He gave in, and we both laughed at her dancing with the sub sandwich. When we finally did go to sleep that night—me on my side, him behind me with boobies in hand—he said, “Grace, explain what rock-in-the-sock has to do with your breasts.”
“What?”
I’d been almost asleep.
“When you were talking earlier about your boobs drooping—what do socks have to do with it?” he asked, his chin on my shoulder.
“Picture a sock, and then drop a rock in it. What happens to the sock?” I explained, rolling my eyes a little, glad he couldn’t see my rueful smile.
He was quiet a moment, then drew his breath in quickly. “Ew, Grace, that’s awful,” he muttered, gaining a tighter hold on my still-firm boobies.
I laughed. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll keep them worthy of your devotion for a long time to come. You don’t want to know what I have to do to keep my oonie nice and tight.”
“Jesus, Grace. Enough.” He cuddled me tighter.
I laughed again, thinking back to the days when push-up bras were just for prom and Kegels were just a myth in Cosmo.
***
And here it was. Tuesday afternoon already. He didn’t want me to ride with him to the airport. He said it was silly for me to go all the way there just to turn around and have to ride back into the city.
I protested, but he won. So we waited in my apartment for his car to come, spending the last few minutes cuddled on the couch. I sat on his lap, and he had his arms around me, his head tucked into the space between my neck and shoulder. I played with his hair, and he traced circles on my back as the time ticked by.
“So, you’ll be back when you’re on the press tour, right? That isn’t so far away—only a few weeks.”
“Not too long. And then back to L.A. for the premiere, and you’ll be there for that, right?” he asked, kissing my neck and then re-snuggling.
“I already told Michael I’d need that weekend off. It’s really close to the preview dates, but it should be okay. Even if I have to fly out and back within twenty-four hours, I wouldn’t miss your big night.” I smiled, kissing the top of his head in return.
“And then I’ll be back here for your opening night, and I might even be able to stay an extra day. Holly’s coming for your show, right?”
Holly. Hmm…I hadn’t spoken to her this weekend, and there were going to be some choice words when we talked. I still was upset that she hadn’t told me about Marcia.
“Yes, she’ll be there. In fact, she even talked about coming out for Thanksgiving, since I won’t be able to make it home.”
“That’s right, Thanksgiving. You Americans sure do like your holidays, don’t you?” He smirked, nibbling at my ear.
“Yeah, you’ll have to explain Boxing Day to me sometime,” I sassed, scrunching into a little ball at the feel of his lips teasing my skin.
“Sorry, I know that tickles. I’ll behave.” He laughed, tucking me back onto his lap. We were quiet a moment, and then he said, “So I think the worst is over, don’t you?”
“The worst?” I asked.
“I mean, we went several weeks without each other, but in the next month or so we’ll see each other more often. I think we handled the separation quite well, yes?”
Sometimes I forgot just how young he was, and other times I couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried. He needed reassurance just as much as I did. This was just as tough on him as it was on me.
“Yes, I think we did great. And I do think the worst is over. Think about all the time we’ll have together when the promotional stuff is through—you can stay here as long as you want,” I said, grinning big.
“Oh, Grace, well, as soon as the premieres are over, I’m headed to London for the holidays and probably most of January. When will you be done with your show?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet. Depends on the reviews it gets. We’re closing down for the holidays, but we could be back up again right after. It’s all still up in the air.”
“Well, we don’t have to decide anything right now. It’ll all get figured out,” he said, with an air of finality.
Damn. I missed our days in L.A. together—before he was being shunted off everywhere to promote his film and when all I had to worry about was auditions and getting my freelance work turned in on time. When we could spend all the time we wanted together. We hadn’t fully realized just how much time we’d had. We’d been spoiled.
Everything happening to us professionally was amazing, but personally, I craved a drive up the coast and Fatburger like nobody’s business.
Just then his phone beeped. It was the driver waiting downstairs. I felt my throat tighten. It seemed I’d just said goodbye to him in L.A., and now I was doing it again. He reached for his bag, but before he could pick it up, I threw myself into his arms for another tight hug.
“I love you,” I said, crushing myself to him.
“Mmm, Grace, I love you too,” he replied, lifting my chin to kiss me softly on the lips.
We took the elevator down, holding hands. Actually, I had threaded my arm through his and had a firm hold on both his hands. I didn’t want to let go. When we got outside, I saw a town car waiting. I raised an eyebrow malevolently and smirked. “Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” I asked, gesturing to the backseat.
His eyes lit up, but then he smiled sadly. “No, love, you stay here. I don’t think I could handle the plane ride with a send-off like that. We’ll save it for when I come back.”
He handed his bag to the driver and opened his arms to me once again. He pulled me tightly to him, resting his head on the top of mine, his hands firmly on my hips.
“Miss me, okay? And tell those fangirls to quit grabbing your ass. I might just have to play a little grab-ass myself,” I warned, hugging him as tightly as I could. I could feel him laughing.
“You have no idea how much I will miss you, Crazy.” He sighed, pulling back to give me one last kiss.
“Call me when you land,” I called after him.
“I will, love.” He slipped into the car.
I watched it pull away, my fingers at my lips—the last place he’d kissed me. I went back up to my apartment and started to clean furiously, keeping the tears at bay. When I finally finished, it was late. I took a quick shower and climbed into bed. As I settled in, I noticed I’d missed Jack’s call while I was in shower.
I dialed voicemail and heard his sweet voice in my ear:
“Hey, Nuts Girl. Just landed and there were actually paparazzi at the airport. Can you believe that? Bizarre. Anyway, you’re probably asleep, but I miss you already. Call me in the morning? Love you. Say hi to the boobies for me. Bye.”
I flipped on the TV and Golden Girls appeared.
The tears flowed.
Chapter 7
I woke up the morning after Jack left, puffy-eyed from crying, but determined. Determined to work harder at trusting him and our relationship. Determined to focus on the amazing show I was currently part of. And determined to call Holly out on the Great Marcia Redirect, as I was now calling it in my head. Because I wasn’t dramatic at all.
No, not at all…
I had an early rehearsal, so with the time change I wasn’t able to call her until we took a midmorning break. I knew I’d catch her before she even made it into the office.
“Hey, asshead,” she answered. “How’s that fine oonie this morning? Did Jack leave you able to walk?”
I imagined her in her kitchen, still in her PJs, working her way through her first cup of coffee. She always checked the entertainment sites on her laptop while she had breakfast to make sure none of her clients had been arrested in the night—or caught without panties climbing out of a limo. That had happened several times this year alone. What was with these young starlets and their refusal to wear drawers?