“You want to move in with me?”
I was still pounding away at the keys, and wasn’t even sure what he’d just said. It took an extra minute for his words to finally sink in, and when they did, I stopped dead in my tracks. My hands went motionless and I looked up to meet his eyes. The pencil dropped out of my mouth as I asked, “What?”
“Well, that got your attention!” he said, cracking himself up.
Did he seriously just ask me if I wanted to move in with him? “Wait. Did you… what?”
He came around to my side of the desk, knelt down on the floor, and swiveled my chair to face him. He rubbed his hands against my knees and said, “I know you’re heading back next week, and I kind of figured you’d be coming back, but I wanted to officially ask you to do so.” He pulled a mini Rubik’s Cube keychain out of his pocket and dangled a silver key in front of his face. “I had this made for you.”
“Trip!” I shouldn’t have been so stunned. I mean, how did we plan on being together if I lived on the opposite side of the country? But just hearing him actually say the words, seeing the sweet, shy look on his face… my body’s response to his gesture just caught me by surprise. My heart started pounding and my eyes actually welled up as I took the keychain from his outstretched hand.
And then I kissed him.
Right there on the floor of our office.
*
Trip’s birthday was on March 15th.
He had yet another meeting with the Slap Shot crew, as they readied to start shooting in a few more weeks. I was amazed at how much time and work went into filming a movie even before the cameras started rolling. Trip informed me that it was nothing compared to the time and work that goes into a movie after. But at least his bodily presence wouldn’t be required too often during that phase until it was time to start promoting it.
His meeting was first thing in the morning, so I barely had a chance to wish him a happy birthday before he was out the door. I felt bad that the guy had to go in to the studio on his special day, but he assured me it wouldn’t take very long. It ended up working out great, though, because it gave me a few hours to throw an impromptu “party” together. The guests would only consist of his immediate family, but I figured they were the people he’d most like to spend his day with anyway.
What was interesting to me was that he had numerous acquaintances out there, but not too many close friends. He was tight with his agent, David, and he’d bonded instantaneously with Carlos, his director from Slap Shot. I saw the way he interacted with all those industry people at the Oscars, laughing and chatting and having a great time. But he wasn’t really friends with any of them. I guessed since he spent most of his time trying to avoid the limelight—and the drinking that went with it—he was kind of insulated from the social aspects of that world.
He’d been talking to Pickford pretty regularly since the wake, though, and I was glad that between his old buddy and his new pals, he at least had a small handful of people to make up his inner circle, a reliable group of friends that would make sure not to lead him astray.
I was just putting the finishing touches on the dining room table setup when Sandy arrived to help me decorate the house. She put the baby down in her bedroom, the pink-and-white space that her uncle had painted himself in anticipation of her arrival months before.
Sandy and I got to work decorating, and we really pulled out all the cheese to do so. She actually picked up some crepe streamers and balloons on her way over to the house. Sandy started in with hanging the streamers, and I took over balloon duty. But since we didn’t have a helium tank, I just blew them up and piled them all along the bar.
It was ironic that Trip had a fully-stocked bar in his home, so huge it took over an entire wall of his living room. I mean, not only was he a recovering alcoholic, but he didn’t do much entertaining. I couldn’t quite grasp why it was even under his roof, much less in the most lived-in space in the house.
I had just finished with the balloons and recovered from my lightheadedness when I decided to join Sandy with the rest of the decorating. Out of nowhere, she took a deep breath and blurted out, “I owe you an apology.”
“For what?” I asked absently, balancing on a step ladder.
Sandy rolled the leftover streamers around the spool as she slumped down onto a side chair. “For not…you know… For not trying to step in and straighten you two out all those years ago.”