Totally and Completely Fine(9)

“He’s still sowing his oats,” he said.

With meaning.

“Are you trying to tell me that he sleeps around?” I asked.

Gabe nodded like he’d just imparted some deep, dark secret instead of something I could have guessed just by looking at Ben.

He was gorgeous, talented, and famous.

Of course he slept around.

“I’m scandalized,” I said.

“I’m just telling you what I’ve heard,” Gabe said, sounding very put out.

“Then it must be true,” I said. “Just like the talk about you and that model, Annaleigh someone?”

There’d been a time when we all felt like the only place we were getting information about Gabe’s personal life was from the tabloids. Information he swore was incorrect.

“Munro,” Gabe muttered. “And that was just a misunderstanding.”

“Right. And that story about you jumping into the pool at that big Oscar party?”

“Exaggeration.”

“Of course,” I said. “What about that wild night in Paris with Jacinda and her friends?”

Gabe’s face was getting redder and redder.

“It wasn’t what it looked like,” he muttered.

“And the Broad Sheets interview?” I asked. “Was the whole thing just taken out of context?”

I knew I had him there. Everyone—Spencer included—was convinced that something had happened between Gabe and the woman who had interviewed him all those years ago.

Gabe denied that any unprofessional naughtiness had occurred, but no one believed him.

My point stood.

“I was young and stupid,” Gabe said. “The media likes to blow things out of proportion.”

“Exactly,” I said. Pointedly.

Gabe looked supremely uncomfortable.

“Like you didn’t get into trouble at that age,” he said to his feet.

“I was married at that age,” I reminded him. “My troublemaking days were behind me.”

I felt a weird twinge of longing for those days. How wild I’d been. How bold. How unafraid.

Not that I’d gone skydiving or anything like that. I’d just been reckless.

Maybe that was what I’d been craving. Not Ben, not sex, but that feeling. That out-of-control, do-what-I-want, be-what-I-want feeling that I’d had before I learned that nothing in life came without consequences.

“I remember what it was like to be in his position,” Gabe said. “It can fuck with your head.”

His expression was placid, but I could see the lines of tension around his mouth and eyes. It was more than just warning me away from an on-set horndog. He was worried.

About me, but also kind of about Ben too.

It was sweet.

From what I could tell, Ben was at a very particular point in his life—and career—one that was wholly unique. He was on the cusp of having the kind of fame and money that most people think they want, think will make all their problems go away, but once they have it, don’t really know what to do with it.

Most people don’t do a good job handling that kind of luck.

Gabe didn’t. Hadn’t.

Hence why some of those rumors hadn’t been rumors at all.

Things were better now, but it had been touch and go for a while. Funny how if someone had asked me who I’d be more likely to bury three years ago, it would have been my brother.

Not funny ha ha, but funny horrible.

“But you’re right,” he said. “It’s pointless to believe rumors.”

We sat there. I thought about excusing myself—to go read a book or stare at the wall or sit in the general vicinity of my daughter while pretending she wanted me there—but Gabe cleared his throat.

If he said one more thing about Ben, I was going to punch him in the arm.

“I have a favor to ask,” he said, looking over at Lena.

I couldn’t understand what kind of favor he could possibly be asking for unless it was to keep my sullen daughter from ruining the vibe of not just the entire movie, but the whole damn city.

“I’m getting tomorrow off,” he said. “And I was wondering if I could take Lena for the day? Just the two of us?”

“What?” I asked as if he hadn’t been perfectly clear.

“I thought I’d take her to a museum or something,” he said.

I looked over at my purse. Where my phone was. Where Ben’s number was.

No. I was being ridiculous.

“Just the two of you?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. Casual.

“I know I invited both of you here,” Gabe said. “But things have been really strained between me and Lena, and I was hoping that some time together would help.”

They’d been close—he and Lena—thick as thieves. After Spencer died, they’d formed a special bond, the kind you have when you’ve both lost your fathers around the same age.

I was quiet for too long, and Gabe took that silence as a refusal.

“Never mind,” he said. “I’m sorry. You guys are here for a vacation and to enjoy yourselves and spend time together. I’m being selfish.”

I reached out and put my hand on his.

“Gabe,” I said. “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”