6. Graham
GRAHAM
THEN
February, Year One
Butterflies wreaked havoc in my stomach all week as the question of will he or won’t he weighed heavily on my mind. By the time Miguel climbed out of his compact sedan on Saturday at seven o’clock on the dot, the flutters felt more like bombs detonating.
He ditched his usual blazer, and the sweater he wore over a button-down shirt accentuated his slim physique. Was he always perfectly polished, or did he ever go for a casual look? Glancing at my feet, I silently chided myself for not wearing socks or shoes on our first date.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked, ascending the stone steps to the porch.
“A few months.”
My split-level house looked like a brown box and wasn’t the most aesthetically pleasing home on the street. The merman fountain in the center of the driveway didn’t work and was also an eyesore, but the backyard oasis with incredible views made up for the home’s lack of curb appeal.
Miguel fiddled with his car keys before shoving them in his pants pocket.
Since the moment for a handshake or hug had passed, I opened the ornate front door and ushered him inside.
A small foyer with a coat tree doubled as a landing between the two levels, and we headed upstairs, where he came to a swift stop in the living room.
“This is a lot of gold,” he said.
The gold wallpaper with foil detailing was a little blinding. It matched the striped sofas and gilded frames with generic landscapes, all courtesy of the previous owner.
“The house came furnished. I got a good deal on it, but it needs work.” Since he seemed like the type who wouldn’t take the news of someone dying in the house well, I omitted the minor detail.
“I know some interior designers if you need professional help,” he said, following me to the updated kitchen.
Modern cabinets and appliances earned his hum of approval. The interior hadn’t mattered to me because I spent most of my time outdoors, but impressing Miguel became a sudden priority.
“The back of the house is all windows, and this is my favorite feature…”
With the push of a button, a glass panel slid open to the balcony. My outdoor living space had dining and lounge areas with teak furniture, plush green cushions, and a fire pit.
The guardrail beckoned him, and he wrapped his hands around the weathered wood while looking out at the canyon. “Nice view.”
I kept several feet between us and pointed east. “You can’t tell from the road, but my property connects to Tate’s. We use a gap in the fence between our houses to sneak around when the paparazzi follow us home.”
“Who’s Tate?” The jealousy in his tone rang loud enough for him to wince.
I prowled toward him, dragging my fingertips along the railing, unable to contain the delight on my face. “Makenzie’s real name is Tatum. Guess you didn’t look her up when you did your research on me.”
“I don’t listen to pop music. She seemed irrelevant.” The rugged landscape stole his gaze again. “You’re committed to the ruse with her.”
“We look out for each other. Our Hollywood love story wasn’t the original plan, but her fans shipped us and our teams ran with it. We have our reasons for playing along. I won’t share hers, but mine are simple: privacy and a career boost.”
“Sounds complicated.” His shoulders hunched as he leaned forward to examine the backyard below us. Tropical plants filled the gardens, and an infinity pool spilled into the hills. “Don’t you worry about what everyone will say if the truth comes out?”
Miguel’s question gave me pause. The first nugget of wisdom my current manager shared when I hired him was to protect my peace.
In the early years, I received indecent photos, videos, and proposals from men and women on social media, daily.
And plenty of people offered unsolicited critiques on everything from my looks to my acting skills.
I’d since handed over my public accounts to a PR team, and I avoided tabloids altogether.
The industry’s opinion of me and my work ethic became my primary concern.
Outside of acting, I had created a safe space where I could be myself among a few trusted friends.
That space felt smaller and more suffocating with each passing day.
With a halfhearted smile and a shrug, I said, “I try not to dwell on things I have no control over. I’d rather spend my energy adding to all the good in the world.”
“We live in different worlds,” he mumbled, glancing over his shoulder at the patio door.
My pulse kicked up a notch, but it settled when he faced the canyon again. The deep grooves between his eyebrows screamed his doubts about me into the darkening sky.
I dipped my head to catch his eye. “Your wheels are spinning. Can we eat dinner before you write me off?”
Nodding, he released his firm grip on the railing.
After pulling out his chair at the table for six, I took the seat to his left.
For a moment that stretched like a lifetime, we stared at the dinner spread without speaking.
My inexperience with romantic first dates was on full display.
I may have gone overboard with the presentation, but he struck me as a man with refined tastes.
“I ordered takeout because I’m useless in the kitchen,” I said.
“You call this takeout?” The amused gleam in his eye rivaled the whimsical string lights overhead as he plucked the origami bird napkin off his plate.
I removed the lids from the silver chafers, and the savory aroma of Thai cuisine wafted to our noses.
He reached for a serving spoon, but I gently knocked his hand aside.
With a grunt, he folded his arms over his chest and observed as I plated the food, poured the iced tea, and lit a candle.
His leg jerked when our knees touched, but he grabbed his polished silverware and dug in without comment.
A few breaths of awkward silence and chewing passed before he severed the tension. “So…you’re into movies. I’m not. We might as well end this while we’re ahead.”
I chuckled and speared a piece of chicken with my fork. “You plan to challenge me every step of the way, don’t you?”
“Would this be any fun for you if I didn’t?”
“No fun at all.” When his lips twitched, I knew I had to make him smile before the night was over. “Have you always lived in LA?”
“East Los Angeles, born and raised. Most of my family lives there, but I don’t see them as often as I should.” Miguel shoved a bite of spicy noodles into his mouth and moaned. “Wow. So fucking good.”
Visions flooded my head, ones of him moaning and saying those exact words while his body writhed against mine. I choked on my chicken, and a muffled coughing fit broke my inappropriate train of thought.
“Drink this.” He pressed a glass into my hand and rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”
“Mm-hmm. Sorry. Wrong pipe.” I downed the drink while my mind retreated to the safer topics of relatives and geography. “My parents live in Colorado, but we don’t talk much either. They had me in their forties, and there’s always been a disconnect between us.”
The age gap between me and my parents had nothing to do with our disconnect. Them having a surprise baby was the cause of it. From what I gathered, a child-free life was the only thing they agreed on after their wedding.
Miguel shifted in his seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, do they know you’re gay?”
Grinning, I cut through a spring roll and placed half on his plate. “Yes, my parents know. When I was seventeen, they came home early from a party and caught me making out with a friend. We had an awkward conversation in my bedroom about the bees and the bees. All of us.”
His hand froze with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Holy shit, a nightmare,” he whispered.
“It was. My friend panicked. He was convinced the whole town would find out, so he kept his distance from me after that. I have to give my parents some credit, though. They weren’t upset to learn I had no interest in dating girls.”
“Maybe they already knew.” He let out an exasperated sigh.
“God, when I told my parents I’d never marry a girl because my best friend Jordan was going to be my husband, they looked at me with pity.
Apparently, I was the last in the family to figure it out.
So, naturally, I got mad at them for withholding information.
Even at twelve, I hated being kept in the dark. ”
“Because you don’t belong there.”
The truth smacked me in the face, wiping the remnants of my amusement clean off.
I was such a hypocrite. There I sat, hoping Miguel would be willing to cower in the shadowed side of my duplicitous life.
It felt wrong when his radiance was what drew me to him.
His light deserved to be magnified, not diminished.
I set my fork down and rested my forearms on the table, hands balled into fists.
“I’m sorry. You were right to question my character.
I’m lying to everyone. Hollywood isn’t as progressive behind the scenes as people think, and if anyone finds out I’m a fraud, my reputation and career will be ruined.
But those are my burdens to carry. It’s not fair to ask you—”
“Graham.” The cool hand he placed on my wrist tempered my heated flesh. “You’re not a fraud.”
The air rushed from my lungs, so fast I almost folded in half. Despite the overwhelming relief and validation his words delivered to my soul, I couldn’t accept them without making myself clear.
“If you stick around after tonight, I’ll expect you to keep whatever happens between us a secret. No one can know unless they sign an NDA.”
Soft fingertips grazed the back of my hand as he withdrew his touch.
“If it makes you feel better, I’d prefer to keep things quiet.
I also value my privacy. And I might be willing to see where this goes as long as I’m not pressured or tricked into anything.
Give me all the facts, and I’ll decide what’s best for me. ”
“I can do that,” I said with an eager nod.
I would try my best not to scare him off with my ambitious approach to life. At the lawyer’s office, he’d commented that I must be used to getting what I want. He wasn’t wrong, but I took pride in working hard for everything I earned.
Fame came with many perks, but I was picky about which ones I leveraged, like hiring my lawyer’s private investigator to find Miguel.
He didn’t seem too pleased about my clever methods.
If he was tallying pros and cons, my grand gesture appeared to be a tick in the negative column, along with my celebrity status.
The latter thought had me sitting up straighter. “Did you really not know who I was on the beach?”
His mouth quirked to one side. “I honestly didn’t. My cousin told me after I was served with the lawsuit.”
“The fake lawsuit. I had to get your attention, and I couldn’t show up on your doorstep without causing a scene.”
Miguel stretched his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders. “What’s it like, being famous?”
Spinning my glass on the table, I sighed. “Exciting, at first. Then it became overwhelming. I didn’t become an actor for the fame. I did it for the film education and the money.”
His gaze slid to the windows, as though he could see the ratty furnishings inside from where he sat. “You don’t seem to spend much of that money.”
“I save it. I want to make my own movies, and I’d rather fund them myself than have a studio breathing down my neck or taking away my creative control.”
He watched me over the rim of his glass while finishing his tea. I liked having his eyes on me. With him, I didn’t need to hide.
“You’re very forthcoming about yourself, considering our NDA expired,” he said.
“Do you plan to expose me?”
“Never.” The earnest declaration sounded like a vow. It also confirmed my gut feeling about his high level of integrity.
“Good.” I tossed my napkin on the table and shoved my chair back. “Do you drink whiskey?”
“Only top-shelf,” he said with a sly smile.
My heart skipped a thousand beats. I had expected Miguel to make excuses to leave after dinner. His witty response was a welcome surprise, but his willingness to stay longer gave me hope. He was offering me a chance to get to know him and show him the real me, and I wouldn’t waste a second of it.
I slowed my steps to keep from hopscotching into the house like a giddy schoolboy. “Give me three minutes, and I’ll join you by the fire pit.”