I laughed. “You seem secure enough in yourself.”
He shrugged one shoulder, twisting slightly so that his knee was up on the seat pressed into my thigh. “In many ways, not all. I try to be kind to myself, though.”
“Me too. Life is too short and too frequently horrible to spend it hating myself for who I am.”
“You know, I absolutely agree with you. Which is why I think you are just the woman to date Adam.”
It was my turn to blink, so shocked by his proposition, my thoughts turned to static as my brain went off-line.
Date Adam Meyers?
Four-time Academy Award winner Adam Meyers.
Once married to Savannah Meyers with a history of dating Hollywood’s hottest actresses and models.
A man so gorgeous that he’d been voted Sexiest Man Alive twice and his billboard for the movieStrandedon Sunset Boulevard had to be taken down because the sight of him shirtless and wet in the Pacific Ocean had caused too many fender-benders.
Not to mention, he was thirty-eight, twelve years older than me and infinitely more experienced.
I may have spent one dreamlike afternoon with him in southern England teaching Sebastian and him how to surf, but it was an isolated incident. I never spoke to him before or after even though we were not infrequently in the same vicinity because Savannah and Miranda were friends.
It was a memory I cherished, evidence that a perfect day could exist.
“What?” I finally asked.
Sebastian bit the edge of his grin at my reaction. “I know it seems unorthodox, but you were the one to encourage me to help him.”
“I meant buy the guy a coffee or lend him a kind ear,” I spat incredulously. “Not loan me out to him like some benevolent pimp.”
“Linnea.” His voice was a cross between a growl and a chuckle, as if he was both appalled and amused by me. He took my flailing hands in his, smoothing his thumbs over my knuckles. “This is neither a joke nor some kind of scandalous proposition. This is me seeing two people I care about who need help and providing a solution. You would enter a contractual agreement with Adam topretendto be his girlfriend, to appear with him in public, with the understanding that absolutely nothing sexual would occur between you. And in exchange, he would pay you and, intentionally and incidentally, help you with your career. Believe it or not, this kind of arrangement exists in Hollywood.”
When I opened my mouth to protest again, he continued, “This isn’t just about the fact that you—thatMiranda—needs help. This is also about your dreams. You are too young to have given up on yourself.”
“I haven’t given up,” I bit out, suddenly furious with him. Wrenching my hands away, I stood to pace along the porch, needing the movement to work out my frenetic thoughts. “Lifeisn’t easy, Sebastian, and sometimes you have to make choices. I made thechoiceto come to Los Angeles and help Miranda. I still go on auditions, even if it’s not as frequently as I’d like, and I still work on my designs. We may have been friends for a long time, but only through those letters. Don’t pretend you know me or what I most long for, all right?”
I finished standing before him, the air too hot and fast through my lungs, a vibrating finger pointing in his face.
Sebastian only stared at me placidly, resting his ankle on top of the opposite knee.
“Bene, Linnea. Tell me, what is it then that you most long for?”
What an impossible question to answer even though I’d essentially goaded him into asking it.
I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to take him by the neck and shake him.
Love! Success! Security!
But a quiet voice, almost a whisper yet impossible to ignore, said something different.
A witness, it spoke.
Someone to be with me through all the peaks and troughs of life. To see how hard I struggled and strived to be better, to hold me when I needed a hug, to observe even those things I did not want anyone to know about myself and to somehow make me feel better about them.
Companionship was too tame a word.
A lover seemed too shallow.
I wanted someone to stand beside me in this cruel and glorious universe and never stop holding my hand.
