She agreed, and as the rest of the cast found out, they also agreed to keep our little secret. Most of them had never even heard of Jack, and only a few were aware of the buzz his film was generating. I knew that would change in the next few weeks, and I was glad they could get to know him now, before he was on every talk show in America.
I jumped off the stage. “Hey.” I smiled, closing the distance between us quickly.
“Hey, yourself,” he answered, smiling back at me with that sexy grin.
I kissed him swiftly, and I heard Leslie swoon behind me. “Wow, wow, wow, wow . . .”
“Shut it, Leslie.” I laughed, kissing on my Brit again.
“Ahem.” Michael coughed, and I turned to look at him. “Jack, good to see you again. You having fun in New York?”
“So far, so good. Of course, we’ve barely left the hotel, but we’re definitely having fun,” Jack said, his hands drifting down to my ass.
I rolled my eyes, knowing I was in for another round of verbal dick measurement.
“Good, good. Grace, remember I need you Monday,” Michael said pointedly.
“You need her Monday, do you?” Jack asked. I poked him in the side.
“We’re working on one last round of rewrites, and I need her input,” Michael said.
“Michael, we already discussed this. Does it have to be Monday? Can’t it wait until after Jack leaves?” I said.
“When are you leaving, Jack?” Michael asked. “I mean, so I know when Grace is available.”
“I’m leaving Tuesday night. As for whether Grace is available, you’ll have to ask her,” he said, his voice taking a distinctive tone.
These two . . .
“Okay. Michael, I’m available again Wednesday morning. If it’s still cool with you, I’d really like the time until then to spend with Jack. Now, I’m going to get my bag. You two are both pretty, so play nice,” I said, walking backstage to get my stuff. Jack gave me a playful swat on the ass as I moved away, earning him a shocked look from me.
Honestly.
Leslie followed, and as soon as we were out of earshot, she started laughing. “Holy shit, girl. Those two are totally fighting over you!”
“Oh, please. Michael’s just concentrating on the show right now, and he wants to make sure everything’s right when we open.”
“Grace, are you fucking kidding me? Are you blind?” she shrieked.
“Hey, quit stirring the pot. There’s nothing going on with me and Michael. You know how long we’ve known each other, and he tends to be a bit territorial. He was like this when we were in college too.” I stopped, thinking about what I’d just said.
He was like this whenever I was dating anyone in college—every time I brought a new guy into our group of friends.
Oh man . . .
Seriously, Grace. Duh . . .
Leslie must have seen something on my face. “Holy shit, did something happen between you two back then?”
“Um, well—see, the thing is . . .” I started, wondering how to explain exactly what we were back then.
“I knew it. I freaking knew it! He’s totally still diggin’ on you, Grace. And damn, he’s such a cutie! Fuck, girl, you have Jack Hamilton on one coast and Michael O’Connell on the other. Seriously, when I grow up, I want to be just like you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Leslie, calm down—really. First of all, Jack is my boyfriend, and I love him very much. Michael’s a great friend, and someone I’m really glad to have back in my life. As for what happened between us, that was years and years ago, and it isn’t a part of what’s going on here now. So enough with the love triangle stuff, okay?” I gave her a firm look.
She just smiled in a way that meant she wouldn’t be letting this go anytime soon.
I sighed and grabbed my bag.
When I returned to the theater, the two men were engaged in what looked like a very interesting conversation. I sidled up to them, Leslie in tow. “Okay, dickheads, enough boy talk. Jack, we ready to roll?”
“Ready when you are, love,” he answered, taking my outstretched hand.
I said good-bye to Leslie, who was staring at Jack as though she wanted to pounce on him. He smiled at her, and I could tell he enjoyed watching her turn red. He was learning to revel in his new status as a heartbreaker.
I said good-bye to Michael, and as Jack shook his hand and told him he’d see him next visit, I looked at them nervously. I wanted them to be friends, but I wasn’t sure that would ever happen.
Jack and I walked out of the theater, hand in hand. Once we were outside, Jack pulled me to him and hugged me tightly.
“Hey, George, what’s with the rib cracking?” I laughed, struggling a little in his very tight grasp.
“Gracie, I love you so much.”
“Mmm, I love you too,” I murmured sweetly in his ear. My hands found their way into his hair, my nails scratching and soothing him. He relaxed his hold on me, but only slightly. I stroked his hair, scratched his scalp, and kissed his neck below his ear, the way I knew he liked.
He sighed, then pulled away from me slightly. “Grace, you’ve been holding out on me,” he said in a warning tone.
“I have? About what?” I asked.
“Why the hell have you never sung like that for me before? That was amazing!”
I blushed. “I sing for you all the time,” I protested, trying to make light of it.
“Not like that. I’m truly in awe. Not only are you sexy beyond belief, your talent is just, well, I am actually speechless!” he exclaimed.
“I’m glad you got to see some of what I’ve been working on. I really hope you can come back for the previews,” I said. “They should be between your premieres.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere but the front row. Do you think you’ll have time to come to L.A. for my premiere?” he asked, sounding a little nervous.
He knew how I felt about all the cameras and paparazzi. He wouldn’t be able to walk the red carpet with me, but I was very happy he wanted me there at all.
“You want me to come to your premiere?” I asked, smiling hugely.
“Silly girl, how could you even ask that question? You’ll get to meet my family—at least my dad for sure,” he said, laughing when he saw my expression change to panic-stricken. “I think it’s only appropriate that you meet them. I know they’re dying to meet you.” He tugged on my arm, as I was now rooted to the spot.
“You want me to meet your family at the premiere of Time in Hollywood? And to recap, you’re Jack Fucking Hamilton and you claim you’re in love with me?” I said, cocking my head to one side.
“I am in love with you, Nuts Girl,” he said, smiling.
I started pinching myself furiously.
“Hey, Crazy, you’re freaking me out a little. Stop doing that.” He laughed, holding my wrists at my sides.
“I’m trying to make myself wake up. There’s no way in hell this is actually happening. It’s too good!” I exclaimed, laughing.
“If you were dreaming, would you be feeling this?” he asked, kissing up my neck toward my ear.
“Mmm, I’ve had dreams like this, yes,” I said, closing my eyes.
“Would you be feeling this?” he asked, sucking my earlobe between his teeth and nibbling. I twisted in his arms, my skin breaking out in goose bumps. He loved when my body reacted to his touch.
“Mmm, this is starting to feel very familiar.” I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him closer.
“And if you were dreaming, would we be on our way to get frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity?” he whispered in my ear.
My eyes sprang open, and I shook my head to clear it.
“Thanks for refocusing me, Sweet Nuts. Let’s hit it!”
“That’s my girl.” He laughed at me as I quickly hailed a cab and pushed him into it. He knew to never get in the way of Grace and her sweets.
After a lovely lunch followed by some even lovelier frozen hot chocolate, we headed over to the park. I came running h
ere at least three times a week, and although it was a very touristy place to visit, it was a great park. People who’d lived in Manhattan for years used it daily. It was really like everyone’s backyard, in a city where hardly anyone had a backyard.
It was a gorgeous fall day, and with the leaves crunching underfoot and the smell of autumn in the air, it was easy to feel like we were out in the country. We spent the afternoon just walking and talking and holding hands. I’d relented and let him wear his stupid ball cap today for two reasons: One, it was chilly. Two, the cap made it harder for him to be recognized.
We were relaxed and happy, walking off the enormous amount of chocolate we’d consumed. At one point he laughed at me, saying that during our pig-out I’d been humming “White Christmas” while I slurped. He swore I had a penchant for singing Christmas carols under my breath. I didn’t actually remember this, my attention having been totally focused on the delicious concoction. A frozen hot chocolate of that magnitude was a true indulgence, and I didn’t miss a drop.
Now I was totally focused on the equally yummy Hamilton. We sat on a bench at the Plaza Hotel end of the park, holding hands and people watching. There were several kids playing by the edge of the little pond, and we laughed as we watched them kick around a soccer ball. Once, it came flying over to where we were sitting, and Jack jumped up to kick it back to them. The kids shouted their thanks, and he came back to sit next to me.
I was still thinking about meeting his family, his father especially. My mind kept bumping into it no matter how I tried to not think about it.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
“Thought you Brits used shillings and sixpence,” I said.
“Do all Americans get their knowledge of British culture from Mary Poppins?”
“Yes, although I also got a bit from Dickens.”
“Ah, yes. Another reliable source for current culture.”
He laughed as I kissed him on the nose and we snuggled together for another moment.
“Nice deflection, Grace, but what are you thinking about?” he pressed.
“Honestly?”
“Yes, please,” he encouraged.
“Meeting your family. It makes me a little nervous,” I replied.
“Why nervous?”
“I dunno. Take your pick. I’m considerably older than you, you’re about to be this huge star, not to mention the fact that I’m a Yank . . .” I trailed off, my words hanging in the air.
Jack was laughing, though. “A Yank? Seriously, where do you come up with this stuff?”
“European Vacation, this time. But seriously, Jack. What if your dad doesn’t like me?”
“My dad loves any girl who can cook. He always said that was one of the reasons he fell in love with my mum. She used to make this shepherd’s pie, and, oh, it was the best. She would—” He stopped, looking sad all of a sudden.
I wrapped my arms around his waist. “You were sixteen when she passed away, right?” I asked quietly.
He nodded.
“I bet she’d be proud of you right now. Look at everything you’ve accomplished at such a young age,” I said, scratching his scalp the way I knew he liked. He leaned into my hand but was still quiet for a while.
“Grace, how come you never talk about your parents?” he asked suddenly. “You never mention them. Where are they?”
My hand stilled. “My mom died when I was a freshman in college—a boating accident. It happened fast. I didn’t even make it home from school before she was gone. She was only forty-one.” I closed my eyes, remembering how she used to make me scrambled eggs and toast every morning, without fail. All these years, and her breakfasts were still the first thing that came to mind when I thought about her. That and her perfume.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, holding me closer.
“I’m sorry too—for you. What a pair we are.” I laughed hollowly.
“And your dad? How did he take it?”
“You’d have to ask him, if you can find him. I haven’t spoken to him since I was in third grade. He left my mom and me high and dry. No letters, no phone calls, nothing.” My skin prickled a bit. I never talked about this stuff. It made me uncomfortable, and I didn’t do uncomfortable.
“He just left?”
“Yes, my dad was a deadbeat. Can we talk about something else? No need to discuss,” I said, just as the soccer ball came our way again. This time I rose and kicked it back, my foot connecting angrily and sailing the ball over the lot of them. A few of them cheered, and I curtsied. I sat down on the bench again, and we continued to watch.
“Cute kids,” he said, watching them play.
“Yes,” I replied.
“Do you want kids, Grace?” he asked, turning to look at me.
“What, right now? Today?” I teased, standing up and depositing myself on his lap. He made room for me, tucking me in with his arms around me and his chin on my shoulder.
“Not today, Crazy. Although later on today I’ll be glad to demonstrate how babies are made.” He laughed, cuddling me to him. “But really, do you want kids someday?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean, I think if I wanted them, I’d probably have thought more seriously about it by now,” I said. “What about you? Do you want kids someday?”
“Hmm, I don’t think so either. I don’t particularly care for children—not in the sense that I want any of my own,” he said, kissing my fingertips.
“You might change your mind as you get older,” I said.
“Don’t you think you might change your mind?” he asked, pressing a kiss to my palm.
“I don’t have all the years in front of me that you do. My choices are a little more finite. Maybe I will, but I doubt it.” I laughed a little, and he looked at me curiously.
“It’s funny that you’re dating a woman in her thirties and you managed to find the one who doesn’t have a biological clock ticking,” I said, planting a kiss on top of his head and pulling him to his feet.
We began to walk back toward the Plaza to catch a cab.
“You really don’t want kids, Grace? I mean, you seem like you’d make a great mom . . .” He trailed off.
“Yeah, I think I would too. But that doesn’t mean I should have kids—does that make sense? There are plenty of women who have kids and do great with them, but who maybe in their heart of hearts didn’t really want them. Not every woman is made to have a family. My friends feel like my family, and now there’s this Brit who I’m taking care of. He takes up a lot of my time.” I zipped his jacket up higher against the cold.
“Hmm . . . tell me more about this Brit,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist as we walked.
“He’s quite handsome and very sweet. A little on the gay side, but then again, he is British,” I continued.
“Of course, of course,” he agreed.
“And I love him—quite a lot, actually,” I finished, leaning my head against his arm as we walked.
“He sounds fantastic, obviously. Does he love you as well?”
“He says he does, and really, how could he not?” I giggled, doing a little pirouette on the path.
He caught my hand and pulled me back to him. “How could he not?” he confirmed, and kissed me.
Neither of us heard the clicking of the camera.
six
The rest of the weekend flew by, and it was Monday night before I knew it.
We’d spent the rest of Saturday afternoon in his hotel, passing more time in that blessed shower. You’d think we were part fish the way we splashed around. Saturday night we went to see a show. I had been saving Wicked to see with him. I knew he wasn’t so fond of musicals, but I thought this one would hold his interest.
He enjoyed it, although he didn’t sob like I did when Elphaba sang “Defying Gravity.” Really, no one did. It seemed I would continue to make an ass of myself whenever live theater was concerned. I enjoyed the show so much I actually forgot Jack was there, and I was surprised to fi
nd him next to me at the end.
“You were lost in your own little world, Gracie. I watched you as much as I watched the show,” he said, holding my hand and helping me throw away all the crumpled tissues I’d shoved in my pockets and purse.
Sunday morning was chilly and wonderful. We spent the day at MoMA and went to Mott Street in Little Italy for dinner. We sat family style with other diners at a lovely old restaurant, passing plates and plates of food and carafes of cheap red wine.
Monday we had plans to sightsee, but we just couldn’t seem to make it out of bed. We tried several times, but in the end gave up and gave in to our insatiable need. We ordered room service for all three meals that day. We didn’t even leave the room to have housekeeping come in, although Jack did sneak out into the hallway (wrapped only in a sheet) to steal some chocolates off the maid’s cart as she was making up the room across the hall.
Late Monday night, we did something we’d never done before.
Heavens no, not that . . .
We filled the giant tub with bubbles, turned on the jets, and took a bath together. Jack sat with his back against the marble, and I tucked contentedly between his legs, lying back against his chest. He ran the sea-wool sponge up and down my arms and squeezed the water and bubbles over my chest. Something about seeing my boobies covered in soap made him all kinds of happy, he said.
I could feel how happy he was.
I snuggled against him, the water lapping gently at my body, not needing anything else in the world. Being kind, I even let him share the lovely ice cream sundae perched on the side of the tub. Since I so rarely indulged like this (although I was kind of on a roll this weekend . . .), I tended to guard my goodies like a mama bear with her cubs. Still, I maneuvered the spoon up behind me and toward his mouth.
“Thank you,” he said through a mouthful of ice cream and chocolate sauce.
“I thought I ordered nuts on this. Where are they?” I exclaimed, digging through the concoction.
“You’re looking for nuts, miss?” he asked, trying to dip my hand below the water.
I laughed. “Not until we finish this lovely dessert. Then I’ll be happy to attend to your personal nuts.” Finally finding the hidden nuts I gave him another bite, then settled back to scoop up my own bite.