41. Graham
GRAHAM
NOW
“When was the last time we had a poolside chat?”
My lips curve upward at the sweet voice coming from behind me.
Tatum and I haven’t been in California at the same time in well over a year, though the circumstances of her sudden return are complicated and heartbreaking.
She’s on the outs with Jake, but I’m selfishly happy to see her in our natural habitat.
“It’s been a while. We’ve been busy trying to hold our lives together,” I say.
Settling next to me, she sticks her bare legs in the heated pool with mine. “Were you doing yoga?”
I glance down to confirm I’m wearing underwear, then shake my head. “Couldn’t get in the right mind space.”
She leans back on her hands and sighs, tipping her face to the sun. Her long braid snakes down the front of her sweatshirt, reaching the zipper of her cutoff denim shorts. “It’s a beautiful morning. I wish we could go to the beach.”
“We need to lie low after what happened in San Antonio.”
Remorse dulls her blue eyes. “Jake blamed himself because it was his idea, but I knew better. I’m the queen of bad decisions lately.”
I recall what Miguel said about Tatum knowing the risks.
His reactions to certain situations in the past make more sense now that I’m aware of his fears.
I regret not pressing harder to get him to talk whenever he’d shut down on me.
My light approach to offering him support in the past backfired, big time.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” I say. “We’ve all made mistakes, and Jake understands the rules now, even if he had to learn them the hard way.”
Her feet glide through the water, creating ripples on the surface. “Is love a mistake? Because it shouldn’t be this freaking hard. If the fates decide who we fall for, they could at least give us a clue about how to keep our soulmates happy.”
I look at the photo I’ve been staring at all morning.
When I met Miguel, the fates gave me more than a clue.
They handed me the keys to his happiness: quiet moments and quality time.
He never asked for more than sitting around and talking, enjoying each other’s company.
Neither of us need thrilling adventures or star-studded galas to enrich our lives.
Simply being in each other’s presence has always been enough.
As Tatum leans in, her lavender lotion overpowers the smell of chlorine. “Is that a park?”
“This is where we met.” I tilt the phone to give her a better view of the image. “It’s silly, but last year, I’d go there early in the mornings and lie on the grass, like reliving that day all over again.”
The part I won’t admit is how I imagined Miguel showing up one of those mornings looking for me, but he never did. So, I gave movie updates to the sunrise and laughed into the ocean’s void as I recalled the memories we made.
Tatum’s hand glides up and down my back, her touch firm and welcome. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me most. The past year has been rough, but that’s no excuse for neglecting my best friend duties.”
“You have no reason to apologize. We don’t get to choose the time and place of our disasters.”
She hums, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Her personal setbacks outnumber mine by a lot, yet she smiles and carries on as best she can. People assume she’s delicate because of her gentle nature and optimism, but underneath, she carries grit and strength one only earns through heavy loss.
“Do you think we love too deeply?” she asks.
“Yes, and we mate for life.” I bump her shoulder with mine. “Even with our friends.”
A melodic giggle trickles out of her before ending on a loud sigh.
“What should we do now? I’m open to marrying each other for real and having a platonic happy ever after.
Of course, Maisy wouldn’t love the idea.
She already complains about ‘double the diva’ when we’re all in the same room for five minutes. ”
Raising my head, I squint toward the canyon. Earlier, as the sun was rising, a bird soared over the hills, happy and free. It’s gone, but the envy I felt while watching it remains.
“Now, we wait. They say good things come to those who fall in love with stubborn people…or something like that.”
“Look at us, hopelessly drawn to runaway hearts.” She gasps and pats down her pockets and boobs. “I don’t have my phone on me. Hurry! Write that down!”
Laughing, I hand her mine. She opens the notes app and types in a frenzy.
And keeps going and going and going. I lie back on the decking with my hands behind my head, staring at the blue sky while she writes another award-worthy hit.
The singer may retire from the stage, but the songwriter will never cease to make music.
It’s the same with acting. I haven’t stood in front of a camera in the past year, but I’m still putting on a show, even for my friends.
When they look at me, they see the man I want them to see, the old Graham who operated on ambition and positive vibes.
They don’t know the man who’s willing to walk away from film entirely in exchange for a quiet life with Miguel.
“Could you picture yourself building a life in a place like Walford?” I ask.
Tatum stops typing and, like me, looks to the sky. “Yes, but only if it’s with Jake. A life with him is all I’ve ever wanted.”
My eyes close as the warm sunshine caresses my face. “I’d like to take Miguel there. I think he’d love it.”
“But would you? What about movies and Hollywood?”
With a thoughtful hum, I smile. “I’m also thinking…it’s time to break up with Hollywood.”
Friday, March 10th
Miguel shivers on my front porch, shoulders locked up and hands fisted at his sides. The left side of his shorts and T-shirt are sopping wet, and he’s covered in sand.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Life.” His sneakers squeak as he toes them off, leaving him barefoot. “I wasn’t sure you’d be home. Guess I could’ve called first.”
Uncertain what to do, I prop a shoulder on the door frame and grab the back of my neck.
As a precaution, I’ve kept my travel arrangements to myself.
Until he decides whether we can be together, I won’t risk scaring him off.
While the friendly nature of our texts has been excruciating, they’re better than silence.
“I had some business to take care of here, but I’m headed back to Texas tomorrow.”
“Oh.” He raises an arm to wipe his sniffling nose but notices the sand on his skin and aborts. “I found one.”
“Found what?” I ask, crossing the threshold.
“My princess shell. I figured you must’ve forgotten, so I met up with some sporty old ladies who made me climb rocks. I fell and cut my leg—bled for you—and there’s sand in my underwear. It’s not the exact same as the one you showed me in Costa Rica, but it’s close enough. Same colors—”
“Miguel.” My gentle tone ends his rambling.
Tears carve paths down his cheeks as he lifts a shaky hand and opens his fist. Pieces of a seashell rest in his palm.
“It’s broken,” he chokes. “I sat on it, and I have no clue how to fix this, Graham. All I know is that I’m failing us again.”
His pleading eyes imprison mine, and that silent cry for help is all it takes for me to move. In a blink, he’s in my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He smells like sweat and saltwater. Grains of sand stick to my lips when I press them to his hair.
“I’ve got you.”
His arms circle my waist and squeeze so tight it hurts, but the pain isn’t the physical kind. “If I can’t keep a seashell alive, what chance do I have of becoming a partner you’re proud of?”
“Darling, I’ve always been proud of you. My biggest regret is not realizing you weren’t proud of yourself.”
He buries his face in my neck, shoulders quaking. “I’m so sorry, baby. I really am.”
Our home full of memories bears witness as Miguel lays his troubles at my feet, one racking sob at a time. I gather those worries and store them in my heart for safekeeping. They’re as precious as him, and I vow to never dismiss them as anything other than valid and real.
Once his sobs fade to sniffles, I put an arm around him and guide him inside the house.
On autopilot, he drifts upstairs toward the balcony, tracking sand along the way.
He collapses onto his favorite loveseat, and I start the fire pit to get him warm.
Although he may not need warmth. The evening air is cool, but his burned cheeks indicate he’s been baking in the sun for hours.
“Have you eaten today?” I ask.
The small shake of his head kicks me into action. Rushing to the kitchen, I pour a glass of water and throw a sandwich together, keeping an eye on him through the window. Slumped forward with his head in his hands, he’s a mess, worse off than I’ve ever seen him.
I grab a blanket from the living room and haul my care package outside. He lets me wrap the blanket around him, but the pitiful dinner ends up on a side table, neglected. Claiming the chair closest to him, I’m on the edge of my seat while giving him space.
A stretch of time passes before he releases the grasp on his short hair and looks at me through bleary, bloodshot eyes. “I never asked what it was like for you after I left.”
“Hell.” My chuckle sounds broken and jagged, like the shell clenched in his fist. “I was confused, alone. Tate and Maisy were on tour, and I didn’t want to bother them because they had their own problems to deal with.”
I pry his hand open and dust his palm, letting the shell fragments fall to the braided rug.
“Movies played on a constant loop. When it was silent, all I could see were your taillights. I rewrote the scene in my head, over and over, thinking if I had one more take, the night would’ve end differently.
You wouldn’t have abandoned me the way you did. ”
Fresh tears trail down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I know my apologies aren’t worth much, not after all the pain I’ve caused you. I panicked and ran when I should’ve opened up. What’s worse, I let you and everyone else believe you were to blame. Even if you forgive me, our friends never will.”
“We won’t tell them. What happens between us is none of their business.”
He shakes his head, adamant. “I’m not asking you to lie for me. They also deserve the truth someday.”
“Then, what are you asking? Why are you here?”
When he scoots to the edge of the loveseat, our knees slot together. “Because I’m on the verge of making the same mistake twice. I can’t handle this alone. It didn’t work the first time around, and it won’t work now. I need your help.”
Every stiff muscle in my body relaxes. It costs Miguel a good chunk of his pride to ask for help, and he’s looking me in the eye while doing so. This rare moment of vulnerability is a gift, and my heart swells with more love for him, if that’s even possible.
I join him on the loveseat and pull his legs onto my lap.
It defies all logic, but with any of his weight on me, I can breathe better.
“Of everything, do you know what hurt me the most? Cut the deepest? Realizing you didn’t think you could tell me things without judgment or consequences. I’m not him, Miguel.”
“Baby, you could never be like him. I’ve known that since the day we met, but I didn’t trust myself enough to fully believe it.
” Miguel leans forward and captures my head in his hands, his voice raw and fierce, determined.
“I’m done letting my past take anything from us—from you.
I want my life back. I want the future we dreamed of.
What’s coming for us won’t be easy, and it will get ugly.
The only way I’ll make it through the worst of it is with your support. ”
My fingertips graze his right leg, the motion soothing for us both as I wipe off the sand. “I’ll give you whatever support you need. Just ask. But please, please never shut me out again.”
“Never,” he says.
God, I want to kiss him and feel those tender lips on mine, but we’re not done with practical matters. “Where do we go from here?” I ask, staring at his mouth.
“Forward, if you’ll have me.”
“And what does forward look like?”
“Like the past but different. Better.” His heavy sigh and drooping posture contradict his optimism. “Could we wait a little longer to come out? I know I’m asking for a lot, after everything, but I’m seeing a therapist.”
“That’s…”
Words elude me. Not only did he ask for my help, a significant step in itself, but he’s also seeking professional help? I’m flabbergasted and so fucking proud.
Dusting off his other leg, I say, “Maybe we can go together sometime. I could use some advice on how to be more patient and self-aware.”
Our year apart was agonizing, but I’m glad I didn’t chase Miguel down sooner. Without the film production forcing me to spend time in another state, I would’ve been insufferably persistent and risked losing him for good.
He grimaces and squirms. “Can we talk about couples therapy later? Seriously, Graham, there’s an entire beach in my underwear.”
I move his legs off my lap and kill the flame in the fire pit before extending a hand. “Let me take care of you?”
Giving me a watery, relieved smile, he slides his palm against mine. “Hell yes.”