Nora nodded. “Of course. You know I can only protect them from so much, though. Kids talk.” She leaned forward on the counter, propping her chin on her hand. “So. How’d you meet her?”
As if coming to his rescue, Sydney and Elle barreled into the kitchen, oversized backpacks bouncing up and down on their shoulders.
“Daddy!” Elle yelled, throwing herself onto him. Ethan picked up the seven-year-old and nestled her onto his hip. “Wanna see my drawing? It’s in my backpack. It’s a dragon who’s a princess.” Sydney, just barely too old to be carried at nine but still buzzing for his attention, hovered next to them.
“Dad! Have you seenBeetlejuice? It’s my favorite movie of all time. Can we watch it tonight?”
“I thoughtMinionswas your favorite,” Ethan commented, dropping Elle to the floor and ruffling her hair. Sydney rolled her eyes behind her violet frames.
“Daad.Minionsis for babies.”
“I likeMinions,” Elle protested.
“Well, you’re ababy.”
Elle stamped her foot. “Amnot.”
“Are so.”
Nora raised her eyebrows at him over the tops of their heads. “Enjoy them.”
“Always do.” He crouched down to their level. “I think we have time to watchBeetlejuice and Minions. How does that sound?”
Elle pouted. “Beetlejuiceis too scary. It gave me bad dreams.”
“Yeah, because you’re a baby.”
“Okay, that’s enough,” said Ethan, standing back up. “No more name-calling, Syd. Let’s get in the car and we can work it out on the way home. How do you guys feel about pizza tonight?”
They both squealed and nodded vigorously in approval. He began to herd them toward the car. Nora followed them to the door. She leaned in to him, murmuring so the girls wouldn’t hear.
“I’d love to meet her. When you’re ready, of course.”
Ethan jerked his head in something resembling a nod.
“You got it.”
—
GREY PUSHED HERshopping cart through Gelson’s, pausing to eye the antipasti bar. Heaping mounds of stuffed olives, marinated feta, and balsamic-glazed cipollini onions glistened back at her. Her stomach growled. She’d made the rookie mistake of going grocery shopping without eating beforehand. However, since the purpose of this trip was to stock up on snacks for a weekend on her couch with the complete Nora Ephron filmography, maybe it was better to let her whims guide her. She grabbed a plastic tub and started loading it with dolmas.
She was relieved to have a few days without Ethan while he was busy with his kids. Of course, not physically being in his presence didn’t mean she was free of him completely. The day after their dinner date, curled up in bed with a debilitating hangover, she hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Between napping, chugging coconut water, running to the bathroom, and brooding over every single thing she’d said and done the night before, she’d huddled under her comforter with her phone. Even though she was totally alone in the house, she felt like someone was about to burst in at any moment, rip off the covers, and expose her watching Ethan’s Oscar acceptance speech over and over. Maybe that waswhat fame did to you: made you paranoid that none of your private moments would ever be private again.
Of course, she couldn’t really call herself “famous” yet. Sure, her Instagram followers had already almost doubled, and their trip to the coffee shop would have quickly turned into a mob scene if there had been more than five people there at the time. Renata had even sent over a few scripts to look at over the weekend; not a mountain, but still more than the scraps she had been getting. But she didn’t delude herself that this was the result of anything more than the proximity to Ethan’s fame. He was the sun and she merely orbited around him, reflecting his incandescence.
It was all working out exactly according to plan. The queasy feeling she had watching twenty-four-year-old Ethan, shaggy hair falling over eyes wide with disbelief, embracing Sam, then Nora, before leaping onstage at the Kodak Theatre, was nothing to worry about. Probably just the hangover. He’d made it pretty clear that while he found her pleasant enough to pass the time with, any feelings she had for him stronger than polite indifference were decidedly unwelcome. Fine by her.
Grey circled around the bar, her eyes moving back and forth between the garlic and blue cheese–stuffed olives. She caught a movement out of the corner of her eye: a middle-aged mother pushing a baby in her cart, who immediately turned to inspect the frozen sausages to hide the fact that she’d been gaping at Grey. Grey gave her a warm half smile, which emboldened her to abandon the sausages and make her approach.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. I just…you’re Ethan Atkins’s new girlfriend, aren’t you?”
Grey nodded, still smiling, though her heart rate picked up. “That’s me! I’m Grey. How’s it going?”
Instead of returning her smile, the woman’s eyes narrowedand her face darkened. “I hope you treat him right. He’s been through so much…he doesn’t deserve another heartbreak.”
Grey was stunned. She thought she must have misheard. “Um…I’m sorry? Do you…are you a friend of his?”
The woman got close enough that Grey instinctively clutched her olives tighter. She brandished her finger in Grey’s face. “Don’t you get cute with me. The last thing he needs is some gold-digging fame whore latching on to him and sucking him dry. You better watch yourself.”
