Chapter 25
Grayson
Ezra is quiet for most of our return trip home.
We spent our final night doing our absolute best not to think about the real world and what was waiting for us.
The two of us snuck into the gated pool at the hotel late after hours and watched the stars until well past midnight.
And then we lay side-by-side in our king-sized bed, talking about the trips we could take.
The places we could see and where Madison might like to visit.
But with every hour that passed in our blissful bubble, the morning loomed closer.
I’m not used to Ezra being so withdrawn, but I leave him to his silence as miles of highway pass.
For all I know, he’s plotting the next ten steps in his plan to guide the media’s response to our supposed romance.
I know Shawn thinks Ezra is too laissez-faire about his image, especially now with everything that’s happening.
But Ezra is always one step ahead. He’s simply quiet about his maneuvering .
The man would make an excellent chess player if he ever got the inclination. Or even a war general.
Ezra’s shoulders get tense as we drive the side streets toward home. I reach over, squeezing his arm, and he shoots me a tiny smile. Always a brave face. Always brave, period.
The reporters appear once we turn onto our drive. They race toward the vehicle, cameras flashing, questions shouted our way that we ignore.
Ezra’s smile is rueful. “Ready to face the music?”
“The symphony has already begun,” I murmur.
The gates open slowly in front of us, Ezra maneuvering forward through the crowd. No one dares step inside, but they continue shouting as the metal clangs shut behind us. Shawn’s vehicle is waiting in front of the garage, and Ezra lets out a mighty sigh.
“It’s not too late to run,” I tease. “We could dye our hair. Live on some remote island where no one knows our faces.”
He snorts. “Don’t tempt me. Maybe one day, though. Me. You. Goddamn meringue. I swear to God, I’m going to learn.”
I huff a small laugh. “Sounds like a perfect, simple life.”
A wistful smile breaks out across Ezra’s face before he squares his shoulders, ready to go off to battle.
Shawn is waiting for us in the kitchen, a glass of sparkling water on the table in front of him.
His laptop is out, as well as his phone and a tablet, all open to various articles that have popped up in the past few days we’ve been gone.
I’m surprised there’s no whiteboard with ominous red string connecting the lot.
Without preamble, Shawn begins. “Here’s where we’re at.
There are photos of Grayson coming here with increasing frequency over the past couple weeks, ever since he moved in.
There are pictures of you two from over the years, questioning how much of your bromance was a lie.
There are articles about Grayson and Camilla, detailing the recent divorce.
And there’s a shit-ton of buzz about what this means for Hollywood, two of its prominent stars being queer. ”
Ezra offers our agent a beer he grabbed from the fridge. “Shawn. Book me an interview.”
Shawn looks from the beer to Ezra’s face.
Ezra waves the bottle enticingly. “Low-calorie.”
With a humph , Shawn grabs it, twisting off the top. “You’re serious?”
“Deadly.” Ezra sprawls out on the couch.
I take my own seat in the living room, Shawn joining us and sitting delicately on a wingback chair Ezra and I found years ago that he had reupholstered.
“Set me up with one of the talk show hosts we like, and I promise you won’t have to do a thing. I’ll set the record straight.”
“The record.” Shawn’s eyes ping slowly between us. “Being that you two are just friends and there’s nothing whatsoever else happening here?”
Ezra heaves a sigh, but there’s a smile on his face when his head lolls my way. “The record being… The two of us are wildly, irrevocably, and madly in love.”
Shawn takes a big gulp from his beer. “Well, shit.”
Ezra’s lips turn up at the corner, his eyes full of mischief as he sends me a wink.
Shit, indeed.
“Wine?” Harper asks, a bottle and two glasses in her hand as she joins me on the couch. She pours without waiting for an answer.
My attention is locked on the TV.
I offered to go with Ezra to his interview, but he politely declined, telling me it’d only stress me out more to be there in the wings doing nothing. He wasn’t wrong.
But I’m still stressed. Not about what Ezra will say or how this will impact us. I’m nervous for him . That he’s doing this on his own. But he was adamant about that, too, knowing my preference for such things.
Sometimes, the force of Ezra’s love nearly knocks me on my ass.
I know people in our life don’t get it. Madison.
Camilla. Shawn. Even Harper, who merely winked and nodded when I told her the truth of Ezra and me.
No one believes us, that we could possibly want to spend our lives together—share years and create memories—without a sexual or romantic component.
But why can’t we? Ezra is my person. And I’m his. I’ve never questioned it, not once in the last twenty years. I found him, and I knew.
I love that man more than I’ll ever love anybody, my own daughter withstanding. Why can’t love, in any form, be enough? People want to shape us into something we’re not because they can’t see the beauty there. They don’t understand it, and I ache with that knowledge.
Because don’t they realize?
Love is boundless. It’s immeasurable and immense. Beauty on its own. It’s the reason a person’s eyes soften. It’s why we go to great lengths just to make someone smile.
Romance, sex, friendship, even, are all secondary to what love is at its core. It’s the very makeup of our being. It’s our essence, reaching out to another and finding our reflection in kind.
Love is who we are. What we have to give.
And having that returned to us? It’s an affirmation of our very being. That we’re understood. Accepted. That we’re real.
Why try to place limits on that? All love is to be treasured.
And Ezra’s love is a treasure I won’t ever part with willingly.
Harper nudges my arm, passing over the wine I didn’t ask for but am grateful to have. “Are you freaking out?”
I shake my head, setting my prior thoughts loose as I accept the glass. “No. I’m fine.”
“No offense, but you don’t exactly look it.”
That has me laughing softly. “Really, I’m okay. This is Ezra’s show. I’m just here to watch.”
Harper hums, glancing at the TV that’s streaming the talk show Ezra will be appearing on soon. The host is making his introductory speech to the audience, hyping everyone up, joking about a few topical current events.
“It’s not exactly a surprise, you know. You two.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
Harper sets her own wine glass down on the coffee table, scooting her legs up onto the couch.
Her sweater nearly swamps her entire body, as large as it is.
It’s one of the fashionable kind that hangs off her slim shoulder.
“I mean, you guys have always had this thing . It’s magnetic.
And everyone can see it, but being on set with you two?
” She whistles. “I could feel it. You guys are so in sync, like you’re tied together, moving as one. ”
My lips pull into a smile because it’s always felt like that to me, too .
“I know I haven’t really known you guys long,” she goes on. “But I’m happy for you. I kinda wanted to hate you, I’m not gonna lie. I mean, Ezra Gold? Shit, the man is fine.”
My laugh this time comes from deep within my belly. So I’ve heard, time and time again. I understand on a fundamental level, of course. I can see Ezra’s good looks. But to me, he’s never been his outward appearance. He’s just…my Ezra.
“But I couldn’t be mad at either of you,” Harper says around a sigh. “You guys are too nice . It’s tragic, really. Guys like you aren’t supposed to be nice.”
“That’s a shame. I think niceness should be expected, not the exception.”
She raises an eyebrow. “It’s like trying to argue with a ray of sunshine.”
I huff a laugh, but words from the TV catch my attention. The host, Jeffrey Maxim, is talking about his guest now, a secretive grin on his face.
“Shit,” I mutter, my nerves returning, even though I know this has already happened. With the delay, Ezra is likely on his way home by now.
Harper rubs my shoulder. “It’ll be okay. Whatever happens, I’m sure of it.”
“Thanks,” I say, despite the heavy beat of my pulse. “I appreciate you being here for this.”
Shawn spent the interview at the studio with Ezra. I would have invited Madison, but she has an important final tomorrow, and I didn’t want to pull her away from studying. Harper, on the other hand, was all too willing to come keep me company.
“Are you kidding?” she says, a cheeky smile on her face. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Ooh, here we go. ”
Harper grabs her wine, resettling on the couch as Ezra is called onstage.
The audience cheers and hollers, the sound ridiculously loud.
Ezra plays it up, giving them a wicked grin as he walks Jeffrey’s way.
The two shake hands, Jeffrey saying something quietly off-mic, and then they take their seats, Jeffrey behind his desk, Ezra on the small couch beside it.
“Ezra Gold,” Jeffrey says. “It’s an absolute pleasure having you here. When’s the last time I saw you? Five years ago?”
Ezra clutches his chest. “Four, Jeffrey. Honestly, I’m hurt that you don’t remember.”
The crowd laughs, and Ezra sends them a wink.
Jeffrey for his part, looks repentant, in an amused way. “My apologies. Four years. Either way, it’s been a while. What have you been up to? You just finished filming A Worthy Deception , isn’t that right?”
“Sure is.” Ezra fixes his jacket as he settles more fully into his seat, ankle crossed over his knee. “But we both know I’m not here to talk about my newest movie.”