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Jay went to his library, pulled down every book he owned on screenwriting—there were quite a few—and carried them into his office. Then he fired up his laptop and sat down. Nelson immediately curled at his feet.
“If it’s a romantic comedy,” he said to him, “you have to start with the meet cute.” Nelson wagged his tail in agreement.
He thought about Erin the twenty-year-old university student he’d first met. She was quiet but so smart. And then he pictured his young self, all brash and acting bold, when really he was just trying to disguise his insecurities and impress people. He could see those two younger versions of himself and Erin so clearly he felt as though he were time traveling.
He remembered vividly the first time he’d entered the Davenport home, walking in behind Arch and meeting therest of the family, who were already crowded around the kitchen counters, helping out. He remembered seeing Betsy and thinking he’d never known a mother could be that beautiful and so well put together. And she combined her undeniable beauty with genuine niceness. He fell for her immediately.
Howie had treated Jay like one of the boys from the second he arrived. He handed out jobs to everybody, Jay included, so he immediately felt like one of the family—the kind of family he’d read about and watched in TV sitcoms, but until then had never really thought existed. Now that he could see what a real family could and should be like, it opened up a whole new world.
He’d been blown away by statuesque, sun-kissed surfing goddess Mila, and then he’d met Erin. She didn’t dazzle him the way Mila had, but he’d liked her right away. He’d found himself talking to her a lot. He’d probably just been boasting, he thought with a cringe, but she had listened and given him the time of day regardless. That was probably the thing he’d noticed about her most at first—that she was such a good listener.
Suddenly inspired, he began to type. He’d never win an award for his screenwriting, but if every word came from the heart, as these did, then he was halfway there. He thought again of his young self and instead of cringing, tried to laugh at himself. He crafted the scene in a humorous light. Erin as the quiet, smart girl who saw right through the brash showoff trying so hard to impress her. Both of them a little clueless about how they could connect. And now here he was, a whole fifteen years later, taking the plunge and planning to reveal his true, innermost feelings to Erin.
What was even more frightening was that it would be in print. If Erin was still mad at him, she could publish his first attempt at a screenplay in the newspaper, laugh about it with her friends, or post it on social media if she wanted to. He paused, wondering if he was on a fool’s errand, but then he shook hishead. There wasn’t a chance in hell Erin would ever behave like that. She was the most gracious, most understanding, most thoughtful human being he’d ever met. And that was why he loved her.
Still, he felt a little woozy when he finally pushed Send.
* * *
The trouble with living in a small apartment was it was so easy to clean. Everything was organized, her laundry was up to date, her bills paid, Boswell fed and walked. After taking the scripts back to Jay with the note, Erin hadn’t heard a word. That had been a couple of days ago.
Until now, she’d been trying to deal with her emotions by herself, but there was one person she could always turn to when she was in a mess, and that was her sister Mila.
She called, and then worried that she was interrupting Mila and Hersch doing something lovey-dovey and fabulous, but after just a few words of greeting, Mila said, “What’s up, Erin? You sound weird.”
That was the nice thing about having a sister as close as hers—there was so much she didn’t have to bother explaining. “I feel confused and restless and I need your help.”
“You want to come up here? Or I can come to you. Or maybe you’d prefer to go surfing?”
Erin knewup heremeant Hersch’s beautiful new home in Carmel Valley, and much as she liked Hersch and felt as though he was already part of the family, she didn’t really want to be in an unfamiliar house right now. Erin loved Mila’s cute cottage, but for some reason she wanted to stay put, right here in her safe place. She suggested that Mila drive down, and within half an hour her sister was knocking on her door.
Better still, she was holding a Tupperware container. “Don’t even start with me. Yes, I baked muffins this morning. That’s how badly I am in love with Herschel Greenfield. I, Mila Davenport, baked muffins. Blueberry muffins. What’s more, they’re delicious.”
Erin took the container and ushered her sister inside. She was happy that Mila had been lucky in love, and if her confident, athletic, and wildly independent sister could become a homebody and start baking muffins, who was to say that Jay Malone couldn’t also make a huge change in his life? Okay, maybe his change was a little bigger than baking, but she’d work with what she had.
After Mila had finished making a suitable fuss of Buzzy, who adored her second only to their mom, Erin started the coffee machine. “Coffee?”
Mila nodded, taking a seat at the kitchen table. No matter the time of day, she was never one to turn down caffeine. Erin put the muffins on a pretty ceramic plate and then poured them both a cup of steaming hot coffee.
Mila took a deep sip and waited for Erin to begin. Except now that it came to it, she didn’t know where to start. Because the whole story went beyond Jay, way back in time, and it was one she’d never told before.
She took a muffin and bit into its still-warm center, then exclaimed in delight. “Hey, these are really good!”
Mila laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. I think the secret is a little lemon peel.”
“Nice touch.” Erin took another bite. “You can come here more often.”
“But you didn’t drag me down here for my fabulous baking. Tell me what’s going on.”
Erin steeled herself and took a deep breath. “It’s Jay Malone.”
Mila all but smacked herself on the forehead. “Call me clairvoyant—I had a feeling it was about him.”
Erin gave her sister a wry smile. She took a sip of coffee and contemplated where she wanted to begin. She wasn’t like Mila—she didn’t rush into things, including conversations. She wanted to choose her words carefully. Since her sister knew her very well, Mila just waited.
When Erin was ready, she let out a long sigh and confessed, “I’m half in love with him.”
“Erin, that’s no surprise to anyone but you. What I can’t figure out is why you’re sitting here with me having blueberry muffins and coffee instead of having hot, wild sex with Jay?”