in.
26
CHLOE
She glanced toward the guesthouse for the hundredth time that afternoon. He must not be home. In the kitchen with Mom and Glenda, she helped prep Saturday’s brunch—it was on the lanai today—as guests collected outside where a Hawaiian-shirt-wearing bartender served sparkling juices.
Home for three days, she’d hoped to see him, but the guesthouse appeared vacant. All too quiet. She’d braved a text or two, but Jesse never responded.
“So good to have you home.” Mom gave her a squeeze as she passed by. “It’s not the same around here without you.”
“You have Kate.”
“But I don’t have you. Glenda, make sure the kosher food is clearly marked for our Jewish guests this time. I think Lev Kirschbaum ate bacon last week.”
Chloe grinned. Mom was such a beauty. In every way. “When’s your next movie, Mom?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Hollywood is getting tired of me. I’m fifty-seven going on a hundred. I refuse to have plastic surgery and—”
“You’re too good not to cast.” Dad passed through, kissing her cheek.
“—I refuse to play one of those horny old cougars who makes a fool of herself by falling for some hot thirty-something who only has one thing on his mind. What in the world?”
Mom, for all of her experience and spicy roles, valued dignity and modesty. She was practical and levelheaded.
