35. Alana

THIRTY-FIVE

Alana

People became more interested

in my love life than in me,

and that has a certain effect.

You start to feel very empty

and worth nothing, you start to become a piece

in a board game you never wanted to play.

~ Anna Friel

S tevens stayed in my guest room last night, though he barely slept there. We were up far past any hour that either Brigitte or my mom would approve of. When I came out of the bathroom from getting ready for the night, Stevens was in his pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, curled up with his book, wearing those glasses that drive me to a level of madness I can’t explain.

I had on loungewear. We sat on the couch together, reading our books, or trying to, but then he’d tap my toes with his. I’d let my foot rest against his leg. Eventually, we gave up trying to pretend we were going to read and pay attention to our books, and we set them aside .

I had tipped my head toward him and said, “Better than the fantasy.” He answered me by asking, “What was that?” I could tell he knew exactly what I had said, so I told him, “You heard me.” Then that adorable, late-night half-smile crept across his face and he said, “I did. I just want to hear it again.” So I tickled him, and he tackled me. And that’s how we ended up kissing on my couch.

But then we talked and talked. I made us tea. And we talked some more. About acting, about his job and his passion project, about our dreams for our futures. I can never thank Brigitte enough for this gift of undivided time with Stevens here, in LA.

We have to sneak Stevens out the back entrance of the condo this morning. Brigitte thought she saw some paps lingering out front through the cameras we have trained on the entrance. She can access the feed through her phone, and she texted me this morning. The thought that someone might catch a photo of Stevens leaving with me makes my skin crawl. They’d make this into something tawdry, defaming the sweetness and purity of what we’ve found in one another.

Miguel is waiting in the black Town Car when we come out the back door into the alley. Tank exits the front passenger door. “Miss Alana. Mister Stevens.”

Four words? Okay, then.

Stevens extends his hand to Tank. “Nice to finally officially meet you, Ken.”

Tank gives Stevens a firm handshake, if the look on Stevens’ face is any indication. The men eye one another in some weird show of testosterone I’d never expect from Stevens. Whatever is happening, it ends with Tank nodding once, as if they’ve come to an understanding.

Stevens and I get into the back seat. When I grab his hand, he winces.

“Did he hurt you?” I whisper.

“Of course not. I’m just making a show of it for your benefit.”

“You know, you could join me in this industry. I know people.”

“That’s what Ben and my mom would call a hard pass.”

I giggle. Then I catch Tank’s eyes in the rearview mirror and I’d swear he had been smiling. Of course the smile is gone by the time I look up, but I saw traces of it retreating, and I feel like that’s a bigger win than if my mom were to give me her stamp of approval.

Miguel turns onto the freeway and navigates LA traffic as we make our way to the docks in Ventura. At some point along the drive my head tilts onto Stevens’ shoulder. Our hands are intertwined on his thigh. I drift to sleep and wake to Stevens’ voice telling me we’re here. Tank already has the car door open.

Joel is sitting in the boat when we walk down the dock. It’s obvious Stevens and I are a couple. I don’t know what Brigitte has told Joel, but his wide eyes tell me she hasn’t told him a thing. He’s got an NDA on file. He won’t disclose our relationship to anyone. Knowing Brigitte, she withheld information on purpose so she could hear about Joel’s reaction later. I can’t blame her. It is pretty priceless.

“So …?” Joel points between me and Stevens.

Stevens boards the boat, drops his duffel and extends his hand to me. I take it and board the boat.

“He’s my boyfriend,” I say with a smile I can’t suppress and wouldn’t want to.

“He’s your …?” Joel’s mouth pops open. “Man. If I knew that was on the table, I would have shot my shot, Alana.”

Joel winks at me playfully.

Stevens wraps a possessive arm around my waist. “It wasn’t on the table.”

“I’m joking, man. I have no interest in Alana. But this? What happened? I leave for one week for Wisconsin and you two hook up?”

I look at Stevens, curious as to how he’ll answer.

He smiles down at me. “Exactly. That’s just what happened.” Then he places a chaste kiss on my forehead .

Joel shakes his head, but he leaves us to find our place at the stern while he walks to the helm.

“You’re not going to tell him?” I ask Stevens.

“Later. I’ll give him a little while longer to marvel at the fact that a woman like you fell for a guy like me.”

I chuckle. “It’s not that far-fetched.”

“Did you hit your head? It’s totally far-fetched. But you’re mine now, and we’re not practicing catch and release. Remember?”

“I do remember. I’m yours.” I kiss the side of his scruffy face. He didn’t bother to shave this morning, and I love him like this.

“Thank you,” I say, looking up at Stevens.

“For what?”

“For coming to LA. I’ll never forget the past two days.”

“I’ll always come for you. Don’t ever doubt that.”

I’m home in Marbella, unwinding from the days in LA. Stevens has been up north on a job. He’ll be back today.

My phone rings. It’s my mother.

“Hello, darling.”

“Mother. You sound winded.”

“I’m just …” She takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. “Doing damage control.”

“Damage control?”

“A photo leaked to the press of a man entering your property. One headline says. ‘Who Is This Man Entering Alana Graves’ Condo?’ The article goes on to say that he went in but was not seen leaving. Another article says, ‘Is There Trouble So Soon in Paradise?’ and it goes on to describe you cheating on Rex with a mystery man.”

Crud.

“What’s going on, Alana? Did you have a gentleman in your condo? ”

As if women all around LA aren’t having their boyfriends over. Why does this have to be newsworthy? We ate a meal, talked, read books together, talked some more. Slept in separate rooms. This is not news. And yet, it is.

I sigh. “You know how the press is.”

“Is there something I should know?”

I hedge. “Not that I know of.”

There’s a knock at the door. It’s Stevens. He called to ask if he could bring me lunch before his afternoon tour.

“Mom, I’ve got to go.”

“Is it that yoga instructor?”

I open the door and look Stevens right in the eyes. “Yes. It’s my yoga instructor.”

He strikes a pose on my porch. Then another. I try to hold in my laugh. He strikes another pose and I can’t.

“What’s funny, dear?”

“Nothing, Mom. I was just thinking of his costume.”

“That was not funny, darling. That was mortifying.”

“Not for you. You weren’t the one dressed like a fish among a bunch of people in tuxes and formal gowns.” I stare him in the eyes and smile. “I think he handled himself beautifully, considering.”

He bows.

“Well, I think grown men should act like grown men. But you always did have a softer heart than I do. And I love that about you, dear.”

“Thank you, Mother. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Call Caroline!” she shouts as I click the end call button.

Stevens holds out one of the two paper bags in his hand. “I brought salad—to please the diet police in your life.”

He bends down toward my porch and grabs something just outside the doorway.

“But Brigitte did tell me to get you pizza. And I need to stay in her good graces, soooo … ”

He presents the pizza box to me. “It has vegetables, if that helps.”

“It totally helps.”

“And there are cookies in here.” He holds up the other paper bag. “... which I’ll gladly take back to the watersports shack if they go against whatever strict code you follow to make sure you remain gown-ready.”

I giggle. He’s so adorable.

“I’m having a cookie,” I declare. “Just try and stop me.”

“I won’t stop you from doing anything. Have you not noticed that about me yet?”

“I have. It’s one of my favorite qualities about you.”

I step aside so he can pass by me. He grabs the pizza away from me and leads his way into my kitchen. I try not to think about my mother’s call. There’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m not telling Stevens about the rumors. There’s no need. We can’t do a thing about them. They’ll blow over. He was disguised as a delivery man. It’s just another day in the life.

I’m on my second slice of pizza when my phone rings. It’s Caroline, my publicist.