They both laughed. Ben was weirdly grateful for the traffic on 101; it meant this trip would last at least thirty more minutes. He was hungry and had almost suggested they stop for dinner, but that seemed too dangerous for Anna, especially since they’d gotten lucky when they’d stopped for food around midafternoon. No one had even glanced in her direction.
But he knew as soon as they drove up to her hotel, this was all over.
He held back a sigh and kept driving.
They were both quiet as they drove through San Francisco on the way to her hotel. It had been almost exactly twenty-four hours since they’d left the city, but it seemed like so much had happened in that time.
All too soon, Ben drove up the circular driveway to Anna’s hotel.
“Well, we made it back,” he said, and shook his head at himself. What did that even mean? Why was he even talking?
“We did,” Anna said. A bellman opened her car door, and she nodded her thanks to him, then turned back to Ben.
“Thank you. For . . . well. For everything.” She smiled at him, a small, quiet, private smile. He smiled back at her.
“You’re welcome. It was my pleasure.” He wanted to reach for her, but he didn’t. “Now, get yourself some sleep; you must be exhausted.”
She picked up her tote bag and laughed.
“I was just about to say the same to you.” She got out of the car and waved at him. He wanted to get out, too, to say good-bye, to give her a hug, something, but he knew he couldn’t hug her, and it felt like getting out of the car would just draw more attention to them, so instead he just waved.
“See you soon,” he said.
She nodded quickly.
“Yeah. See you soon.” She took her big movie-star sunglasses out of her bag and slid them on. She turned toward the hotel and walked up the stairs and through the revolving door. She didn’t look back.
Ben thought about calling his brother on his way home, but as much as he couldn’t wait to tell this story, he somehow didn’t feel ready to start. He suddenly felt bone tired, the kind of tired that comes from two seven-plus-hour drives in two days and a very interrupted night of sleep in between.
He glanced at his phone when he walked into his apartment and was surprised by the rush of disappointment he felt when he didn’t have a message from Anna. Why would she have texted him, anyway? He’d just seen her; they’d been together, almost nonstop, for more than twenty-four hours. He rolled his eyes at himself and scrolled through his texts from his brother, from Maddie, from a date from a few weeks back, from a high school friend, then dropped his phone on his nightstand and got in the shower.
After his shower, he collapsed on his bed and flipped through the delivery apps on his phone to try to decide what to have for dinner.
He woke up hours later, phone still in his hand, and squinted at the text on the screen.
Someone took a picture of me in the hotel lobby here and put it on their Instagram. The dress looked great—nice job.
He grinned. He owed Maddie big.
Oh ye of little faith. Didn’t I say you could count on me?
Still smiling, he turned over and went back to sleep.
Nine
On Saturday morning, Anna ended the call with Simon with a big smile on her face. She immediately called Penny.
“Do I have a story for you,” she said as Penny answered the phone.
Penny almost purred.
“Oh, thank God. Yesterday was a deeply irritating day, and I woke up grumpy about the entitled tourists who bugged the hell out of me. I would much rather hear your story than give those assholes any more real estate in my brain. Talk to Penny.”
Anna poured herself some room service coffee as she thought about where to start.
“Well . . . okay, so I did something kind of ridiculous and unnecessary Thursday. I should probably start there.”
“Whaaaat did you do?”
Anna could picture the gleeful smile on Penny’s face.
“First off—everything is okay. I want you to know that so you don’t worry. But Chris called because Dad was in the hospital in Palm Springs—my all-too-stressful parents were in Joshua Tree and my dad collapsed. Don’t worry, he’s fine, it was just heat exhaustion, but I didn’t know that then.”
Penny sighed.
“Thank you for starting off this story by saying everything’s okay. Let me guess, you chartered a plane and flew to Palm Springs, and your mom lost it, right?”
Anna laughed.
“You know me—and my mom—very well, but weirdly, you’re wrong this time. So you remember how I told you about that guy Ben? The ad guy?”
“You mean the backup dancer? Of course I remember, but . . .”
“He drove me,” Anna said. “To Palm Springs.”
“He what???” Anna almost laughed out loud at the sound in Penny’s voice. “From San Francisco? Did you forget about the existence of airplanes? Why, exactly—”
“And then I slept with him,” Anna continued.
“Yessssssss.” Penny let out a cackle, and Anna laughed along with her. “Okay, I’m angry at you that you didn’t lead with that, but wait, now I’ve gotten over being angry and am only thrilled. Tell me all the good stuff, but first tell me that your dad is really okay?”
This was why she loved Penny. Anger and joy and concern about her family, all at once.
“He’s fine—well, maybe not fine, but okay. We got to the hospital just as my parents were leaving; they said he was just dehydrated. And the reason I didn’t fly is the boring part of this story. But I was already in the car with Ben, and he offered to drive, and I was . . . just so worried and anxious about my dad and I couldn’t really think straight, so I said okay.”
Penny knew how her mind worked. Anna knew she didn’t have to say more.
“Anyway, after Ben and I left the hospital, we got to a hotel, and . . .” She grinned. “I basically jumped him. I was so relieved and happy and my God, so wildly horny, and he was so hot, and I have to say, I’d forgotten this, but . . . sex is pretty fantastic, Penny.”
Penny chuckled again.
“It certainly is. There’s the Anna I know and love. And I’m so glad you broke your dry spell with someone worthy of you. Are you going to keep sleeping with him?”
Anna sighed. That would be nice, but . . .
“Oh no, I can’t. It was great, he was great, don’t get me wrong.” She thought back to that last time, right before they left Palm Springs. “Really great. But, that was just a fun, dry-spell-breaking little interlude—like you said, I’m ready for the old Anna to be back. And now she is, and I can move on.” She laughed. “And listen to this! It must have been my good-luck charm, because Simon just called: it turns out they do want me to do a bunch of press for Vigilantes, so I’ll be doing a ton of that as soon as I get back to L.A. No guarantees, but I hope like hell this means something good for what my role turns out to be in the movie.”
“Seriously?” Penny said. “That’s fantastic! I know how worried you’ve been about this. Your good-luck charm, indeed.”
Anna grinned and leaned back in bed.
“I know, right? I can’t believe it. Everything’s turning up Anna: I have a whole plan now for what this summer is going to be like. I’m going to do the press junket for Vigilantes, strategize with Simon so I get that role I’m dying for, get some magazine covers, have fun with men again, all of that.”
“Hmmm.” Why didn’t Penny sound excited for her plan? “That all sounds excellent, and I’m thrilled about Renegades, obviously, but—”
“Vigilantes,” Anna said.
“That’s what I meant,” Penny said. “Anyway—you’re still in San Francisco, right?”
Anna could already tell where she was going with this.
“Yes, for another week or so, but—”
“And you’re currently in bed alone? I mean, I imagine you’re alone; I don’t think you’d be telling me all of this with him there next to you in your bed.”
Anna sighed.
“Yes, I’m in bed alone, but I couldn’t bring him back to my room! And I know what you’re going to say, but no, I can’t keep this going—we’re working together! That would be far too complicated and dangerous. And plus—okay, so I told him about everything that happened last year.” Penny tried to jump in, but Anna kept talking. “It’s a long story, I told him sort of accidentally. And he was lovely about it, he said all the right stuff. But I don’t want to see him make that face. You know that face. The patient, gentle, condescending face people make when they think they have to tiptoe around you. I want to remember everything with him as this good, happy thing and not have it be ruined.”
There was more to it than that, but she didn’t know how to explain it to Penny. She already sort of regretted telling Ben everything, letting him know too much about her, letting him see past the Anna Gardiner public persona. She worried that if she kept this going, even for the next week, she’d reveal far too much of herself to this man who had looked at her in bed like she was the sun and the moon and the stars all together. She didn’t want to have to see that look change.
“Anyway,” she said to Penny, “as great as it was, it can’t happen again.” Oh shit. “I meant to tell him that we couldn’t do this again. On the drive back north yesterday. But I got distracted; I forgot. Damn it.”
“Look,” Penny said. “All I’m saying is that I haven’t heard that lusty sound in your voice in over a year, and none of what you just told me is enough of a reason to not just keep this going until you have to go back to L.A. Wait. Unless he was an asshole. Was he an asshole?”
Penny immediately sounded mad at just the prospect of Ben being an asshole. This was another reason why Anna loved her.
“He was very much not an asshole. The opposite of an asshole, really. But that doesn’t mean—”
“Blah blah blah,” Penny said. “I know I know, you have a plan, you always have a plan. And yes, fine, often your plans make a great deal of sense.”
“You mean always my plans make a great deal of sense, and that often they are successful. Remember my Oscar-nomination plan?”
Anna could almost see Penny purse her lips.
“You’re going to bring that up for the rest of our lives to win every argument, aren’t you? Okay, fine. I’m not getting off the phone because I can’t come up with a reason I’m right. I’m just getting off the phone because I should have left for the winery ten minutes ago, but we’ll talk later!”
Anna laughed as she hung up the phone. It had been great—even more great than she’d thought it would be—to tell Penny about her night with Ben and hear her squeal in joy. She’d forgotten how fun that was.
When had she made the decision to have sex with him? she wondered. Had she known by the time they’d walked into the hotel room? Mmm, probably; she’d seen both beds when they’d walked in and had been pretty certain one of them would be empty that night. Did she decide when Niamh had asked them if one room was okay? Maybe. When he’d saved her from the photo at In-N-Out? No, probably not by then, but that had definitely played a role.
Whenever it was, she was glad it had happened. But she still had to send this text.
Hey—I meant to say this on the drive home yesterday, but I got distracted by everything else. Thanks, so much, for everything—I can’t tell you how much I appreciated it. But what happened in Palm Springs can’t happen again, for so many reasons. I hope you got some sleep last night, and I’ll see you on set Monday.
There. That was done. That didn’t sound too cold, did it? She hoped not.
* * *
—
Ben woke up to the sound of his phone ringing. He ignored it until it stopped, but then it started again. Finally, he rolled over and picked it up. Theo. Of course.
“Hello?”
“Oh, he finally answers the phone!”
Ben got up. He needed coffee for this conversation.
He squinted at the clock on his coffeemaker: 9:30 a.m. He’d slept for more than twelve hours, and he felt like he could still sleep a little more.
“It’s not that late, you know,” he said to his brother. “You should be flattered I even answered the phone.”
He could hear Theo take a long gulp of his own coffee. Probably his third cup of the day. The asshole had a girlfriend; he probably didn’t even have to make his own coffee like Ben was doing right now.
Ben stopped himself. No. Theo would never let someone else make his coffee.
“You knew I would keep calling forever until you answered,” Theo said. “And with good reason, because you sent me some unhinged text I didn’t quite believe about going on a road trip with a celebrity and then you called Maddie for advice on buying clothes for said celebrity, and you sure as hell had better tell me everything that happened in between those two things. Where are you? I assume you’re alone, since you answered the phone and didn’t just turn it off.”
Ben sniffed the milk he’d pulled out of the fridge while Theo talked. Damn it. How had it gone bad in just two days?
“Home, and yes, unfortunately alone,” he told his brother. He opened his freezer and pulled out a carton of chocolate ice cream. “We got back last night. Wait, let me pour some coffee, I’m still out of it.”
He plopped a spoonful of ice cream in his mug and filled it up with coffee.
“Okay.” He took a sip. “Where were we?”
“You are such an asshole,” Theo said.
Ben laughed.
“I know, I know. Okay, the short version of the story is— Wait, first, you have to swear not to tell anyone any of this.”
Not that he thought his brother would anyway, but he had to make it clear, for Anna’s sake.
“Maddie already told me that part—yes, yes, we both promise.”
Ben sat down on his couch and took another gulp of coffee. He should put chocolate ice cream in it all the time.
“Okay. So. I drove Anna to Palm Springs because her dad was in the hospital there—he’s fine, but she was really worried about him, and there were no more flights for the day. That was Thursday evening. Yesterday we drove back, but since we left in a hurry on Thursday, she didn’t have a change of clothes. That’s why I needed Maddie. She came through, by the way.”
“Of course she did,” Theo said impatiently. “And?”
Ben grinned. He loved messing with his brother like this.
“Annnd, in between leaving and coming back, I managed to get myself trapped in a hotel room for a night with her, and holy shit, Theo. A gentleman never tells, but I’ve got to say, she’s fucking fantastic. No pun intended.”
“You owe me dinner!” Theo shouted in a muffled voice. When he came back to the phone, he sounded triumphant. “I told Maddie, but she didn’t believe me! She may know celebrities, but I know my brother.”
Ben felt weirdly touched that Theo had that much faith in him. But also . . .
“But really don’t tell anyone any of this, okay? I’m only telling you, that’s all. I didn’t even . . . She and I had flirted from the beginning, but she’s working with me, and you know how I feel about that, so I was sure it wouldn’t go anywhere. Plus, she’s . . . who she is.”
That sounded silly as soon as he’d said it, but Theo got it.
“Yeah. Do you think you’re going to see her again? I mean, other than on set.”
He had no fucking idea.
“I sure as hell hope so, but who knows. But no matter what, I got a great story out of this that I’ll never be able to tell anyone but you and my therapist.”
He poured himself another cup of coffee when he got off the phone with Theo, and then checked his phone to see what had come in during his
drive on Friday that he’d ignored.
He had many texts, but only one that mattered. Anna’s.
Well, fuck. He’d expected this, of course he had, but when she hadn’t said anything in the car yesterday, and when she’d sent that text about the dress the night before, he’d . . . hoped. Oh well.
It was my pleasure — all of it. No worries, see you Monday
What other disappointing messages did he have that he’d have to send cheerful, breezy responses to?
Thankfully, no one at work had seemed to realize that his version of “working from home” the day before had been checking email once every two hours or so at gas stations along Interstate 5.
He didn’t have another email from Dawn, which he realized was the thing he’d been dreading. He still hadn’t told Theo about her. Shit, he had to do that. He clicked back to the last email Dawn had sent and looked at the picture again.
It creeped Ben out, how much he looked like his dad. Mostly because he’d always worried that he’d be like him, too. That fear had been what had driven him into therapy, that his love for women meant he was destined to also abandon his wife and kids, just like his dad had done. Lately, his therapist kept telling him that he didn’t need to go so far in the other direction and never get close enough to someone to make marriage and kids an issue, but that’s not what he was doing. He just hadn’t found the right person, that’s all.
He suddenly felt bad that he hadn’t even replied to this email. He didn’t have to be that asshole.
To: Dawn Stephens
From: Ben Stephens
Re: Just checking in
Hey—I don’t have any pictures of him and me as a kid handy, but yeah, that’s my dad. This is weird, but I look a lot like him, if you had any doubt, here’s a picture of me now. Anyway, I guess that DNA test must have been accurate. Sorry we both lost the dad lottery, but despite him, you seem to be doing pretty great. Congratulations on grad school, that’s awesome.
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