Page 85 of One Happy Summer

I feel bad for the cast, who have to wear winter clothes in the high temperatures, but not bad enough to come out of Presley’s air-conditioned trailer.

The Redwoods in California are probably my favorite thing so far—all those towering, monstrous trees and the morning fog weaving through them like a ghostly blanket. We go on walks during her breaks, enjoying the cooler weather, and talking about future plans, which right now seem distant since Presley won’t be done with this shoot until next March, at the earliest.

“I think I should buy a place on Sunset Harbor,” she says, wearing a light jacket and a black knit cap over her dark hair. Her arm is linked through mine and she leans against me as we walk, pine needles and leaves crunching under our feet.

“I bet my mom would sell you the princess apartment,” I tell her.

She looks up at me, her eyes widening. “Really?”

“I was kidding,” I say, reaching up and fiddling with my glasses. “You’d actually want to buy it?”

She nods. “I have a lot of fond memories in that apartment.”

I chuckle. “So do I.”

I’m still living in my mother’s childhood dream above the bookshop, at least for another couple of months while Jack and I try to figure out office space. It looks like it will most likely be back in Fort Lauderdale. For now, we’ve been working on our own and having meetings on Zoom. Things are going well and moving quickly, so I don’t anticipate our current setup lasting much longer. If we want to grow this business—and that’s the plan—we’ll be better off in the same office.

Until then, I’ll continue to work from wherever Presley is, using her breaks from filming to help her run lines and getting in trouble when I mess up her hair and makeup after kissing her soundly.

Getting to see her in her element has been captivating. I knew she was a great actress because I saw her perform onscreen, but to watch her live, to see her fall into the role of Callis like it’s something she’s been doing for years, is incredible. And I get a front-row seat for all of it. I don’t love that front-row seat as much when she has to kiss Landon West, though. I’d prefer a back-row seat. Something very far back. Another time zone would be preferable.

She rarely has downtime long enough to go anywhere, but when she does, we take advantage of it. One weekend in August, Presley went back to Sunset Harbor with me for a wedding, and a couple of weeks later, I attended a charity gala and an awards show with her.

Being by her side on the red carpet is not my favorite thing. Don’t get me wrong—I love being there with her and enjoy watching her pose for cameras and answer questions with ease, but I also feel a bit like a cat at a dog show. I’m awkward, and it’s obvious in the pictures. Jack has made a computer screensaver out of a particular shot of me with wide eyes and triple chins. What a jerk.

I’ll keep taking terrible pictures by Presley’s side for as long as I can. Once we get the office up and running, I won’t have as much opportunity, and I’m savoring every moment I get to spend with her.

Presley

When Briggs has to go back to the office for AssistGen, I become a stage-five clinger. A long-distance one, but that doesn’t stop me from texting and calling and wishing every waking hour that I was with him instead of on this stupid movie set. A month goes by without seeing him in person, and all I want to do is kiss his face off, but I have to wait until our break for Thanksgiving to get the opportunity. When the holiday finally comes around and he’s there waiting for me at the Fort Myers airport so we can take the ferry to Sunset Harbor together, I not only kiss his face off, I also cry like a big idiot.

Thanksgiving is perfect, just Briggs and me with his mom and sister. Marianne usually likes to invite other Sunset Harbor residents to join them, but she keeps it small for me, which I adore her for doing. She makes the most incredible turkey with a white gravy that I’d honestly like to drink, but I hold myself back since I’m still having to dress up like Callis and those costumes are not that forgiving.

For the short duration we’re on the island, I find time to close on the house I bought. It’s right on the beach and has a wraparound porch where I plan to spend as much time snuggled up with Briggs as I can, once our schedules slow down. Which won’t be until February for me, and for Briggs . . . well, we don’tknow when that will happen. I try not to think about it or I get twitchy with anxiety.

A month later, production takes a longer break for Christmas, and I spend every minute of it with Briggs. I introduce him to my dad, who, like everyone who meets Briggs, likes him instantly. We have dinner on Christmas night with my dad and my grandparents. Rounding out the party like some weird Hollywood dramedy, my mom and Declan Stone join us. They’re still going strong, which is just . . . great. But having them there was not as weird as I was anticipating, even if on paper it all sounds very strange.

When February rolls around and filming wraps, I don’t bother going to my house in Calabasas; I head to Florida to be with Briggs. He takes some time off from work and we head to Sunset Harbor, lying on the beach and soaking up the sun, and of course snuggling up on the porch at my new home.

“Do you know what I think?” I ask him as we sit tangled together on a two-person swing that I purchased for this exact purpose, listening to the waves as they crash against the shore and gazing at the moon lighting up the night.

“What’s that?” Briggs asks, his hand making lazy patterns on my arm as he holds me close.

“I think we should quit our jobs and just do this for the rest of our lives.”

He sighs. “That’s a great idea. Maybe the best one you’ve ever had.”

“I agree, I’m a genius,” I say.

“You are. But . . . you’ve got contracts and I’ve—”

“Contracts, shmontracts,” I cut him off. “Stop ruining my dreams, Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”

I don’t want to think about the next movie, which starts shooting in three months. This one, a spy thriller set in the 1940s calledOperation Dark Horizon, won’t be as long of a shoot asCosmic Fury—or as intense, thank goodness.

But filming another movie means being away from Briggs, and I hate the thought of it. I have to deal with it though, because my time off, which I spend soaking up every moment with the love of my life while bouncing back and forth between Fort Lauderdale and Sunset Harbor, flies by. Before I know it, it’s time to go back to work.

Briggs

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