“I can’t think of anything more erotic than that,” he said. “Than being each other’s inspiration.” He leaned in close to me. I could feel the heat of him on my skin. “And I can think of nothing more meaningful than the way we understand each other. You should leave Harry. He will be fine. No one knows what he is, and even if they do, no one’s talking. He doesn’t need you to protect him anymore. I need you, Evelyn. I need you so badly,” he whispered into my ear. The heat of his breath, the way his stubble scratched my cheek, awakened me.
I grabbed him. I kissed him. I pulled my shirt off. I tore his. I unfastened the belt of his pants, flinging the buckle. I ripped apart the button fly of my jeans. I pushed myself against him.
The way he grabbed me back, the way he moved, made it clear he was yearning for me, that he couldn’t believe his luck to be touching me. When I pulled off the straps of my bra and exposed my breasts, he looked me in the eye and then placed his hands on my chest as if he’d unlocked a hidden treasure.
It felt so good. To be touched like that. To set free my desire. He lay down on the couch, and I sat on top of him, moving the way I wanted to, taking what I needed from him, feeling pleasure for the first time in years.
It felt like water in the desert.
When it was over, I didn’t want to be apart from him. I wanted to never leave his side.
“You’d be a stepfather,” I said. “Do you get that?”
“I love Connor,” Max said. “I love children. So to me, that is a benefit.”
“And Harry will always be around. He will never go away. He’s a constant.”
“He does not bother me. I’ve always liked Harry.”
“I’d want to stay in my house,” I said. “Not here. I won’t uproot Connor.”
“Fine,” he said.
I was quiet. I didn’t know exactly what I wanted. Except that I wanted more of him. I wanted the experience of him again. I kissed him. I moaned. I eased him on top of me. I closed my eyes, and for the first time in years, when I closed them, I did not see Celia.
“Yes,” I said as he made love to me. “I’ll marry you.”
Disappointing Max Girard
Now This
June 11, 1982
EVELYN HUGO DIVORCES HARRY CAMERON, TO MARRY DIRECTOR MAX GIRARD
Evelyn Hugo is the marrying kind! After 15 years of marriage, she and producer Harry Cameron are going their separate ways. The two have just come off a winning streak, both taking home Oscar gold earlier this year for their film All for Us.
But sources claim Evelyn and Harry have been separated for some time. Their marriage turned into little more than a friendship within the past few years. Some are claiming that Harry has been living in the home of their late friend John Braverman, just down the street from Evelyn.
Meanwhile, Evelyn must have used that time to warm up to Max Girard, her director on All for Us. The two have announced plans to marry. Only time will tell if Max is the lucky ticket to happiness for Evelyn. But what we do know is that he will be husband number six.
MAX AND I GOT MARRIED in Joshua Tree, with Connor, Harry, and Max’s brother, Luc. Max had originally suggested Saint-Tropez or Barcelona for our wedding and honeymoon. But both of us had just finished movies shooting in Los Angeles, and I thought it sounded nice, just a small group of us in the desert.
I dispensed with white, having long ago stopped feigning innocence. Instead, I wore an ocean-blue maxi dress, my blond hair feathered ever so slightly. I was forty-four.
Connor wore a flower in her hair. Harry stood next to her in dress pants and a button-down.
Max, my groom, wore white linen. We joked that it was his first wedding, so he should be the one to wear white.
That evening, Harry and Connor flew back to New York. Luc flew back to his home in Lyon. Max and I stayed in a cabin, a rare night alone.
We made love on the bed, on the desk, and, in the middle of the night, on the porch underneath the stars.
In the morning, we ate grapefruit and played cards. We flipped channels on the television. We laughed. We talked about movies we loved, movies we’d shot, movies we wanted to make.
Max said he had an idea for an action movie starring me. I told him I wasn’t sure I was fit to be an action hero.
“I’m in my forties, Max,” I said. We were walking in the desert, the sun beating down on us. I had forgotten the water in the cabin.
“You are ageless,” he said to me, kicking up sand as we went. “You can do anything. You are Evelyn Hugo.”
“I’m Evelyn,” I told him. I stopped in place. I grabbed his hand. “You don’t always need to call me Evelyn Hugo.”
“But that is who you are,” he said. “You are the Evelyn Hugo. You are extraordinary.”
I smiled and kissed him. I was so relieved to feel loved, to feel love. I was so exhilarated by wanting to be with someone again. I thought Celia would never come back to me. But Max, he was right there. He was mine.
When we got back to the cabin, the two of us were sunburned and parched. I made us peanut butter and jelly for dinner, and we sat in bed and watched the news. It felt so peaceful. Nothing to prove, nothing to hide.
We went to sleep with Max cradling me. I could feel his heartbeat against my back.
But the next morning, when I woke up and my hair was out of place and my breath smelled, I looked over at him, expecting to see a smile on his face. Instead, he looked stoic, as if he had been staring at the ceiling for hours.
“What’s on your mind?” I said.
“Nothing.”
His chest hair was graying. I thought it made him look regal.
“What is it?” I said. “You can tell me.”
He turned and looked at me. I fixed my hair, feeling somewhat embarrassed at how unkempt I looked. He looked back up at the ceiling.
“This is not how I imagined it.”
“What did you imagine?”
“You,” he said. “I imagined the glory of a life with you.”
“And now you don’t?”
“No, that’s not it,” he said, shaking his head. “Can I be honest? I think I hate the desert. There is too much sun and no good food, and why are we here? We are city people, my love. We should go home.”
I laughed, relieved that it wasn’t anything more. “We still have three days here,” I said.
“Yes, yes, I know, ma belle, but please, let us go home.”
“Early?”
“We can get a room at the Waldorf for a few days. Instead of here.”
“OK,” I said. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” he said. And then he got up and took a shower.
Later on, at the airport as we waited to board, Max went to buy something to read on the flight. He came back with People magazine and showed me the write-up of our wedding.
They called me a “daring sexpot” and Max my “white knight.”
“Pretty cool, no?” he said. “We look like royalty. You look so beautiful in this picture. But of course you do. That’s who you are.”
I smiled, but all I could think about was Rita Hayworth’s famous line. Men go to bed with Gilda, but wake up with me.
“I think maybe I will lose a few pounds,” he said, patting his belly. “I want to be handsome for you.”
“You are handsome,” I said. “You’ve always been handsome.”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Look at this photo they have of me. I look like I have three chins.”
“It’s just a bad picture. You look marvelous in person. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, really.”