His profound, wistfully spoken words sink into me. I stare at his face with those beautiful long-lashed sad violet eyes and reality jabs me. Chances are happily ever after will never be mine.
In my emotionally fragile state, it’s difficult to hold back tears. I set my soup bowl on the coffee table and then my cell phone rings. I pick it up and check the caller ID. It’s Jeffrey. I spoke to him briefly at the hospital earlier this afternoon while Brandon was at the set and filled him in on what happened. Overseeing an extravagant wedding up in Seattle, my brother, the event planner, is likely calling to check up on me. Thank goodness, I didn’t mention his name when I told Brandon that Pops and Auntie Jo had a son. The phone rings and rings.
“Brandon, I have to take this. It’s my boyfriend calling from out of town. He’s been…think!…at some banking conference.” My charade gives me little solace.
“Jeffrey?” Brandon’s voice is as pinched as the expression on his face.
“Yes. He probably wants to know how I’m doing. I’m going to take the call in my room and then I’m going to get some rest.”
“Fine,” he huffs with resignation. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I meet Brandon’s piqued gaze and then walk away before tears betray me.
There’s only one thing I need. Him. But he’s not mine to be had.
The next day, while I’m ready and eager to go back to work to get my mind off Mama’s murderer, Brandon insists I rest up for another twenty-four hours. Boss’s orders. I can’t say no and surrender.
It’s like he’s become a whole new person. He dotes on me. Gets me more chicken soup from Greenblatt’s and checks in on me constantly. He even runs down to the newsstand on Sunset to buy me a dozen magazines so I won’t get bored while he’s studying his lines. I’m not used to the role reversal. I’ve always taken care of him, submitted to his every need. But now, he’s taking care of me. I’m loving every minute—including having him wait outside the bathroom while I shower—but know it’s not going to last. It’s only a matter of time until Katrina shows up. I’ve refrained from asking Brandon about her whereabouts. Out of sight. Out of mind.
In the afternoon, we hang out together on the couch and binge on a James Bond marathon. Brandon has every 007 movie in his home library, and we start from the first, Dr. No, and then randomly watch Brandon’s favorites.
Watching the movies with him is so much fun. We share a big bowl of popcorn—something he insists is a must. Brandon’s totally into the flicks and he’s surprisingly enlightening. Maybe my boss has lost part of his memory, but he’s a walking encyclopedia when it comes to James Bond. He shares fascinating facts with me like Sean Connery wasn’t the producers’ first choice to play the iconic spy and that Cary Grant was up for the part.
“Does James Bond inspire you?” I ask, munching on some popcorn while he puts the next film into the DVD player. The remake of Casino Royale, one of the few Bond films I’ve never seen.
Brandon returns to the couch and snuggles up against me before hitting play. “Totally. Especially when I do my action scenes. I think—what would James Bond do?”
“What about your romantic scenes with Jewel?”
He tugs on his lower lip and then sensuously feeds me a popped kernel. “Yeah, sometimes. But lately, I’ve drawn from experience.”
Katrina. My chest tightens, and I force the piece of popcorn past the lump in my throat.
“Who’s your favorite James Bond?” I ask, referring to all the actors who’ve played the part though I know the answer.
“Hands down, Sean Connery.”
“Mine too.”
We end our conversation as the movie starts—as usual with an action-packed opening sequence that takes my breath away. In no time, I realize that the latest James Bond, Daniel Craig, is a close second to Sean Connery. While he’s older, there’s something so intense and sexy about him. And there’s a vulnerability to him, too, that adds to his appeal. My breathing grows labored as I watch the sensuous shower scene between James and Vesper. It’s one of the sexiest love scenes I’ve ever seen and makes me think of the shower I took with Brandon, both of us fully clothed. I know he’s thinking about it too because I can feel heat radiating from his body. Maybe it inspired him, but I don’t ask.
Our eyes stay glued to the big-screen TV as the movie comes to its gripping climax set in Venice. My heart hammers while tears fill my eyes. I’m overwhelmed with emotion.
“Oh, no!” I gasp as Vesper, trapped in an iron-frame lift, sinks deeper and deeper into a canal while James tries desperately to free her. “Please, Brandon, I can’t watch this anymore.”
Brandon turns to me, the expression on his face full of concern. “What’s the matter?”
“I-I can’t handle the drowning,” I splutter, tears falling. “It reminds me of Mama.”