by Lee Winter
Alex glanced at her. “Must feel good to finally be on your board.”
Sam couldn’t even begin to explain how it felt. Good didn’t even touch the sides.
Alex passed her phone back and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
Sam smiled and ran her hand through the grains of purple sand. Even though this wasn’t her first trip to the beach of her dreams, each visit felt like a win. She’d proved herself. Stared down her fears. Clawed her way out of her rut.
She felt free.
Alex rummaged around in her bag. “Here.” She passed over a glossy postcard. “To start a new collection.”
Sam stared at the image of California’s coastline.
“I thought it might be nice to collect one for everywhere we go together. Be nice to have memories of where you’ve been, not reminders of where you never got to.”
“That’s…” Sam smiled. Thoughtful. Romantic…
“I mean, you don’t have to,” Alex rushed on. “But I thought it’d be a good way to make new memories.”
“It’s a great idea.”
“Turn it over.”
Sam flipped the card and read the note in Alex’s handwriting.
Tonight, after the party, let’s go universe watching, then make love till dawn. When we wake, we’ll sit in bath robes on our hotel balcony for breakfast like some fabulous romance movie cliché, and talk about all the things that matter and all the things that don’t. I love you. You own my heart.
— Alex.
A ripple of delight went through Sam. Well, they’d been shuffling toward this, saying it in every other way but out loud. The confirmation was everything, though. Laying the card down reverently on her towel, Sam met Alex’s eyes. “That’s beautiful.”
Alex’s cheeks turned pink. Her expression searched Sam’s.
Sam leaned closer. “You know, in hindsight, I think I fell in love with you the day I watched you boss everyone around about that missing lamp.”
“You like bossy women then?” Alex said lightly, but relief and joy lit her eyes.
“In-charge, determined women who know their own minds have a certain appeal.” Sam allowed a faint smile. “Especially one in particular. You are so… God, you’re beautiful, smart, and I can’t imagine life without you. These days I wake up and I can’t wait for more. Trying more things, more interesting food, and more new places. Seeing more of the world. All of it. Everything.” Her cheeks flooded with heat, and she wondered if she’d gone too far. It was the most she’d ever revealed. Old fears and doubts rose up and clawed at her.
Alex smiled. “Well, yep. I’m down with that. All the way.” She suddenly laughed. “God, loving you makes my vocabulary dry up. I sound like an idiot.”
“Small price to pay.” Sam joined in laughing.
“No valiant denial of my idiocy?” Alex’s eyes sparkled with mirth. “Oh dear.”
Sam kissed her. “No. None. Besides, it’s mutual. I can’t even think straight around you.”
Alex leaned against the door frame, watching Bess Thornton prep nibbles to go with a delicious-smelling tasting plate ordered from the hotel’s Italian restaurant downstairs.
“Hey, love, smells divine.” Alex came to stand beside her friend, stealing a cheese cube from Bess’s intricate arrangement, and popped it in her mouth.
Bess gave her a warning look. “Stop messing with art.”
“So highly strung.” Alex chewed contentedly. “Delicious.”
“Mmm. Illicit gains always taste better.” Bess looked over Alex’s shoulder. “Where’s your cute cop?”
“Balcony. Sam wants to soak in the five-star cliff-top view before the party starts.”
Bess nodded. “So, you look happy. Don’t tell me you finally did it?” She reached for the carrots and began to artfully arrange the sticks around the cheese.
“Are you trying to get that into MOMA?” Alex peered at her creative construction. “And what have I finally done?”
“Confessed undying love to your woman.”
“You know, you don’t get to say finally like that. You only told Summer you loved her a few months ago despite it being bleedingly obvious for a year to everyone with eyeballs—including Summer.”
“Yes. Well. We’re not talking about me being…” She sought the word.
“Cautious? Slow? Oblivious?”
Bess huffed out an exaggerated sigh. “I was going to say anal. I wanted it to be absolutely perfect. I had this whole dinner planned I’d been working on for months, reconstructing a beautiful meal we’d had. But after all that I blurted it out early. Terrible impulse control.” Bess gave a wry smile. “So was I right? You did it? You told Sam?”
“Yes.” Alex beamed.
Bess smiled at her, then focused on putting a lone cherry tomato on top of her cheese construct. She stepped back and peered at it. “Too much?”
Alex snorted. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to hear the answer to.”
“I see.” Bess glanced at her. “So what happened? When you told her?”
“What do you think happened?” Alex asked.
“Well, I’d say she definitely cares. But I also gather from our chats that Sam’s not the greatest at being open about her feelings. A little…aloof usually?” Her eyes crinkled. “Goodness, Alex Levitin, I’m starting to think you have a type.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
Bess chuckled. “Anyway, given how you practically floated in here, I’d say you got an ‘I love you’ back from your woman.”
“Yes.” A wash of pleasure flooded Alex at the thought of being someone’s one. Sam’s one. “It’s…amazing” She snatched the cherry tomato and popped it in her mouth. “I’m celebrating tonight.”
“I’m really pleased. And Sam’s lovely.” Bess added a new cherry tomato to the top of her cheese pyramid, then shot Alex a dire look when Alex’s fingers inched toward it. “Of course, I have no idea how she’s coping with LA—after all, the woman practically exudes decency, goodness, and loyalty. And LA can’t easily digest any of those things.”
“I think it’s a mutual case of Sam and LA side-eying each other a lot and going, ‘what is that?’” Alex said.
Bess laughed, then shook her head. “Hell, I’m going to miss this. Us. Party nights, friends. Being around to see Sam’s movie debut. All of it.”
“You’re only gone for six months, though. While you’re doing that Campion film, right?”
“True. Still. I’m re-evaluating a few things lately.” She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Such as, I’m starting to think I might actually like LA.”
Alex straightened in shock. “Who are you, and what have you done with Elizabeth Thornton?”
“I know, I know.” Bess smiled. “I’m sure it’ll pass.”
“Yeah. It will. Now I should get Sam her drink and try to peel her anti-social bum away from the stunning views and back into the rosy bosom of humanity.”
“Thanks for that mental picture,” Bess said, lips curling. “Come back soon? I need a hand with prepping the charcuterie board. You always were a legend at meat slicing.”
“Yes, chef.” Alex grabbed a beer and a plate of snacks and headed for the balcony.
On the expansive wooden balcony outside Bess and Summer’s suite, Sam sat in a deckchair and stared out toward the ocean far below. The azure sweep of water was occasionally crested by windswept tufts of white. What was mesmerizing was the orange hue everything took on as the sun slipped over the horizon. The grassy cliff seemed to glow from underneath.
The sounds of party preparations drifted out through the wide glass doors behind her. She could make out the rhythm of Bess’s low, throaty tones and Alex’s amused higher voice, although she couldn’t hear the words. It was their time to reconnect, and she didn’t want to interrupt that
.
Alex popped out a minute later, handing her a beer and a plate of snacks. “Hey. You doing okay out here?”
“I’m fine.” Sam tried the beer. Nice. “I’ve been just trying to wrap my head around a sunset at eight-thirty in July. Of course, the seasons here are all about-face, so it’s making my brain melt a little. So now I’m just zoning out, admiring the colors.”
Alex laughed. “Right. I won’t be long. Just helping Bess in the kitchen. We learned long ago to let me operate the knives.” She turned to leave, then stopped. “Hey, please don’t stress about tonight,” she said, looking stressed enough for both of them. “The trivia thing, I mean.”
Sam chuckled, gave her a careless wave, and returned to her view. She jabbed a crunchy, low-fat, actress-friendly cracker into the beetroot-and-dill dip Alex had put in front of her and gave it a try. Not too terrible. Not as good as Gina’s, of course. She chuckled at her staunch loyalty.
The remaining two guests arrived in a wash of laughter and actual cheek kisses—proof they hadn’t been sucked into the Hollywood cult of air-kissing. Brian and Rowan burst through the French doors onto the balcony with a dramatic flourish, apparently debating the burning question of what color Pfeiffer Beach’s sand actually was.
“Mulberry,” Brian announced.
“It’s plum,” Rowan corrected, dropping to the chair beside Sam. “Definitely.” He turned to her. “Hello again, Samantha darling. Just ignore my colorblind boyfriend. Playing mad scientists appears to have gone to his head.”
She smiled, amused.
Brian dropped into the armchair on Sam’s other side. “Sam, love, you look as dashing as ever.” He glanced across her to Rowan. “Okay, it’s mulberry with a dash of sangria. Speaking of drinks…” He pitched his voice toward the kitchen. “I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety!”
Sam started at the booming voice reverberating in her ears. How does he do that? He’d give even Gina a run for her money during the pub lunch rush.
“Henry V,” Rowan noted dryly. “And what fame is this that you’re giving up?”
“Harsh.” Brian’s hand thumped across his heart. He turned to Sam. “You see what I must endure?”
Sam opened her mouth to reply, but by then Rowan was busy citing Warhol. She settled back, content to enjoy their good-natured banter and soak in the evening skies.
The sun had slipped a little farther down the red-streaked sky when Summer emerged, her blonde hair slicked back, looking as sunny as her name. She handed out dark ales to Brian and Rowan.
“I heard you two arguing before,” Summer said. “Pfeiffer Beach is plain old purple, guys. Do you always have to overthink everything?”
They glanced at each other, as though puzzled by the question.
“We’re British,” Brian finally said. “Of course we do.”
Summer snorted and shook her head.
Rowan turned back to Sam. “Enough about our nonsense. You look extra perky with sprinkles on top. What’s happening? Did Alex finally pop the question?” His bushy eyebrows gave a rakish waggle.
She wondered how to answer that. ‘None of your business’ seemed a little unfriendly to one of Alex’s oldest friends, but she’d only met the man once before. He was astonishingly perceptive, though, she had to give him that.
“Rowan, behave, you impish cad,” Brian interrupted. He turned back to Sam. “I’m sorry, he forgets you’re not from LA, where the sharing of one’s relationship status gets dished out as frequently as CVs. I’ll spare you the inquisition and just say, we both think it’s marvelous how you and Alex look so captivated lately, besotted even, and we’re delighted for you both.”
Besotted? The men were spared a good old-fashioned Kiwi eye roll when Alex reappeared, sliding into Sam’s deckchair alongside her.
“That’s enough out of you two,” Alex said. “Stop trying to make Sam squirm and tell us about your new comedy show, Rowan. What’s it called?”
Rowan virtually preened at his pet topic. “Surviving Shezan—Inside the World’s Worst Movie and Dining Out on My Director Friend’s Name.”
Alex’s mouth fell open. “Shit. Seriously?”
He snorted. “Lord, you’re easy.” He jabbed a carrot stick into the dip. “It’s called Life After Mum’s Basement—The Unemployed Years. What of you two? Anything new on the horizon?”
“I’m debating whether to do a film an up-and-coming indie writer penned for me,” Alex said. “And I do mean for me.”
“Ahhh, Hollywood’s sycophants, God love ’em. And Sam, darling?” Rowan turned to her. “What’s new from New Zealand’s finest import?”
Bess came out onto the balcony, looking her usual picture of elegance, wearing black jeans and a pale lavender blouse that whispered against her pale, long neck. Her beauty, as always, made Sam stare just a little. How did people like this exist in real life?
She turned back to Rowan. “I’m doing a small motorbike stunt in one of Brock’s films. Well, the first of a few, actually, because the movie’s part of a trilogy.”
“Oooh.” He gazed at her in awe. “So the rumors were true: Our Alex has found herself a daredevil.”
“A Batgirl, actually.” Alex grinned. “That’s what I mentally called her the day we met.”
Sam blinked. “You what?”
Alex turned to her. “You came flying out of a hole in some bushes on your black beast. So, yep, Batgirl.”
Brian leaned forward and waved between Sam and Alex. “God, you two are so adorable together. They should make collectible dolls. Did you know Summer and Bess have them now? Some fans from their old TV show are making a killing on them on Etsy.”
“Tell me you don’t have them,” Bess muttered. “People are just cashing in on the Hunter fandom.”
“Absolutely I do,” Brian said with a firm nod of satisfaction. “I have a mint pair of the two of you making heart-eyes at each other.”
“We don’t make heart-eyes.” Bess sounded weary.
“Tell that to the dolls.”
Bess cleared her throat. “Okay, deluded friends, come inside. Let’s eat, drink, and see what our collective of bard lovers think they know.”
“What is a collective of bard lovers actually called?” Rowan asked curiously.
“If it helps, a group of bards is a gallant,” Brian said.
“It is?” Summer asked. “How do you know?”
He shrugged. “I was on an internet forum for discussing group nouns one day. They were debating earnestly whether to call it a ‘bumwobble of cyclists.’ Naturally, I voted yes.”
Sam shook her head. Hanging around Alex’s mentally agile friends was like being jabbed repeatedly by a livewire. Challenging, unexpected, and confounding. They were absurd. Funny, too.
“I’m sorry we’re all nuts,” Alex murmured against her ear. “I’d say it gets better, but once you add excessive alcohol, it’s all downhill from here. Unfortunately, it only gets crazier when we toss in Shakespeare. Just be glad Amrit and Zara had to work, or you’d see a full spectrum of insanity.” Her eyes sparkled.
“They don’t seem especially insane,” Sam said.
“Winner tonight gets to kick a football off the balcony,” Brian suddenly announced from the lounge. “Don’t worry, I brought mine.”
“Oh.” Sam froze. “I see I spoke too soon.”
They headed inside just as Bess vowed to take a meat cleaver to the ball if he tried any such thing.
“Ho boy,” Alex said. “They’re in fine form already. Gird your loins.”
That evening, long after everyone had gotten drunker, louder, and funnier, long after Sam’s limited Shakespeare trivia had—very briefly—astounded the group, and long after Summer had trounced them all amid much laughter, Sam found herself staring up at the night sky.
She and Alex were wrapped around each othe
r on one of the deckchairs on the private balcony outside their own room. Below them, now invisible in the darkness, came the crash of waves, soothing and peaceful.
A few balconies along, they could hear the faint sounds of music coming from Brian and Rowan’s room, and a clink of glasses in the darkness.
In the other direction, where Bess and Summer’s suite was, lay silence. Their hosts had kicked everyone out half an hour ago. Amid knowing looks, everyone had gotten the hint and wheeled off to their various rooms.
Sam was looking forward to gathering her own lover in her arms soon. But not quite yet. Right now, Alex’s dreams came first: inspecting the universe, one star at a time.
Alex sighed with delight. “I’ve missed this. Thanks for indulging me. Not just with the stars, but with all of it. Everything.”
“It’s no hardship,” Sam said.
“Any regrets?” Alex asked after a few moments. “About coming to the States with me? Now you’ve seen my life, my world, met my mad friends?”
“No.” Sam held Alex closer. “I’m right where I want to be.”
They lay in silence, soaking up the warmth of each other’s bodies, and their closeness. Sam could feel the soft thudding of the pulse at Alex’s neck against her lips.
“Your friends are mad, though,” she added as an afterthought.
“I know.” Alex started laughing before saying, “Shush, they might hear us.”
“I’m not saying anything,” Sam murmured. “I’m just laying here, thinking about you, and how beautiful you looked tonight.”
“Good lighting.”
“Mmm. That must be it.” Sam chuckled.
Alex gave her arm a light slap.
“Hey! What was that for?”
“Pulling a con on me.” Alex’s tone contained laughter.
“Did you enjoy it?” Sam asked.
“You know that I loved it. The idea you’d go through all that for me. For my friends, too…”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam pulled her closer. “You’re worth a few hours’ research. And Summer’s pretty fun to hang out with. Besides, I wanted to see the look on your face. It was priceless. I’ve raided marijuana crops in the middle of the wop-wops and received less shocked looks from the drug lords than the one you gave me when I somehow knew that Shakespeare’s father was a cop.”