Written in the Stars – Jeannie Choe #2
“No,” I answer, settling back into my seat. “I already decided I’m taking a break. I’m not going to marry Ellie and throw myself into work.”
“You know, my agent would’ve hung me by my balls if I told him I wanted to take a break when my career’s at an all-time high,” Charles comments.
“Levi knows I made up my mind.”
“How about we see what he’ll do to get you to ditch your break?”
I give Chuck a sideways scowl. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You think he’ll run the streets naked?” he muses, a laugh dancing on his lips. “Or go to work in a clown suit?”
“Or give you that brand-spanking-new Cadillac of his,” Jackson chimes in.
“He’s already letting me have my wedding at his house,” I remind them. “And it’s still not going to change my mind, so ...”
“Hey,” Charles interrupts. “Fuck him. Just enjoy your break. Go to some secluded island with Ellie and disappear from the face of the earth.”
He’s right. As much as Levi or Richard or any other studio head wants to guilt-trip me into taking on another project, I need this break.
Ellie and I both need this break. I can see how all the wedding planning and being under the microscope has taken a toll on Ellie.
Though she tries to mask it with a smile, it’s getting to her.
It’s chipping away at her confidence, making her insecure about things for no reason.
It’s why we chose Levi’s mansion to have our wedding.
We hadn’t decided on a location, worried that whatever place we chose, it would be hounded by the press as soon as they caught wind of the ceremony’s details.
When Levi offered his home, it was the perfect solution for maintaining as much privacy as possible.
While wedding planning included all the typical logistics, there are other factors that Ellie didn’t even think of.
Like keeping the location and date a secret from even her mom.
Having everyone, like the caterer and the photographer and florist, sign NDAs.
Even throwing out faux wedding details to the right outlets to send the media on a wild goose chase.
It made Ellie more worried and guarded as the wedding day neared.
I just hope all the reassurance I’ve been doing is enough.
Making sure the wedding planner we hired comes to me with any hiccups or changes instead of going to Ellie, leaning on Shana to help ward off the media when needed.
All of it was to offer Ellie some sort of comfort in the whirlwind of my life, which she’ll be legally linked to in just a week.
ELLIE
Rhylan: You’re going to be so proud of me.
Me: You met with your agent?
Rhylan: I sure did.
Me: Good job, baby.
Me: How did it go?
Rhylan: I’ll fill you in when you get home. But I think I deserve something for being such a good boy.
Me: Are you my fiancé or a new puppy that’s going to be waiting for me when I get home?
Rhylan: Depends on what kind of treat you’re going to give me later.
Me: We’ll just have to wait and see.
I smile down at my phone, sucked into the screen by Rhylan’s teasing words.
I imagine him lounging around at home, passing Levi’s calls to voicemail, working out in his new home gym.
Even taking a break to have lunch with his friends.
As much as I’m glad he’s doing things around the house to keep himself busy, the thought of him waiting for me has me anxious to hurry home.
My phone rings with a loud trill on my desk, and I’m pulled from my thoughts.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Ellie,” Amanda, the front-desk receptionist, calls from the other end. “I have a visitor here for you.”
“Who is it?”
“It’s a surprise,” she answers, her voice singsongy.
“Um, okay,” I answer nervously. I hang up and leave my office, walking to the front desk with some hesitancy. I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s not like Amanda would throw me into the clutches of someone suspicious or unsafe. It’s just my nerves, my attention always on alert.
I make it to the heavy glass doors leading to the main entrance to Poinsettia Press, the publisher I’ve been employed at for the last four years, and my face beams when I see a familiar face on the other side.
“Austin?”
Austin, my old college friend, welcomes me with a big bear hug.
Austin moved out of LA right after we graduated, settling in Seattle, where he started working for a start-up company.
His aunt, Paula, is my boss. If it weren’t for him introducing us, I’d probably be working as someone’s underpaid assistant, not the junior editor I am now.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. I squeeze his forearm, like I’m checking to see whether he’s real.
“I’m in town,” he answers. “I came to visit my aunt, and I thought I’d pop in and say hi to you too.”
“It’s so good to see you!” I exclaim. Because it’s genuinely so good to see him.
My best friend, Claire, moved to San Diego last year, and though it isn’t across the country, it’s a long enough drive that we have to plan weeks in advance for even a short lunch.
“How are you? How long are you visiting for?”
“Just until tomorrow,” he answers. “Work won’t let me take more than a few days off.”
“Aw, that’s such a short visit. Paula must be bummed that you can’t stay longer.”
He scoffs with a nod. “She’s already guilt-tripping me to visit for a three-day weekend on Labor Day.”
“Well, at least we get to see your face, even if it’s a short visit.”
“Are you busy?” he asks. “You free for lunch?”
“Of course she is!” Austin and I both turn to hear Paula’s stern voice come from out of nowhere. We both laugh at her candidness before she adds, “Go, Ellie. Take a long lunch. Expense it. My treat.”
Austin turns to face me. “Shall we?”
“Her name’s Annie. She’s in grad school right now, but graduating next spring.”
I take Austin’s phone from him, a bright image of him and a beautiful girl in a blissful embrace. They’re standing in front of the Golden Gate Bridge, their hair windswept and cheeks rosy.
“She’s beautiful,” I tell him, handing him back his phone.
He nods. “She’s great.”
We grabbed seats at a nearby pastry shop, settling for lattes and baked goods during my extended lunch break. We’ve been catching up on our lives over the past four years. Austin replaces his phone back in his pocket and shifts his attention to his croissant.
“So when’s the big day?”
My brow shoots up to my hairline, and I stay silent through a cautious sip of my steaming latte.
“I, uh, might’ve seen something about the wedding on my Google news updates.”
I nod. “Ah, and here I thought you were keeping tabs on me.”
“I may have,” he answers with a smirk. “Just curious about my friend who happened to snag one of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelors.”
I scoff, followed by an eye roll. “I swear, I feel like this is some alternate reality sometimes.”
“It has to feel surreal.”
“It sure is.” After a thoughtful pause, I finally, and somewhat reluctantly, say, “It’s next week.”
“Next week!” he practically shrieks.
“Shh!” He grimaces in apology, and we both bow our heads, leaning into the secrecy of my wedding details. “We’re ... dealing with this circus,” I tell him, my tone low and defeated. “It hasn’t been easy.”
He gives me a mournful look, as if he could somehow make things better for me through sympathetic smiles and reassuring touches.
And maybe the sudden presence of a friend who isn’t conditioned to this chaotic world of paparazzi and his entire life being transparent and exposed to the public is enough for me to release some pent-up tension.
He reaches for my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry you’re having to deal with all this.”
“It’s just ... I don’t really have anyone nearby,” I explain. “I don’t have any normal friends. I try not to tell Rhy about these things. He’s incredibly supportive, and it’s not like he’d get upset, but I don’t know. I don’t want to worry him if I don’t need to.”
“Hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m just a phone call away.”
“Thanks,” I say, looking up at him with a sad smile. “Talking about it like this helps.”
“Even if all the common folk like me can do is offer a shoulder to cry on?”
“Common folk?” I dispute with a laugh. I lean in and land a playful shove on his shoulder.
My phone buzzes on the tabletop, where I’d set it face down. I turn it over to see a text message from Rhylan. It’s then I notice the time.
“Oh, I need to get back,” I tell Austin. “I have a marketing meeting in like fifteen minutes.”
Austin starts gathering our trash and walks it over to the nearest bin.
I can’t believe we’ve been talking for over an hour.
It seems to have gone by in a flash. I’m suddenly hit in the chest with the realization of how much I’m going to miss Austin.
Simply having a friend to visit and talk with.
It feels like so long since I’ve had that.
We’re standing outside the pastry shop, exchanging reluctant goodbyes, and Austin hands me a thick business card. “My number’s on there,” he explains. “Call me anytime you want if you need to chat with a friend.”
I turn it over. “Operations coordinator. That’s impressive.”
“It’s not as fancy as it sounds.”
“Thanks,” I say, sliding it into my back pocket. I lean in to hug him, letting our embrace linger for a minute. “It was really nice seeing you.”
“You too.”
We pull apart and I squeeze his arm. “Don’t be a stranger, common folk.”
“You too, Hollywood.”
I groan, walking back toward my office. I catch one more glimpse of him, waving a goodbye before disappearing around the corner of the building.
Just as I’ve stepped into the elevator, taking me up to the fifth floor, I unlock my phone to read Rhylan’s message.
Rhylan: Are you at lunch?
Me: I’m just getting back. Sorry, I was on a work lunch today.