I can hear him take a big gulp before he says, “I meant what I said on the podcast.”
“What?”
“You could be standing in a corner of a crowded room, and I couldn’t not notice you.”
“Holden,” I whisper, “take care of yourself.”
Just like that, our conversation ends, I pick myself up to walk alongside the ocean, feeling the wet sand between my toes.
As the wind picks up, I shove my fingertips in my jean pockets for warmth. I feel the cardstock on my right side.
When I pull it out, I reread what she wrote me:
444-5673—I’m available even in the middle of the night if you change your mind.
Chapter thirty-six
The Final Act
There are days when I wonder if you will ever come back. I can’t see you, feel you or hear the faint whispers of your tone. There is nothing steering me in any direction anymore.
Nope, this is all me. It is fucking terrifying.
So, in case one day you decide to surprise me, to appear out of nowhere— flipping your hair, giving me some sage advice about a path not taken…
Here are my days documented. All the days you weren’t peering over my shoulder. Cheers to not being angry anymore.
Day 1
When I called Audrey last night, her voice was groggy and it took about five minutes before she could coherently saysomething back to me that sounded like English. Now, I am driving to an abandoned building in a sketchy part of town to meet her.
I’m assuming this is my punishment for disrupting her beauty sleep.
Day 5
It’s been a few days of work with Audrey. So far, I must impress her because I’ve been tasked with finding a writer to help with the rewrites for the script.
“The bones of it are good. We just need some flavor.”
I’m going to get carpal tunnel with how often I am emailing and scouring the internet to find someone who has the “flavor.”
Day 25
The new writer I found is asking me to help with the second pass of the third act.
Who knew leaving annotated notes throughout a script would give such a high?
Day 40
Gabriel Eclaire has finally approved the rewrites of the script and just signed our contract to join the film.
The second Audrey told me, we just about exploded from the news. Jumping up and down in each other’s arms, girlishly screaming.
Day 41
Audrey took me out for margaritas to celebrate locking down a writer and director for the film. We have entered the “casting phase” of preproduction.
I wish I could see your audition, Skye. If my dream of you on stage was accurate, I bet you would be incredible.
