Chapter 40
Nic
“They’re just people, like you and me,” I said to Avery before we left.
“The fuck they are,” was her eloquent reply.
But I remember how easily she charmed Ida Burton and Faye Fleming at my sister’s infamous—for many reasons—birthday party. How two of the most iconic actors of our time adore my girlfriend after seeing her in Queer Girl Summer.
We’re sitting on the deck of Ida and Faye’s house in Malibu, the ocean glowing orange under the setting sun.
“To love.” Derek lifts his glass.
“I’ll drink to that.” Ida shoots me a wink and even though I’ve known her for a long time—she used to be fake-married to my best friend, after all—I get what Avery means when she says that Ida is not a mere mortal like the rest of us.
Even dressed in just jeans and a blouse, with that magnificent mane of ginger curls and, especially, with that ridiculously radiant smile, she just pulls you in.
Faye might have been straight when she played opposite Ida in A New Day, but I bet she didn’t stand a chance.
Like I didn’t stand a chance with Avery.
“Fuck yeah,” Avery says. To me, she looks a million times more stunning than Ida Burton and Faye Fleming combined. “To my ex-therapist old lady.” She tilts her glass to mine. “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”
Avery’s not shy, not even among her idols, and to sit here with her, on Ida and Faye’s deck, with my dear friends Ben and Derek, and enjoy this moment together, fills me with utter joy. For five long years, I’ve always been the single one. But no more.
I’ve only gone and snagged Hollywood’s hottest star.
Some days, I have no idea how this happened.
When I asked Avery this question, secretly serious though disguised as a joke, she said, “Are you fucking kidding me? You are the most spectacular woman I’ve ever met.
” I happily accepted her answer and resisted the urge to dig deeper.
Sometimes, you meet someone you can’t run from.
Sometimes, you make a connection that changes something significant inside you.
And, in the end, love is love and, when you know—when you feel it everywhere—you have no choice but to go with it.
You make the sacrifice and don’t care what anyone thinks.
Because love is bigger than that. And the kind of connection Avery and I have is so rare, I’d be a fool to deny myself her love.
“To love.” I also lift my glass and look Avery in the eye.
Instantly, a buzz takes over my body. But it’s not just physical between us, although that has been a huge part of it.
How she can give herself to me time and time again is better than any climax.
How she has grown and has come to accept herself.
How she’s been ready to put in the work with Jan which, I know very well from experience, can be grueling and tedious and simply not something you want to put yourself through week after week, but Avery does it anyway.
She sits in that chair and talks about all the things she doesn’t want to talk about.
Then, she comes home to me. Also, time and time again.
“To lesbians,” Ben says. “Whom, I have learned, are definitely not our wiser, better-behaved sisters.”
We toast and laugh and enjoy each other’s company.
When I go inside to use the bathroom, my gaze is drawn to a massive painting on the wall.
I immediately recognize the artist. The colors alone give it away.
That’s a Raffo Shah. I’ve seen one before at Justine’s house and the style is unmistakable—all that bold, joyful color used like a language of its own.
This particular one is very different from the one at Justine’s.
It’s a painting of Ida and Faye with their two kids, painted in a way that makes it feel alive.
Ida’s eyes have that spark that so defines her.
Faye’s gaze is softer and there’s such warmth in how her hands rest on their kids’ shoulders.
There’s motion in the brushwork, as if the artist didn’t just want to capture how they looked—but how they are. Raffo Shah definitely succeeded.
It makes me think of the many pictures I have of Lois and me. They will remain in their spots in my house—and my heart—but new ones will be added. Pictures of Avery and me.
Maybe that’s the most surprising thing of all—that the heart doesn’t shut down after one great love. It doesn’t fill up and stay full. It expands and makes room for more.
I used to think Lois was the one-and-only great love of my life.
I’d resigned myself to the fact that, at least, I’d had it and experienced it.
The love that Lois and I shared was already such a rare and precious thing, it was only logical, I told myself after she died, that you’d only get one of those in your lifetime.
But, just like so many of us do, I was only protecting myself.
Before I walk back onto the deck, I glance at Avery.
She’s laughing at something Derek just said, one hand curled around her glass, the other brushing against her face.
The light catches the gold in her sun-kissed hair, and for a moment, I can only stare.
She couldn’t look more like someone who belongs on a movie poster, but right now, she’s just mine.
Confident and radiant, with eyes that miss nothing and a mouth that’s always ready for an f-bomb. Oh, how I love her.
Avery spots me and returns my gaze. To retake my seat next to her is, at the same time, a small and humongous pleasure.
Faye’s attention is pulled to two women walking hand in hand on the beach.
“Looks like the neighbors are out for a walk,” she says.
“Is that Ava Castaneda?” Avery asks.
“Yeah, she and Charlie live in the house next door,” Faye says.
“Is that a sandwich you’d be into?” Derek asks Avery, because he just can’t help himself.
“I have all the sandwich I need right here.” Avery leans into me and pecks me on the cheek.
“Maybe they really aren’t as misbehaved as us,” Ben chimes in.
The four females at the table all shake their heads, Avery very much included.
“Both Ava and Charlie are huge fans of Queer Girl Summer,” Ida says. “That’s probably why they’re casually strolling by, pretending not to look over.”
“Why didn’t you invite them?” Derek asks.
“Faye wanted Nic and Avery all to herself,” Ida deadpans.
“Is that so?” Ben asks. “Should we take our leave now?” He squints at Ida. “Are we even welcome here?”
“My ex-husband and his husband will always be welcome here,” Ida says.
On the beach below, Ava and Charlie have started waving. They approach the back of the deck. Faye gets up and invites them to join.
“Don’t be surprised if Charlie offers to write you a trilogy. Or a ten-season series,” Ida says. “Queer Girl Summer really kind of shook her. I think she’s a little jealous she didn’t write it.”
“I’d love to work with Charlie Cross,” Avery says, as though playing queer roles and working with queer screen writers and directors is all she does now.
“Oh Christ,” Derek says. “I thought I was at a dinner party at my ex-wife’s, but no dinner has been served and, instead, I’m afraid this is going to turn into some sort of lesbian brainstorming session.”
“Ava and I are bi,” Faye says drily.
“That doesn’t change the amount of estrogen on this deck,” Derek says.
“Most of us are well above fifty,” Faye says while winking at me. “Making estrogen the least of your worries.”
“And yet.” Derek paints on a smile. “Not a stray chin hair in sight. The wonders of Hollywood never cease.”
Ava and Charlie arrive, adding even more star power to this already star-studded deck and I have to pinch myself that this is my life. Still, I only have eyes for Avery as Charlie and Ava fawn over her, and she accepts their compliments with grace and ease.
Avery meets my gaze again. She’s still half-listening to Ava, nodding along, utterly in her element. And even though we are surrounded by Hollywood’s finest, with too many Oscars and Emmys between them to count, Avery looks at me like I’m the only one worth noticing.
That’s the kind of love I never thought I’d get twice—but somehow, I did.
THE END