33. Stevens

THIRTY-THREE

Stevens

You had me at hello.

~ Jerry Maguire

I ’m dog sitting today. Kalaine went into labor a few hours ago and Kai went with them to the birthing center on the island. Shaka’s curled up next to me on my couch. He goes everywhere I do. If I go into the kitchen, he follows—to the bedroom, he’s there. Try to use the restroom? I’ve got a spectator. I can’t imagine Shaka ever having been a stray. He’s so attached to people. Maybe being homeless taught him to cling to us. It’s hard to say.

There’s a knock at my door. I’m not expecting anyone, and it’s far too soon for Kai to be back here. Shaka barks a few times, then he stands staring at the door with his tail wagging. Definitely not a guard dog.

I open it and Alana’s standing on my porch. She’s not Hollywood Alana right now. She’s my Alana—the Marbella Island version of herself. Her hair is down, curling around her face. Her makeup is barely there. And she’s wearing jeans shorts and a white tank top with these heels that don’t exactly match the casual vibe of the rest of her outfit.

“Um, hi.” She smiles and bats her eyelashes at me and sticks one leg out toward me, pointing her toe. “I was wondering if you—or maybe any of your neighbors—happened to know a guy who is proficient at removing sandals.”

“Hi.” I stare into her eyes like I’m looking at a mirage. “I think I know a guy. And I’m pretty sure he wants to be the only man taking sandals off your feet. So please, come in and stop this door-to-door insanity.”

“He wants to be the only one, huh?” She’s playing, but I feel the need beneath her question.

“He’s most definitely the only one. And he’s not really interested in taking on any other sandal removal jobs at the time. He’s pretty single-minded in his devotion to your sandals.”

“Is that so?” She smiles.

I pull her toward me. Shaka runs through my legs, between us and then behind Alana, rubbing against us the whole time.

“You got a dog?”

Alana’s still in my arms, but her head is pulled back so I can see her face. I bend down and kiss her. Then I brush the tip of my nose against the tip of hers and lean in so our foreheads are resting against one another.

“I did not get a dog. I’m dog sitting. Kalaine and Bodhi are in labor. Well, Kalaine is. Anyway, they’re having their baby. And Kai is with them, so I’m temporarily caring for Shaka.”

“Shaka, is it?” Alana releases me and squats low, rubbing Shaka behind the ears. “Aren’t you a cutie? Yes, you are.”

Shaka’s tail wags furiously.

Alana looks up at me. “Actually, I came to ask you if you’d consider having dinner at my place.”

“I’d love to, but …”

“No. Yeah. I get it,” she hedges.

“You get it? ”

“After what happened at the gala, you might need to take some space.”

“Alana, you apologized for that. I’m trying to put it behind us. I was going to say, ‘I’m dog sitting.’ He’s a little clingy right now. I think he senses that Kalaine’s in labor, and he’s never been over here. He’s a bit insecure right now. I don’t want to leave him here alone.”

“You could bring him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure. I want to see you. And I want to make up for that horrible introduction to my mother and Rex.”

“The scoreboard is wiped clean. We’re good,” I assure her. “That situation was as much my fault as yours. Actually, it wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Wires were crossed. We were blindsided. It’s done.”

“Okay.” She nods as if she’s accepting my explanation and is finally letting go. “I still want to have a meal with you. I may have a delivery arriving in an hour.”

“A delivery?”

“Of tacos.”

“Ahhhh … Mitzi’s?”

“Yes. I got your favorite. And chips and guacamole.”

“Well, you drive a hard bargain, Graves. Let me get Shaka on a leash and we’ll go have some tacos.”

Alana had a driver drop her off when she came over. Apparently, she was that sure she was going to talk me into coming back with her. I’m glad she feels that confident in my commitment to her. After I text Kai to ask if Shaka can come with us to Alana’s, we take my golf cart to her house, putting Shaka between us on the front bench.

The tacos arrive a half hour after we get to her home. Shaka finds a spot he likes in the front room, seeming even more comfortable here than he was at my place.

We dig into the bags and plate everything, and then we take our meals out on the porch. We’re just finishing up our dinner when Shaka comes out the sliding porch doors onto the deck with something in his mouth.

“What do you have, buddy?” I ask, standing to take whatever it is from him.

It’s a scrap of fabric, that much I can tell, but he’s got it pretty wadded up and secured in his jaws.

“Shaka, drop it,” I command in a firm voice like the one I’ve heard the Dog Whisperer use.

Alana starts laughing. She covers her mouth with her hands.

“Oh my gosh! Shaka!” she shouts through her laughter.

Alana stands up and approaches the dog. I try to corner him from behind. He darts away. Before I know it, we’re chasing the dog through the house and he’s running around couches and chairs, under coffee tables, into bedrooms and out again. When he returns to the deck, Alana and I head out after him. I shut the sliders and we corner him.

Alana approaches him with her pointer finger extended.

“Sit, Shaka.”

Surprisingly, he sits.

“Drop it!” Her voice is firm and she has her hands on her hips like she means business.

Shaka’s jaw pops open and a hot pink piece of fabric falls to the deck.

Alana scoops it up and holds it behind her back. “That was my … um … undergarments.”

“Yeah. I saw the drawer open when I chased Shaka through there.”

She looks at me and bursts out laughing. “The tabloids would have a heyday with this. I can see the headlines now! Alana Graves and A Mystery Man in Her Bedroom! Her Underwear Drawer Torn Open! It makes for some great clickbait.”

We both chuckle, even though those headlines aren’t so far-fetched.

“I like being your man of mystery,” I confess.

“I love it a little too much, I’m afraid. ”

“No such thing,” I assure her.

She disposes of Shaka’s plunder and comes back out of her bedroom. I noticed a wall of framed photos while I was in pursuit of the dog, so I pause there to take them all in. It would be normal for Alana to have photos of herself in designer gowns, accepting awards, and attending red-carpet events. Instead, this wall is full of a very mundane, and obviously curated, selection of photos from her non-Hollywood life.

One photo catches my eye and I nearly swallow my tongue.

It’s me.

But not me currently.

This photo was taken when I was eight or nine years old with a little girl I used to play with on the weekends in our favorite cove. I called her … Oh. No. What? It can’t be! I called her Saturday girl . She only came to that cove on Saturdays. And she stopped showing up the summer after I graduated from elementary school. I never saw her again. She disappeared without even saying goodbye. I think her family had a vacation home here. But most Saturdays she was at the same beach where my family went to spend a good portion of the day. Her name wasn’t Alana, though. It was Gwendolyn. Then again, I was Ren.

I study the photo. It’s definitely me. There’s no doubt. And Alana has it because the little girl is her .

I’m about five seconds away from telling her when her phone rings.

“My mother,” she mouths. And then my phone pings with a text.

Kai : It’s a boy! They named him Koa. And his middle name is Kai—after me. It means warrior and ocean. He’s destined to be a strong surfer with that name—an ocean warrior.

I smile .

Me : Congratulations .

Kai : Can I meet you back at my place to get Shaka? He needs to eat and I’m going to leave Bodhi and Kala alone for a bit and then come back tonight to take a shift. Plus, I have to clean my house. My parents are flying into LAX tomorrow. They’ll be staying with me.

Me : Sure. I’ll leave Alana’s in a minute and meet you there.

I stare at the photo again. What are the odds? It was strange enough that Alana is my SaturdayIslandGirl on the game? She’s liable to think I stalked her if I tell her about this uncanny overlap. After all we went through in LA, our relationship doesn’t need another wallop.

Maybe I should tell her, though. She might be as pleasantly blown away as I am. I stare at the photo one more time. Then I take out my cell and snap a shot of it—two children, side by side on the sand, digging a ditch together, laughing. The brown haired boy is wearing blue swim trunks with a shark motif. The girl has impossibly curly blond hair and an orange one piece on with a sunflower adorning the top.

I follow the sound of Alana’s voice into the kitchen. She’s still on the phone.

“It’s Brigitte now,” she tells me.

“I have to get going. Kai needs me to bring Shaka back. Kalaine had her baby. A boy.”

“Awww.” She turns her attention back to Brigitte. “Hey, Bridge, let me call you right back. Stevens is leaving and I need to say goodbye.”

She smiles and rolls her eyes. “No I will not. And I’m not saying that to him either.” She chuckles. “I’ll call you right back.”

She clicks the phone off and sets it on the counter.

“What did she tell you to do?”

“That’s confidential and irrelevant.”

“Oh, really? ”

I round the counter and gently poke that spot beneath her ribs, wiggling my fingertips just the slightest. She collapses into me in a fit of giggles.

“No fair!” she shouts. “Okay! Okay! She told me to give you a kiss you won’t forget, and to tell you you’re ten times hotter than Rex Fordham.”

I can’t help but grin. I’m not insecure, but the past forty-eight hours have been a blow to my usual confidence.

“And you refused her?” I ask.

“You got it out of me anyway.”

“The confession, yes. That Brigitte thinks I’m attractive.”

“I do. I think you’re attractive. She doesn’t matter.” Alana loops her arms around my neck. “She’s only encouraging me to tell you what I think.”

“Well, then?” I’m taunting her. She knows it.

Alana looks directly into my eyes. “You, my merman, are ten times hotter than Rex Fordham. And that’s a fact.”

I can feel the prickle of self-consciousness climb up my neck and color my cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” Alana asks.

“Maybe.”

She smiles and leans in to kiss me.

Then she walks me to the door. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”

“I’ve got an early morning snorkel. Otherwise, I’m free. I’ve got a few tours here and there over the next few days. Then I have a job in Marin coming up.”

“Let’s get together after your snorkel.”

“How about I make us a picnic lunch,” I offer.

“I’d love that.”

“I’ve got somewhere special I want to take you.”