Chapter 21
Griffin
By early evening, when they parked outside Darnell’s house at Point Dume, Griffin could sense Lana wavering between hope and fear.
She’d sat quietly, wringing her pale hands, as they drove from the airport in a rental car.
They might have taken a shortcut to Cedarwood Falls, but she’d had a long day, emotionally.
Griffin pressed the gate buzzer. No response. “There’s a patio out back where Darnell likes to sit,” he said, punching in his code. “The surf can drown out the buzzer.”
“It was sold to him in the eighties as a knockdown, but he just tidied it up and repainted it—in the original green with white trim.” Griffin knocked on the door, but again, no answer. “Let’s check the beach—it’s a northeasterly, his favorite.”
They walked around to the back of the house. Below the bluff, a dozen surfers were silhouetted against the beginnings of sunset. Griffin grabbed the binoculars Darnell kept beside his grill and scanned the waves. “Nope, not there.”
“Is that strange? Whatever he’s found, it sounded important.”
“With Darnell, unpredictable is the norm. He might have paddled around the point. Let’s go to mine—he’ll call when he’s back.”
When they reached Griffin’s street, a TV camera had joined the cluster of people. Lana seemed to shrink into the passenger seat.
“It’ll pass,” he said as security ushered them through. “Always does.”
“For you, sure. But what if being papped with you once or twice is the enduring mark I leave on the world, the story my grandchildren tell? Forever the ‘refreshingly dumpy’ librarian who had a fling with a star.”
“Refreshingly smart. Refreshingly funny. Refreshingly beautiful. Just … refreshing.”
She scoffed, though he meant every word. He parked in the garage, noting that Darnell’s rental car was gone—Griffin had asked Mitch to return it and pay for the damage. He killed the engine and soaked in the backwash of silence.
How great would it be if this were normalcy?
Not the paps outside, but coming home with Lana at the end of a long day, even if they were both a little raw.
Listening to her stories of new books and customer dramas and Dewey decimal arguments.
Sharing his own stories. Now and then popping up to see her parents and eating homemade food and leaving with a box of produce.
He might not have a normal life, but he could hitch a ride on the fantasy of hers.
Like they were anywhere near a point of starting anything, let alone making a decision to continue. It was less about quitting while they were ahead and more about quitting before they got anywhere.
“Griffin?”
He realized he’d been staring into space, or at least, his father’s vintage Bimota KB2 motorcycle.
“‘Are you the new person drawn toward me?’” he quoted. “To begin with, take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose.’”
She smiled, and he wished he could live in that smile forever. “Whitman. I’m not sure you are all that different, Griffin Hart, though your life definitely is. But like the song says, we have tonight.”
She brushed her fingertips through his hair.
He leaned over and kissed her, and she responded with an urgency that suggested she too sensed their hours together were numbered.
She understandably wanted nothing to do with his life, and he couldn’t exactly slip into hers, not without upending it.
They would find Vivien—or they wouldn’t—and that would be it.
They coasted into an evening that belonged to the fantasy version of Griffin and Lana’s story.
The one where he cooked a meal from her parents’ produce, and they drank wine and talked until the sun disappeared into the ocean and the sky shifted through a palette of purple and salmon until it blackened, the city lights suspended below on a silvery magic carpet.
Only then did they slowly undress each other with their hands and their lips.
If it were a film, it’d be a montage to a sultry Lana Del Rey song, filled with longing glances from the hero—and, if he wasn’t mistaken, the heroine too.
By morning, Darnell still hadn’t called, and his phone was going straight to voicemail. On any other day that wouldn’t give Griffin a moment’s pause, but he had a bad feeling. They were planning to try Walter Shepherd again that morning. After that, he’d drive to Darnell’s.
Lana emerged from the bathroom, her hair loosely piled on her crown. She was back in her own clothes, which the housekeeper had laundered. As she looked out at the hazy morning skyline, Griffin slipped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “You’re quiet this morning,” he said.
“I’m always quiet.”
“Not this quiet.”
She inhaled, and he felt the breath fill her and release. “Can I ask you something, and can you try to be honest?”
“Uh, I guess?”
“It’s just… No, never mind.”
“You know you have to go through with this, now.”
“I don’t know how to say it without sounding like it’s self-doubt talking.”
“Is it self-doubt talking?”
“Probably.”
“Try me. I won’t judge.”
She turned, placing her palms on the front of his T-shirt. “Why are we here? Why are we doing this?”
He framed her hips with his hands. “Are you talking logistics, or attraction, or is this existential?”
She didn’t laugh. “Is this just convenience—we happen to be in the same intimate space and we’re going through some stuff, well, I am, at least, and it’s stressful, so this has happened?
Or, shit, am I being needy and whiney and letting all those headlines get into my brain, and actually I just need to go with the flow and enjoy it while it…
” She looked at the pool’s unbroken surface.
“It just seems unlikely that if you had a choice, you would choose… It’s okay, I’ll shut up now.
I can hear how this sounds. It’s this self-sabotage thing I do—even when I can see myself doing it, I’m helpless to stop it. ”
“No, no, don’t shut up. The absolute simple truth is that I’m here with you because I want to be.”
She grimaced.
“That’s not enough? Well, how about I ask you, why are you here with me?”
“Oh, come on, who wouldn’t be here with you?”
He swallowed. “Plenty of people, I would hope.”
“You hope that plenty of people wouldn’t want to be here with you?” She looked at his face, and evidently saw trouble there. “Oh crap, I’ve offended you. I didn’t mean to! I’m just saying—you have so many fans.”
“I would hope the only reason a woman would be with me is that she likes me for who I am, not what I am. I’m here with you because (a) I find you very attractive, obviously, in all kinds of ways, and (b) I think you see a different person from what other people see.
And I never would have thought I’d reach the point with a woman, so quickly, that we’re talking about this stuff. ”
She contemplated that, seemingly on the brink of being convinced. “They say humans have an innate ability to recognize someone who is genuine, within seconds of meeting them. A survival instinct. I read a—”
“—book about it?” he finished, earning a smile. He released her and walked to his book stack, picking up the Whitman. He flicked to the poem he was after. “‘Among the men and women the multitude, I perceive one picking me out by secret and divine signs.’”
“‘That one knows me,’” she finished.
“Sure,” he said, turning, “I can go out and have sex with any number of women right now, as you could with any number of men.”
“Hardly. I mean, you, sure, but me? Uh-uh.”
“It’s a fact. I believe there are apps just for that. No-strings-attached sex. Either of us could go out and sleep with a different person every day, for the rest of our lives. Finding someone to sleep with isn’t hard. Finding someone you connect with? Nearly impossible.”
“Ah, your numbers game.”
“Finding someone you can happily do both with? Wow. To answer your question, I’m here with you because I feel like we have a connection beyond any of the many surface-deep reasons we could be sleeping together. And that’s a rarity in my life.”
“Mine, too. I mean, I don’t know, maybe I am affected by your celebrity—it’s such a part of who you are. But I’m definitely affected by you.”
“I wish I’d met you before you knew who I was. Like, two weeks ago.”
“You wouldn’t have given me a chance. You didn’t give me a chance, when I tried to talk to you on set.”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t have. More fool me. But you wouldn’t have given me a chance, either, given how much you hate being the center of attention. If we hadn’t met the way we met, there’s probably no scenario in which we made it this far.”
“I wouldn’t have backed myself. If you’d walked straight up to me and asked me out, celebrity or not, I would have assumed it was a joke.” Her smile turned sad. “But I’m glad we did make it this far.”
He tossed the book on his bed and walked back to her, stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets.
“I know you already said you don’t want more than this.
” He indicated the space between them. “And you’re wise not to.
Being with me—properly, I mean—it would change your life.
And I’m aware that sounds like a line, but it’s not. ”
“It’s a warning.”
“Not to mention, relationships are near impossible when you work the stupid hours I do and you’re away all the time. I know these sound like lines, but I’m just saying, it’s not you, it’s my stupid life.”
“No, I know. We agree on that point.” She slid her arms around him, nestling her head under his chin, and he wrapped her up, and there they stood, lapsing into silence.
It felt like a breakup. A beautiful breakup, but a breakup.
Still, if they called it quits now, he could look back later with good memories.
A soft-focus interlude in a crazy action-adventure thriller in which they were chased by goons, tased, papped, mobbed, and nearly arrested.
There was a knock at the door. His first thought was Darnell, but when he opened it, his parents were standing there—both of them. They glanced at each other, as if for strength.
His mom reached out and took his hand. “Darling, it’s Darnell. He’s had an accident. It sounds bad.”