Well, hell, she’d end up in the same place today if she decided not to even try, except with a what-if that could haunt her for life.
She slid a hand along his stomach. “If being forced out of my shell is the price I have to pay to have a chance at this, so be it.” She felt his body relax, a humming tension releasing.
“I haven’t been able to think about anything else, all night. I want the kind of life where I meet a woman and we drift into a relationship for no other reason than we like each other and it feels good. I know we’re still really early on in this, but I think I might have met my one in ten thousand, and I wanna find out if it’s true.”
“You don’t think it’s just circumstance, or the drama? Not that I’m saying I do.” Lana might not have woken after being sedated for a month, but her sudden change in circumstances was still dizzying.
“I say it’s fate.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in fate.”
“I didn’t. But it’s not every woman with whom I get stranded, go into hiding, solve a crime. Not forgetting that I watched you die and come back to life, only to save my life. It’s not every woman with whom I have all that and a deeper connection. You may find this hard to believe, but this is the first time that’s all happened to me.”
“You really have lived a sheltered life.”
“Right? I’m sure this has happened to you at least a dozen times.”
“I’ve lost count.”
“Also, you make me laugh.” He tipped up her chin so he could look into her eyes. “All I want is you, Lana. I have all this other shit, all the shit that people think they want, and until I met you, I didn’t realize I didn’t have the thing I want most. Ineedmost. This connection.” He swallowed, with apparent difficulty. “But I totally understand if that’s not what you want—if my stupid life is not what you want. If you want me to leave now, I will. But either way, from now on I’m going to live my life the way I want.”
He went blurry at the edges, like an unashamedly beautiful watercolor. A John Singer Sargent. “If you leave now,” she said huskily, “I’m pretty sure I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering if this was my one chance.”
“We wouldn’t be the first, you know—the first well-known actor and regular person to date. People make it work. We can make up our own rules, figure it out—though you might have to put up with some extra attention at the library.”
“Attention, ugh. Though, to be fair, figuring out how to makeuswork seems like an ordinary challenge compared with what we’ve been through the last few days.”
“You must be exhausted. Wanna come back to mine for a break? I booked your folks into the Beverly Wilshire, so they can be close to the hospital.”
“I could use the retreat.”
“Fair warning, though—it’s a party outside my street. Fans, media, paps—like I’ve never seen. I ordered them all pizza, but now I’m wondering if I’ve just encouraged them and they’ll never leave. But once we get through that, we could open some wine, I could make us a meal.” His eyebrow hiked. “We could put on a movie…”
“Not sure I’ll make it through a triple feature, but that sounds like a fantasy come true.” Itwasa fantasy come true, just not one she’d ever dared to dream. “If we’re alien hermits together, does that mean we’re no longer hermits?”
“Oh, I dunno—I like the idea of being hermits together. And if it’s okay, I’d like to keep your number in my phone.”
Epilogue
Six months later
The limo was still a block from the theater, and already Lana could hear the crowds screaming. She was on her hands and knees in the back seat—Evangeline’s advice, to avoid crushing the vintage red silk-satin Valentino gown last worn at a Hollywood awards ceremony in 1968, by Griffin’s late grandmother. “You don’t want crotch wrinkles on the red carpet,” she’d warned.
Evangeline had also lent her stunning gold and diamond earrings, though Lana had politely refused the offer of the matching necklace, preferring to wear her pendant.
Walter was watching from his Bel Air home—he couldn’t bear to go without Grace, who’d passed away in her sleep some four months previously. Lana hoped he’d see the pendant and know a part of him was there. The police had managed to return much of his money, and somehow the scandal of his affair hadn’t broken—but then several of the most infamous gossip websites had folded since the extortion investigation began.
Griffin’s parents’ limo, ahead of theirs in line, inched forward. As their driver followed, Griffin caught Lana’s hips to steady her.
“It’s so weird to be dressed up like this at four o’clock in the afternoon,” she said. But then, she’d spent most of the day having her hair and makeup done and getting sewn into the gown, while Griffin had merely shaved and put product in his hair.
“Everything about this life is weird,” he said, adjusting his cufflinks. “Everything but you.” He wore a midnight blue tuxedo and crisp white shirt, and Lana couldn’t even glance at him without feeling lightheaded.
“Safe to sit properly now,” he said, as they neared the red carpet. “You don’t want the door to open when you’re like that. People will get the wrong idea.”
They sat hand in hand as Elliott, the family’s publicist, approached Evangeline and Peter’s limo. Attendants in red jackets and headsets opened the rear doors and the couple stepped out to loud cheers. They waved to the fans who’d won seats in bleachers across the road. Their limo moved away and Griffin and Lana’s rolled up to take its place. Hundreds of photographers and journalists lined one side of the red-carpet walking route—Elliott had warned Lana it could take an hour or more to get into the theater.
“Ready?” Griffin asked, squeezing her hand.
