Page 47 of Take It Till You Make It
I suck in a breath to respond, but slam my mouth closed when I realize how “date-like” that sort of talk feels. I’m still so unclear about his intentions, but seeing Mom’s brows raised tells me I’m not the only one coming to a date-like conclusion. If I knew this was a date-date, would I have said yes? He’s so much older than me. I don’t understand what he would see in me to make him want to date me.
I clear my throat. “Thanks. I was thinking something similar about you too.”
“I’m pretty?” he smirks.
I scoff. “You know you’re gorgeous. I guess I like seeing the real you. The clothes you choose when Grimilda isn’t in charge. The way you wear your hair when you aren’t straight-laced Jeff.”
He cocks his head. “You’re absolutely right. I’m entranced by who you truly are because I don’t get to see her as often.”
My laugh is a little maniacal because the word “entranced” has me feeling lightheaded. “Even at lunch, we’re still dressed in character.”
“And I’m so method. On set, I’m all Jeff – all the time.”
I squint at him, wondering if he thinks that’s true.
He laughs. “Kidding.”
I let out a breath. “Good, because I was suddenly worried about your acting abilities if you thought you were Jeff as we play backgammon and dispute the authenticity of past Hollywood relationships with Sally.”
He laughs. “Man, I love getting her riled up over that stuff. I make crap up just to see her defend Humphrey Bogart’s honor.”
“I had a feeling you didn’t have a clue what you were talking about.” I bend over the back of the couch to give Mom a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up.”
She’s grinning over the exchange between Crispin and me. The joy in her expression makes my heart skip a beat. I don’t know the last time I saw that look on her face, but I know it was before we lost Dad. Probably that very morning. I lean down and wrap my arms around her neck, undoubtedly choking her with my intense emotions. It seems tonight is a big step forward for the both of us. My voice is a fierce whisper. “I love you, Mom.”
Her hands grip my upper arms, and her face is buried in my hair. “I love you too, baby girl. Have fun.”
I let go but only pull back far enough to look her in the eye. For some reason, it’s important to me that she knows how difficult it all is for me too. “I’m trying, Mom. I’m trying.”
Unable to meet Crispin’s gaze, I walk past him and swing the door open, assuming he’ll follow. By the time I’m at the base of the stairs, I’ve reeled my emotions in again, so I wait for him.
He points. “This way this time.”
“Ah, so you did have trouble finding a parking spot. And we’ve left everyone inside the car all this time waiting.”
“I might have parked illegally but knew I wouldn’t be here long. And they are meeting us at the restaurant.”
“Oh?” For some reason, hearing that I’m climbing into Crispin’s car alone with him again makes me feel all sorts of things. Good, bad, but nothing indifferent.
“I couldn’t imagine cramming them into the backseat. And I know River doesn’t mind driving.”
I frown. There’s plenty of room for the three of them in the backseat. I’m sure River’s little sister will fit fine in that center seat. “How do you know River doesn’t mind driving?”
“We talked about it last time. At the restaurant?”
I shake my head to indicate I missed that conversation.
“Oh, right. I think you and Sally were discussing Academy Award gowns.” We both laugh at the memory of Sally being transported while she talked about each nominee’s gown for the last two decades. “River said he finds driving a car similar to sailing a boat. But instead of navigating around shorelines or through coral reefs, he has to dodge in and out of slow traffic. Anyway, he says he enjoys driving out here.”
I nod. “That’s nice for Sally. She’s not looking forward to getting her license. I would assume she’ll have to before college starts.”
“Yes, she will. There is a stunning lack of public transportation around the greater Los Angeles area. If they moved to the town her college is in, she could probably take the bus, but from where they live now, there’s no chance.”
When we approach his car, he opens the passenger door for me. I slide inside and pull my arms in close and press my knees together as if me relaxing might get in the way of him closing the door.
A voice outside the car startles me.
“Hey, jerk, that’s my parking place. My sister’s here and texted that she couldn’t find a place to park.”
