I shrug. “But you are.”
“And you’re a beautiful girl who I was damn lucky to kiss one morning.”
Holy shit. “I thought you’d forgotten that.”
“Did you forget it?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then why would I?”
“Because you’re yo—”
“I know, I know. Back to that again. Because I’m Chase James.” He sighs and looks out the window. “Can you pretend that I’m just some guy named Chase with a normal job?”
“Like a pizza maker? Or an orthodontist?”
One corner of his mouth turns up. “Or a hat salesman.”
I think for a moment. “Maybe an elevator repairman.”
“A basket weaver,” he suggests.
I pretend to consider it. Then shake my head. “Nah. Can’t do it. You’re a star. Even if you never make another movie, it’s embedded in your DNA and very hard to ignore.”
“Stubborn girl.” But the way he says it is like an endearment.
“Coffee!” I exclaim in desperation before I throw myself into his arms. With my heartbeat on accelerate, I wander into the kitchen in a daze. I say some calming mantras in my head, but that doesn’t work either, so I pull out the tin with coffee in it and fill the well of the coffeemaker with water. The familiar action settles me a bit.
The normally bright and cheery kitchen is still a little dim, so I turn on a light. We never had the money to update the wood counters or the ancient appliances, but I’m glad. Everything is familiar, worn with years of love, from the blue-and-yellow curtains that Nanna said reminded her of a summer in Provence to the sunshine yellow walls I painted myself.
Chase is standing tall, again taking in every inch of the room with an odd intensity. My house couldn’t be more opposite from glamorous Hollywood. But then again, I never did believe all that glitters is gold. Tarnish adds character.
We don’t talk as the coffee brews, but it’s not awkward now. There’s ease in this quiet. When the coffee is ready, I pour him a cup.
“This is the way you like it, right? Black?”
He smiles. “You remember.”
“You can take the girl out of the barista, but not the barista out of the girl, or something like that.”
We take our coffee to the living room and sit on the couch together, watching as the morning sun moves a little higher and the streets begin to fill. I try not stare at him too awkwardly as we make idle chitchat. Mostly, he asks me questions and I answer the best I can, while trying to think of questions for him that don’t feel too intrusive to his well-guarded privacy. But under our words there’s an intensity, a weight, the silent refrain that this is goodbye.
I savor every glance he gives me, every smile, every gesture, storing them up so I can take them out when I’m old and gray and need something romantic to remember, when I want to think of the day I had a superstar’s eyes lingering on me as if I was someone special.
Finally, he sets his cup down on the coffee table, and his long legs unfold as he stands. “I better go. Daisy must be wondering what happened to me, and my hat won’t be much of a disguise now. I don’t want to cause problems by being spotted leaving your house.”
“Of course.” I hop up.
“It’s safer if you don’t walk me out. I don’t want anyone to see us on the street together.”
“Oh! I’m still wearing your coat.” I slip out of his jacket and hand it to him reluctantly, not wanting to part with this tangible connection of him. Our hands brush and I feel a jolt of electricity between us.
Even though he said not to see him out, I don’t want to say goodbye just yet. So, I grab my favorite long gray cardigan from the coatrack and wrap myself up in it for modesty and warmth, then walk him to the door, opening it for him. Our footsteps slow as we stand framed in the large doorway. I’m running out of excuses to keep him with me.
It’s a long shot, but suddenly, I’m gripped by the need for this not to be goodbye forever. “Will you be visiting San Francisco again soon?”
“No.” Just that one word, and my hopes are rubble at my feet.
He swings his head toward the little park across the street. “Did you see that?” His eyes fix on something in the distance.
I crane my neck but don’t see anything out of the ordinary. The park still looks peaceful at this early hour. “No? What?”
A cat jumps out of some bushes at the edge of the park and chases a squirrel up a tree.