“No, no, it’s fine. It’s good. I cry at everything. Especially when I’m overwhelmed. Or drunk. Or all of the above.”
Ethan laughed. He stood back up and quickly strode into the villa, returning with a box of tissues. She accepted them, trying to pull herself together as gracefully as possible. He picked the champagne bottle back up and tilted it away from them, popping the cork.
“That’s not a bad thing, necessarily. Being in touch with your emotions. Good for an actress.”
“That’s what they tell me. Too bad I look like a sun-dried tomato when I cry.”
Ethan chuckled, pouring a generous glass of champagne and passing it to her.
“You don’t look like a sun-dried tomato.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to say that. I wasn’t trying to fish.”
He poured himself his own glass and set the bottle next to him on the concrete.
“I didn’t think you were fishing. But it’s true. You look beautiful.”
Grey blinked. Normally, hearing that wouldn’t faze her. She was confident in her appearance. She had to be, after twenty years of casting directors and wardrobe heads ruthlessly assessing her physical flaws and assets right in front of her, like she was a thoroughbred horse or a luxury car. It was either that, or allow the impossible standards of the industry to chip away at her self-esteem, one nitpick at a time, until she crumbled under the weight of her insecurities. But he said it so easily, without hesitation, as if he’d already told her a million times.
As if tonight weren’t surreal enough already.
“What should we toast to?” she asked breezily, changing the subject. They’d already toasted to her victory at dinner; it only seemed right to switch it up.
“How about to Audrey? Wouldn’t be here without her.” He tilted his glass toward her. She grinned, lifting hers in response.
“To Audrey, through whom all things are possible.”
“Amen.”
They clinked their glasses and each took a long sip. Grey gave him a sideways glance, taking in the way the light danced across his profile as he drank.
Ethan stretched out on the lounge chair, resting his forearm above his head. He’d changed out of his button-down into a faded Roxy Music T-shirt, and a flash of something shiny glinted from under the sleeve. Without thinking, she wrapped her hand around his bicep and gently angled it toward her.
“What is that?”
His eyes darted to her hand on his arm, with a half smile of amusement.
“Nicotine patch,” he said casually, moving so she could get a better look at it.
She jerked her head to look at him, eyes wide. He shrugged.
“What? Renata was right. They do work pretty well.”
Grey was speechless. Reluctantly, she released her grip on his arm.
“What are you doing?” she blurted out, the champagne loosening her tongue.
“What do you mean?”
“Why are you being so…” She struggled to find the right word. He sipped his champagne, his eyes still on her, waiting for her to finish. He wasn’t going to let her out of this one. She tried another approach.
“Since when do you care about…” Me. “…this?”
For a moment, she thought he would try to deflect, to play dumb. Instead, his face turned thoughtful, and he sat up straight. He spoke slowly and earnestly, in short, terse sentences. He’d had several drinks with dinner, too—when did he not?—and she could see how hard he was working to keep his thoughts organized.
“I don’t know. It’s not easy for me. Any of it. I’ve been living in this…in this…rut for so long. It’s hard to change. Even a little. And…and it’s scary.”
His voice cracked slightly. “I’m sorry if I haven’t made it easy for you, either. But I think…I like it. Having you around. It’s…it’s nice. It feels good. I’m not used to that. It’s been a long time.”
He paused, but didn’t seem finished yet. She didn’t move.
“I think it messes with my head sometimes,” he continued, laughing a little. “Everyone in my life right now is in it because they have to be. I pay Audrey and Lucas. Nora, we have the kids. You…well, you know. I never thought I’d be that guy.” His eyes started to glaze over, off in his own world.
“What guy?” Grey prodded gently.
“Surrounded by yes-men. No one who genuinely cares about me. There’s no one left.”
Grey shifted in her chair so she was facing him, propping her ankle up on the side of his seat.
“First of all. Do I seem like a yes-man to you?”
Ethan laughed, a genuine laugh that started deep in his chest. “No. No, that’s not quite how I’d describe you.”
“Thank you. Second of all, you are the one who’s narrowed your life down so much. You can change it at any time. Lucas is your nephew, I’m sure he would be fucking thrilled if you invited him over for dinner or, like, to watch some sports thing or something. He already knows how to work your stupid TV. Audrey and Nora have known you forever; I bet by this point they’re a little fond of you, obligations or not. And me…” She hesitated. “Yes, I signed a contract. But I had a choice. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought I’d hate being around you. I’m not that desperate.”
She thought about leaving it there, but the frankness of his confession compelled her to match him. “And…I do care about you, Ethan. Really. Sure, you make it really fucking hard sometimes, but that’s a separate issue.”
A slow smile curled at the corners of his mouth. “I care about you, too.” The words sent a thrill down her spine. He shook his head a little bit. “Look at us. Becoming friends after all.”
“Friends,” Grey echoed, trying not to let her involuntary flash of disappointment show as she drained the rest of her glass and set it on the table next to her. She removed her foot from his chair and rearranged herself so they were sitting parallel again, looking out over the pool. She closed her eyes. It seemed like the extra glass of champagne was agreeing with her, her senses pleasantly numbed. The night air was chilly, but she felt warmed from within.
It wasn’t until Ethan spoke again that she realized she’d started to doze off.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said suddenly, his words thick, sounding like they were choking him.
Grey opened her eyes, instantly alert.
“What?”
She didn’t turn to look at him, but she could see out of the corner of her eye that his hands were trembling.
“It’s what I do,” he said dully. “Everyone…” He swallowed. “Everyone I care about. Eventually.”
Ah.
She turned his words over in her mind, petrified of saying the wrong thing, the thing that would break the delicate thread of their intimacy and make him shut down again. “I think…I think the only thing you’re responsible for is yourself. This moment. Anything else…you just have to try to let go. Keep moving forward.” She felt stupid as soon as she said it, her fear of upsetting him by getting too specific leading her too far in the other direction, into the realm of banal platitudes.
Her words seemed to affect him, though. He closed his eyes and nodded, just once. Suddenly, she felt like they would both die if she didn’t touch him. Without letting herself second-guess the impulse, she leaned over and took his hand in hers. He looked down at their joined hands in surprise, then back up at her. Without breaking eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips, kissing it with devastating tenderness.
“Thank you,” he murmured, giving her hand a squeeze before releasing it.
* * *
—
“SHOULD WE DO another question and call it a night?”
Grey looked over at him.
“I had no idea you would be so into these questions,” she said, her mouth twisting into an expression of sly amusement.
He shrugged. “I like learning more about you.”