Unwritten (Page 51)

“OK…” I think fast. “My three for this year were…making it through my whole time at the magazine in Paris without once crying in front of the dragon lady. I went to the bathrooms for that,” I add, laughing. “And, number two, I managed to get by on my crappy French without offending anyone. And three…” I stop.

“What?” Blake prompts me.

I flush. “And, I kissed you, on New Years. That was pretty brave of me.”

Tegan leads the others in a round of applause. I grin, dipping my head in a little bow. “Thank you, thank you very much.”

“So what’s ahead then?” Ryland asks, finally coming up for air from his massive plate of hash.

“My goals?” I exhale. “I don’t know, I guess… I’d like to finish up this production. Do the screenwriting thing, and, find a place to call home.”

I can’t stop myself from looking over at Blake as I say the last one. I’ve spent years bouncing around the world, from my parents’ stations overseas to boarding school to Paris and now here. Seeing the home Tegan has made for herself here makes me want to settle down myself, stay somewhere for longer than a few months and make a life for myself too.

But Blake is shoveling eggs in his mouth and doesn’t notice.

“Those sound like pretty good goals,” Tegan nods approvingly. “But aren’t you forgetting one?”

I blink. “Like what?”

“The one about eating your body weight in waffles,” she grins.

I laugh, and reach for my fork. “I better get started then!”

Breakfast flies by in a blur of laughter and syrup-drenched carbs. I love how natural it feels, like I really belong as part of the family. I’ve always thought of the Callahans as the family I’ve never had, and Tegan has welcomed me with open arms, but there’s always been a part of me that wondered if I was a third wheel: tagging along because I didn’t have anyplace else to be. But now, with Blake’s arm draped around me, there’s a security I’ve always craved. I know that it’s right where I belong, with the people I care about most in the world, and by the time Blake and I drive to set, I’m in a contented haze.

“Best birthday ever,” I say happily, reaching over to take Blake’s hand.

He chuckles. “We haven’t even gotten started yet!”

“With what?” I ask.

He gives me a mysterious smile from behind the wheel. “That’s a surprise,” he says, teasing. “But be ready at seven after work. I have the whole night planned.”

“Nope.” Blake turns back to the road.

“Come on…” I beg. “I need to figure out what to wear,” I try to reason with him. “A moonlight walk on the beach needs totally different clothing options than a fancy dinner, or hang-gliding, or race-car driving—”

“OK, OK!” Blake laughs. “No hang-gliding tonight. Think dressy, dinner and dancing.” He winks.

My excitement grows. I have the perfect dress: a clingy midnight blue number I’ve been saving for a special occasion. And a romantic night out with Blake is about as special as they come.

“Anything else you can tell me?” I push my luck. “So I can come prepared, I mean.”

“That’s all you’re getting!” Blake protests. “Otherwise, it won’t be a surprise.”

“Surprises are overrated,” I sigh. “I prefer to know exactly what’s coming. That way, I can enjoy looking forward to it.”

Blake pulls into the parking lot and shuts off the engine. He leans over and pulls me against him, kissing me long and slow and deep. “I promise, I’m going to show you a night to remember,” he murmurs as my heart races. He trails a finger down my cheek and throat, making me shiver. “And Dash is giving us both the morning off too, so we don’t even need to make it back to town before dawn.”

“Aha!” I pull away. “That means we’re going out of town! Where? How far?”

“Hush you,” Blake chuckles. “My lips are sealed.”

We get out of the car, but just as we’re heading towards the set, Blake’s cell rings. He checks the display. “It’s my agent,” he says, a shadow flitting across his face. “He’s probably got more bad news.”

“You don’t know that,” I give him a sympathetic look. “Take it. Otherwise it’ll be hanging over you all day.”

Blake takes a deep breath, as if to brace himself, then answers. “Hey Josh…”

I drift a respectful distance away. Dash is just coming out of the production trailer, and when he sees me, he waves me over.

Now it’s my turn to brace myself. I hit “send” on the script pages early this morning; now I can only hope they were what Dash wanted.

“Was it OK?” I approach him, nervous. “I tried to keep them close to what we had, because I know you didn’t want to change locations or production things—”

I break off with a yelp as Dash grips me around the waist and spins me around.

“I could kiss you right now!” he exclaims. “The pages were perfect! I can’t believe just a few small fixes change the whole dynamic of the scene.”

“Are you sure?” I breathe, elated. “That’s what I was hoping. It was really all about the way they were relating… It’s almost like the script was saying too much.”