At the sound of her voice, Grey was a goner. Already primed, she immediately burst into tears. Once Kamilah was somewhere quieter, her voice returned, exhilaration turning to concern as soon as she heard Grey’s tears.
“Are you okay? Did something happen?”
Grey choked out a sobbing laugh. “No, it’s good,” she burbled. “I got it. I gotGolden City.”
Kamilah screamed so loudly that Grey had to hold the phone away from her ear. She started laughing again, uncontrollably this time, the emotions that she kept locked up around Ethan taking over with a strength that almost frightened her.
“I can’t really talk, either. But I needed to tell you. And I miss you. And I love you.”
“I love you, too. That is so fucking sick.Pleasetell me you’re getting your back blown out by your movie star tonight to celebrate.”
Grey laughed even harder, tears still streaming down her face.
“We’re at a free luxury resort in Palm Springs right now, what do you think?” Again, not exactly a lie.
Behind her, she saw the door to the villa open and Ethan’s silhouette carrying the champagne bottle and two glasses. Grey hurriedly said her goodbyes as he approached her.
“Was that your mom?”
“Um, no, it was Kamilah,” she called back, trying to camouflage her sniffles.
He sat across from her on the other lounge chair and handed her one of the glasses. She cringed, knowing that she must look like a puffy, snotty mess. When her face caught the light streaming out from the doorway, he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Great.
“Are you okay? Is everything…do you need to be alone right now?”
She shook her head, sniffling, wishing she had something to wipe her eyes and nose on besides her arm.
“No, no, it’s fine. It’s good. I cry at everything. Especially when I’m overwhelmed. Or drunk. Or all of the above.”
Ethan laughed. He stood back up and quickly strode into the villa, returning with a box of tissues. She accepted them, trying to pull herself together as gracefully as possible. He picked the champagne bottle back up and tilted it away from them, popping the cork.
“That’s not a bad thing, necessarily. Being in touch with your emotions. Good for an actress.”
“That’s what they tell me. Too bad I look like a sun-dried tomato when I cry.”
Ethan chuckled, pouring a generous glass of champagne and passing it to her.
“You don’t look like a sun-dried tomato.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say that. I wasn’t trying to fish.”
He poured himself his own glass and set the bottle next to him on the concrete.
“I didn’t think you were fishing. But it’s true. You look beautiful.”
Grey blinked. Normally, hearing that wouldn’t faze her. She was confident in her appearance. She had to be, after twenty years of casting directors and wardrobe heads ruthlessly assessing her physical flaws and assets right in front of her, like she was a thoroughbred horse or a luxury car. It was either that, or allow the impossible standards of the industry to chip away at her self-esteem, one nitpick at a time, until she crumbled under the weight of her insecurities. But he said it so easily, without hesitation, as if he’d already told her a million times.
As if tonight weren’t surreal enough already.
“What should we toast to?” she asked breezily, changing the subject. They’d already toasted to her victory at dinner; it only seemed right to switch it up.
“How about to Audrey? Wouldn’t be here without her.” He tilted his glass toward her. She grinned, lifting hers in response.
“To Audrey, through whom all things are possible.”
“Amen.”
They clinked their glasses and each took a long sip. Grey gave him a sideways glance, taking in the way the light danced across his profile as he drank.
