Page 2 of Lost Love Found

West Hollywood Hills is where I live. I knew I needed to stay in Los Angeles with my job, and I love it here. I’m never over nine miles from any of the major studios. Thanks to some early investing in real estate after my dad passed and left me some money, I get to live in the house of my dreams. Though I’d trade just one more day with my dad for this house, my job, and all my other earthly possessions. Fuck, I’d give it all up for one more minute. Just to hear his laugh.

Maeve doesn’t answer any of my questions. She just keeps sipping and swaying, watching me with eyebrows slightly arched as I have my freak-out. She knows I need time to process either out loud or in my head or both before I make sense of things.

“You’re right,” I say, even though she hasn’t said a word. “This is stupid. I should just let it go. Must be my period or Mercury is in retrograde again or something. I’m sure after this wine and some ass shaking I’ll be just fi–” I’m interrupted by the sound of her wine glass coming down hard on the countertop.

“Oh, hellllll, no, Elaina James! No, you do not.” Oh shit, she used my full name. That’s not good. “No more of this ‘it could be worse’ bullshit. Take your emotions seriously, just not literally, do you hear me? If you’re in a funk, be in a funk. I know it doesn’t happen to you often because you don’t let it, but it’s OK to just feel shitty sometimes and not have a name for it. Feel your feelings, girl! Also, maybe get some REAL dick in you sometime soon? That ought to help.”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me when she says the words ‘real dick’ because she knows all too well I gave up trying to date or have sex with men after I walked away from that dumpster fire of a relationship last year. “I know you haven’t been with anyone since leaving he who shall not be named.” Her voice deepens a little. Her disdain for Ben runs deep. She never liked him. “And I’m not saying you need a man to make yourself happy, but an orgasm or two from something other than your collection of sex toys might feel good!”

I scoff at that. “Oh, please. As if I’m guaranteed even a single orgasm from a man. No, thanks. I got it handled.” I shoot her a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes.

She looks at me, places a gentle hand on my shoulder and says, “Time to get serious. You know what I think, babe? I think you need a break to focus on yourself. Just you. You haven’t stopped working since we moved here six years ago. I think you’ve forgotten how to do things just for you. I think you’ve focused on your career as a way to avoid other things, too.” She squeezes my shoulder knowingly. It’s no secret that my best coping tactic is avoidance. But before we get too deep into your coping mechanism, let me ask you… when’s the last time you read a book? Or went on a non-work trip? I’m talking about no research, just for f-u-n?” She arches her eyebrows so far up her forehead that I’m afraid she’s going to lose them in that beautiful head of blonde hair.

By now, we’ve both emptied our first glasses of wine and I pour some more, realizing we need to open the next bottle because those were REALLY generous pours. Lizzo is showering us with some essential lyrics as “Good as Hell” comes on. Answering no questions, I dance and sing around the kitchen and Maeve joins me. By the end of the song, I’m feeling almost good as hell. And that feels like enough for now.

Maeve and I eat three different kinds of ice cream, finish both bottles of wine, and are both tucked into our own beds by 10 p.m. She basically has her own room at my house, and I have one at hers. It makes BFF sleepovers way more fun when I don’t have to share a bed with her. She’s a human popsicle who also steals all the covers in her sleep, so I’ll pass on the bed-sharing!

* * *

I wake at 9 am, which is early for me when I’m not on set. Mornings are not my thing. Maeve’s words from last night keep repeating themselves in my head. When was the last time I read a book? Or went on a trip just for fun? When did I do something just for me, other than cook meals? I honestly don’t remember. So, I make a list of all the things I want to do just because I want to do them. Here we go.

Get a manicure and pedicure - this will make me feel pretty and even if no one sees my toes, I’ll know they look nice.

Have more dance parties in the kitchen. Alone, With other people. Just generally dance more.

Host a dinner party. Make an extravagant meal. Enjoy every second of the chaos. This is for me because being around people brings me joy.

Visit Mamá in Marblehead. Tell her I love her. Hug her tightly. Lots.

Make a new friend? Just at least try. But only if it feels right and good and the vibes are impeccable.

Fuck, I feel lame writing that last one, but all of Ben’s friends took his lying, cheating side. I’m also not very good at meeting new people unless they’re on the set design team, and then it’s hard to be friends with them because I’m their boss and no one wants to be friendly with the boss. Ugh. OK, moving along.

Go on a trip just for fun. Pick somewhere I haven’t been, or somewhere I have been and loved. Go and eat all the delicious things, see all the beautiful things and do whatever the hell I want.

Kiss someone. Make it someone really kissable. If they suck at it, stop and find someone new. Kiss because I love kissing and because it’s fun.

Buy (and wear) sexy lingerie. Try to make it comfortable. Don’t look at the price tags. Feel good about your little secret no one else can see.

Wax my lady parts. Just because I’ve always wanted to try it. Because it’s new. Because I want to know what it feels like.

Because lord knows my girly bits haven’t gotten any kind of TLC for more days than I care to count!

Alright, well, that’s a solid start to a super-duper lame list of things normal women do fairly regularly. Great! I put my notebook down on my nightstand and head to the kitchen for some coffee. The machine isn’t programmed to brew it for another 40 minutes since I’m not usually up this early on a day off.

Ohhh, maybe I should go for a walk to that cute coffee stand on Santa Monica Blvd. Frankie will love that!

I turn off the coffee timer and notice a piece of paper sitting on the island. It’s a note from Maeve.

Bon,

I hope you enjoy your sleep in! I’m off to see Charlie and get things ready for the NYE party, which you are most definitely, absolutely coming to. I don’t care if your eye surgery makes you groggy or whatever. You’re coming. Also, who books a surgery on New Year’s Eve?

I love you. See you tomorrow night for prezzies!

-M

I totally forgot that Charlie, Maeve’s twin, landed in LA today. She’s coming to spend the holidays with us since Maeve couldn’t fly home to London thanks to this movie being so delayed.

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