This Is What Happy Looks Like(34)
Author: Jennifer E. Smith

A gust of wind skipped over the water, and Olivia used one hand to pin down the bottom of her dress as someone took the other to help her off the boat. When she was safely on solid ground, she and Graham made their way together up the long walkway, flanked by the director and a few assistants, all of them with headsets and clipboards and grim expressions. Two members of the crew stayed behind to secure the equipment; Graham had mentioned yesterday that they wouldn’t be done until late in the afternoon, but Ellie suspected they had to break early because of the weather.

A crowd had gathered along the harbor wall, and the screams reached a fever pitch as the two stars approached. A few oversize security guards patrolled the edges, but this didn’t prevent the tourists from recording it all on their phones or the tween girls from leaning over the rail with wide-eyed glee as Graham approached. Olivia paused to whisper something in his ear before stopping to sign a few autographs, and the rest of the paparazzi appeared as if from nowhere, moving in to bear witness to the moment with their heavy cameras.

Ellie had come to a stop near the harbormaster’s office, still a safe distance away from the crowds, but as he headed back toward his trailer, Graham looked over. His eyes found hers quickly, so quickly it was almost like he’d known she would be there. She smiled reflexively at him, but before she had a chance to do anything else—shake her head or give him some sort of sign—he changed direction, walking toward her without seeming to notice that the attention of the entire dockside had shifted his way.

From where she was standing, Ellie’s knees went weak, her legs suddenly wobbly, and for a brief, panicked moment, she remained frozen there like that, unsure what to do. Graham was completely oblivious, waving as he drew closer, his smile widening. Over his shoulder, the photographers had abandoned Olivia’s autograph session and were tracking Graham with their lenses. The words that Mom had spoken earlier now flashed through Ellie’s mind—Once something like this is out there, you can’t take it back—and she found herself moving away.

I can’t, she thought, hoping he would understand.

But of course he didn’t. She caught his eye only for a moment, just long enough to see the confusion in his face, and she felt a quick stab of guilt. But it was too late. Already, she was cutting around the side of the bait shop, the shortcut down to the beach. And then, like the best of magicians, she made herself disappear, leaving the rest of the three-ring circus behind her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: Tuesday, June 11, 2013 12:18 PM

To: [email protected]

Subject: weather report

E,

We came in early because of the wind. I’m gonna go ahead and assume that’s what carried you off too. We’re working late tonight, but I’ll try to stop by afterward…

G

Chapter 12

All afternoon, Graham was tailed by a kind of low-grade panic, making it impossible to concentrate. As they waited for the weather to improve, he pretended to study the script, but his mind was elsewhere. Outside, the wind buffeted the sides of the trailer, and he rubbed his eyes and willed himself to focus.

It took two hours for the weather to shift, the world going quiet again, and there was a new urgency to the production as they headed back out on the water, trying to make up for lost time in the last of the good light. Graham could feel everyone’s impatience with him as he stumbled through his lines, tripping over the words, missing his positioning, fumbling with the gears even as an expert called out instructions from off camera. The water was choppy, biting at the sides of the wooden boat, and even though the wind had weakened, the hair people were still fighting a losing battle in their efforts to keep Olivia’s ponytail in check.

Graham kept his feet planted wide near the bow as Mick conferred with two of the cameramen, deciding whether to pack it in once again or press on and see what they could get. The Go Fish rose and fell on the blue-gray waves, the deck canting from side to side. If Graham’s performance was being taken into consideration, he was pretty sure they’d be heading to shore. The scene called for raw emotion and hard-earned declarations of love. It required anguished looks and choking voices, but Graham was simply unable to muster that kind of passion at the moment. Not today. Not for Olivia. Not after watching Ellie walk away from him.

He should have still been flying after last night. When he’d kissed her, it had felt like the striking of a match, something hard and bright in his chest, a part of him he hadn’t even realized was waiting to be lit.

But this morning, he’d seen the look on her face across the harbor path, just before she turned away, and it had pushed the breath right out of him. He couldn’t blame her. He shouldn’t have waved in the first place. As soon as he had, he’d felt the surge of attention at his back, and anyone in her position would have done the same thing when faced with such a mob. But even from a distance, he could read her expression so plainly it was like she was speaking the words aloud: I’m sorry, she’d managed to say, without saying anything at all.

And then she was gone.

It was probably just a moment of panic. He was probably overreacting. But still, Graham couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been walking away from more than just the crowds and the cameras.

The sun had already set behind the steeple of the church when they docked for the second time, but the day was far from over. They were scheduled to shoot another scene outside one of the local bars this evening, and as he crossed the road toward his trailer, Graham could already see the enormous lamps being set up, a small oasis of artificial twilight on the otherwise darkening street.

A production assistant was calling to him from across the lot, but he wasn’t needed on set for another twenty minutes, so he kept his head down, pulling his phone from his pocket as he walked. He scrolled past e-mails from his agent and publicist, his business manager and a girl he’d met at the gym before leaving L.A. But there was still no word from Ellie, and as he bounded up the steps of his trailer, he hit the call button, listening to it ring. He was already assembling the message he would leave if she didn’t pick up—something casual and upbeat to hide his growing worry that she hadn’t responded to his e-mail—but when he opened the door, he was pulled up short by the sight of Harry, who was sitting at the small table inside. He lowered the phone again, fumbling to switch it off.

“Who was that?” Harry asked, setting aside a sheaf of papers.