“But you know who pulled me through? Darnell. I didn’t even know him—we’d just started shooting a film together, though I swiftly got fired. But every morning, he came to my house and forced me out of bed and took me surfing. Every damn day, whether I wanted it or not—and I didn’t, not at first. The thing with Darnell? There was no judgment at all—not like with my parents. They stood by me, of course, but you could tell they were struggling with the ‘why.’ They’d spent my whole life warning me about shit like that. But I could talk to Darnell, or not talk to him—he didn’t mind. We talked a lot of shit that had nothing to do with it. And occasionally we talked aboutit.Hebecame my journal. And nothing I said to him leaked.”
“Time, both thief and friend,” Lana said, fighting to keep her voice steady. “Share with me the weight of youth’s dark climb.”
“What’s that, a poem?”
“One of Darnell’s. An older man consoling a young friend, wishing he could take the pain. It’s beautiful.” A tear escaped her eye, followed by another, and she quickly wiped them. “About the helplessness of watching someone hurting, knowing time is the only healer but it’s not a gift any of us has the power to give. So instead, he gives the younger man hisowntime and hopes like hell it’s enough. It’s beautiful.”
Griffin burst out laughing.
“You’re … laughing?”
“You’re telling me evenDarnellsold my story?”
“I’m sure it wasn’t like that! It’s very subtle.”
“I’m kidding. But you gotta acknowledge the irony.” They stopped for a red light, and he reached over and wiped a tear she’d missed, like it was him comforting her. She was reminded of his light touch on her face before he’d kissed her, and the ache in her chest took on several dimensions—sympathy, yearning, fire. “So yeah,” he said, turning back as the light went green, “this is why my best buddy is a seventy-two-year-old vegan eccentric. And I’ve been able to help him with some stuff here and there. He has his own challenges. We all do, right?”
“We do. But I imagine they get amplified in a life like yours. Griffin, you don’t have to answer this—you don’t have to answer anything—but you asked me before, and I… Areyoulonely?”
He grunted. “That’s a big word.”
“It is. Sorry. It’s just … I would have imagined someone like you to be surrounded by people, to the point of it being hard to escape.”
“Are you saying my parents and a septuagenarian method actor aren’t the cool entourage you expected? You don’t picture us walking along Rodeo Drive in slow-mo, making eyes at girls?”
She laughed.
“For the record, I do have other friends. But mostly in this business, you have friends for a season. You get incredibly close to people for several intense months while you’re filming, and they become your life, and then you only catch up in passing, if you happen to be in the same town or at the same event.”
“Their phone numbers fall off your contacts?”
“Exactly. Gotta admit, I’m a sucker for those small-town sitcoms where you see the same people every day, all your life.”
“Not as great as it’s cracked up to be.”
“Most things aren’t. But look, I grew up enormously privileged. I don’t get to complain.”
“You are allowed to acknowledge if you’re not happy.”
“Who said I wasn’t happy?” A note of defensiveness crept in.
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying, it’s not indulgent or unforgivingly privileged to look after your mental health.”
“I make my life work for me. Happy enough.”
She scoffed, recognizing the phrase. “And who needs more than that?”
“Right?”
That was obviously as far as he was prepared to go into the question of loneliness or happiness. And wasn’t that what she did—lived a completely functional life, if not one in which she felt gloriously fulfilled?
They turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard and the late-afternoon sun blasted into her eyes. She lowered the shade. Was Griffin expecting she’d stay the night? Was it even safe to go back to her place? Her car was still outside Vivien’s. And if shewasstaying with him, would she be on the sofa, or…?
She rubbed her belly. What was their status now? He’d soundly rejected the possibility of a future between them—and she would have too, if the situation were reversed. But then, they’d made plans that went beyond this crisis. Big plans—watching movies and reading books. Just the thought made her body fizz and warm. She’d made plans with a guy she seriously liked. And with every slow, reluctant reveal of himself, she liked him more. He was thoughtful and smart and funny, and his heart was so big, even if he tried to keep it shut away and safe.
If all he wanted out of this was friendship—if that was all they could have—she could be that person. The thought of having him in her life in any capacity made her feel five pounds lighter. And being his friend would be way easier than being his … anything else. Surely even she could stop herself from sabotaging a friendship.
As they approached his street, she hid in the back, and again there were a few shouts. There was no sign of his parents atthe house, though she could hear a vacuum droning in a distant room. In the pool house, a pile of neatly folded women’s clothes and underwear sat on the coffee table, with a bag of toiletries. There was a note:Lana—thought you might like these. I’ve had the guest room made up for you, in case you need somewhere to stay. Evangeline.
