“Make yourself at home,” I tell him. “Feet on the furniture is fine as long as your shoes are off.”
He doesn’t take me up on the offer, but he does sit with his body facing me, his leg hiked up on the cushion. Gigi takes that as her cue to jump up and get settled in the crook of his leg.
“Sorry,” I say. “Let me get her down.”
“No,” he says, sliding his hand down her back. “She’s fine.”
I have to admit, she looks pretty cute there. I’m only able to resist the urge to grab my phone for about thirty seconds, then I snap a quick one and save it to my camera roll.
“So, how about you?” he asks, poking at a noodle. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
I hold up my phone and show him the pic on my home screen. “That’s my brother Beckett and his wife, Macy. And those are my parents.”
He holds onto the edge of the phone to get a good look, then digs his out of his pocket. He shows me his home screen, and I feel a little silly for getting jealous over a picture that was obviously taken with his sister. The resemblance is remarkable now that I’m able to get a good look at it.
“That’s Casey?” I ask.
He nods. “Yep.”
“What about your parents? Where are they?”
He slides the phone back in his pocket. “They passed away a while ago. It’s just me and Casey now.”
My heart deflates. I reach over and touch him, gliding my thumb across his warm skin. It feels natural to reach out and comfort him like this. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay. They died in a car accident when I was a teenager. We stayed with an aunt who was really great until I got my first big job and the checks started rolling in. It’s been just the two of us for a while now, us against the world.”
“You guys must get along really well.”
“Now we do. That took awhile.”
If I were his only sister, I don’t know how I’d feel about the kind of arrangement the two of us worked out. I’m not sure I want to know, but I feel like it’s better to find out what I’m up against if River’s going to be a part of my life for the next five months.
“What does she think about us? What we’re doing?” I say, not really sure how to phrase it.
“She really wants to meet you.”
That surprises me. “Wants to let me know she’ll kill me if I hurt you, that kind of thing?”
He laughs. “Maybe a little. But she means well.”
I nod. “I know the feeling. My dad’s retired and doesn’t really have any experience in the industry, but they moved out here with me and he’s sort of an honorary member of my management team. He makes sure I don’t get screwed over.”
“No one will look out for you like your family,” he agrees.
We make small talk while we eat. He asks me about the house, I ask him where he lives, he asks me were I’m from, then tells me a few cute stories about him and Casey when they were growing up. I find myself liking River quite a bit, which is good for the showmance, and bad for the part of me that is developing the slightest hint of a crush. He’s good-looking and sweet, loves my dog and cares about his family. It’s like a cocktail of goodness designed specifically for me.
I have to keep reminding myself that the only thing that’s real about this is the expiration date in March.
“So the premiere that we’re going to on Friday,” he says, putting his empty plate on the table, “what’s the movie called?”
My cheeks heat because the title makes the story sound a lot lamer than it actually is. “It’s called Lover’s Lane. It’s about this guy who loses everything and has to return home to live in the town he grew up in. He falls in love with the girl-next-door, who’s me. It’s a romantic comedy.”
“Yeah, I figured that,” he laughs.
“I might have to repay you for sitting though it.”
“Believe it or not, I do like rom-coms. I like a little bit of everything, honestly. I have a whole room at home dedicated to my movie collection. Casey makes fun of me for being kind of anal about it, because I have it organized by genre and sub-genre, but I figure we’re all allowed to geek out about something.”
“I geek out about lip gloss, and while I don’t have a whole room dedicated to it, I do have a whole dresser dedicated to it, which is…excessive.”
“Hey, I won’t judge.”
“So, you’re a movie buff, huh? Is that why you want to switch genres?”
He rests his elbow on the back of the couch and makes himself more comfortable. “It’s good work, don’t get me wrong. And I think there’s intrinsic value in action movies and popcorn flicks, something audiences can turn their brains off to watch. We need that, it’s just…not the most satisfying work for me personally. And I’d like to take some chances to add some longevity to my career if I can. There’s only so long I can run down Maseratis on the streets of Tokyo,” he says with a self-deprecating laugh.
“You can do that longer than I can be the leading lady. In ten years I’m going to be playing the mother of a person who’s only five years younger than me in real life, mark my words. A woman’s appeal in Hollywood has the shelf life of a banana. Not many of us have lasting desirability.”
He licks his lips and maybe I’m imagining it, but it feels like he leans imperceptibly closer. “I don’t think you have an issue with lasting desirability, Skye.” And the thing is, he
