“You don’t have to call Beth,” said Jess, climbing next to him on the hammock and handing him a can of bug spray.
He sprayed himself quickly, then pillowed his elbow under her head as they swung back and forth. “I’m sorry I said that stupid comment about Alex shackling himself to you. He’s the luckiest bastard in the world, Jess.”
“I know,” she said in an over-confident, singsong voice that made Preston chuckle softly.
They rocked back and forth in silence as the woods chirped and hooted around them and the sun slowly set until they were alone together in the twilight. How many times had Preston and Jess rocked together in this very spot? A thousand, he’d wager. It was their favorite spot to catch up.
“I’ll be nice to Beth,” he said softly. “A deal’s a deal.”
And it was time to sign the divorce papers and send them to Donny. It was time to get back out there and start dating again. It was time to take back the heart that Elise had trampled. It was time to find someone else who might want it.
It didn’t matter that tomorrow was the second wedding anniversary of his failed marriage.
In a strange way, maybe it was almost perfect.
It was time to start living again.
Chapter 13
“Folks, we’re about to begin our descent into the greater Philadelphia area. Local time here is ten ‘till nine, and we should be at the gate, oh, just a little after the hour. Please take a moment to lift and lock your tray tables, move your seats to their full and upright position, and buckle up. We know you have choices when it comes to air travel, and we thank you for choosing United. Have a great weekend here in Philly, the city of brotherly love!”
Elise Klassan looked out the first class window. It was dark on the ground, but the city of Philadelphia sparkled like it had been painted with a fluorescent orange highlighter. She wished she could appreciate the beauty of it, but her stomach clenched a little tighter with every inch the plane descended.
It was her first time back on the east coast in almost exactly two years. It was her first time ever in Philadelphia. Swallowing over the enormous lump in her throat, she wondered what the next few days would hold and prayed, with all her might, that she was doing the right thing.
Almost two weeks ago, her west coast agent, Gene Miller, had requested a meeting with Elise to pitch a new part in an upcoming movie. She thought it would be another period piece, or maybe even a guest spot as “the rambunctious American” on Downton Abbey or Selfridge’s, but it wasn’t. Not at all. Not even close.
“Elise!” said Gene, standing from his desk to welcome her into his office with a hug. “My shining star.”
She doubted she’d ever get used to all of the disingenuous hugging and air kissing and hand holding in Hollywood. It didn’t come naturally to her, and deep down it made her terribly uncomfortable, even after two years.
“Hello, Gene,” she said, pulling away from him to push her sunglasses to the top of her head, and smooth her designer linen sheath.
He gestured to a white leather couch and she took a seat, accepting a bottle of Evian as he crossed his legs toward her.
“You look well,” he said. “All recovered from Grapes?”
“I guess,” she said. “It was a tough shoot.”
“No one ever claimed that Steinbeck was cheery…but it’s a career-maker, Elise. You know that.”
A career-maker.
According to Gene, they’d all been career-makers.
After working with Gene on The Awakening, she’d segued right into filming a biopic of Consuelo Vanderbilt, and followed it up with a supporting role in Woody Allen’s I Loathe You, Tijuana. She’d planned to take a few weeks off then, but she’d been offered the role of Rose of Sharon Joad in a re-make of The Grapes of Wrath. Unable to turn down the part, despite her exhaustion and increasing depression, Elise had accepted it and spent the ensuing six months in a simulated dust bowl on a Hollywood soundstage.
“A career-maker,” she repeated tonelessly.
“What’s the matter, princess? You seem down.”
She was down. After four projects and twenty-four months in L.A., she was so very lonely and so terribly tired.
“I think I need to take a break,” she said softly, knowing that Gene would be upset by her reticence to take another part right away. She didn’t want to upset Gene—he’d been very good to her. But unsupported and alone in the vast plastic pressure-cooker of L.A., her almighty ambition was running on fumes, and she just didn’t have the energy to jump back into another project.
“A break? No, no, no, Elise! The iron’s hot! Red hot! White hot! We have to keep striking, darling!”