Not even Anna. But she’s also a musician and doesn’t like people reading her songs before their done so she understands the need for privacy with my words.
Hunters warm palm covers my hand and he squeezes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to snoop. It got mixed up with the scripts I was tossing on the table. That’s the only reason I picked it up. I thought I’d missed something Eddie sent.”
The look in his eyes shows true remorse for accidentally invading my private creativity. How can I be angry when he looks like that?
“I know. And I appreciate your take on it. Who knows, maybe I’ll switch it to a play and my brain will unlock itself because of it.”
“Maybe so. But for now, concentrate on dinner. We don’t want that salmon to go to waste.”
“Oh believe me, it won’t,” I say, taking another huge bite.
After inhaling three tacos, I take a deep breath, willing my stomach to expand just a little. “Why am I always stuffing myself when we eat together?”
He shrugs. “Maybe it’s because you know I like feeding you.”
“Because it makes you feel dominant over little old me?” I joke and nudge his shoulder.
“No,” he says as he picks up his plate and walks to the sink. “Because I have very vivid memories of being a starving artist, and I like knowing I’m doing my part to help you reach your dreams. Even if it’s just making sure you eat something not full of MSG every once in a while.”
Oh look. See that puddle of goo on the floor? That’s me, because I just completely melted at those words.
“You’re a good man, Hunter Stone.”
“You’re a good woman, Celeste Pumper-whatever.” He leans over the island as I stand up and meet him halfway for a blood-pumping kiss that ends too soon when his phone rings.
“Dammit,” he grumbles and grabs it to see who so rudely interrupted what was shaping up to be a very fulfilling evening. “It’s Eddie. Probably wants to know about the scripts. Give me a minute?”
“Sure. You cooked. It’s only fair that I clean.”
He rounds the corner and gives me a quick peck before walking into the living room. “Hey, Eddie, what’s up?”
I make quick work of dishing out meal-sized servings into my fancy storage containers, also known as old butter and yogurt containers. There’s a small fridge in our rehearsal space so I’ll be taking this goodness for lunch tomorrow. I have no guilt whatsoever about leaving only a little for Hunter to have.
Once that’s done, I get to tackle my least favorite part—the creation of dishpan hands. Anna and I had a choice—higher rent with a dishwasher or washing by hand. We chose Palmolive. At this point, I’m used to it from doing it for so long, but I swear Hunter used every single pot and pan we own. Not that there are many. We don’t exactly have much kitchen storage space. But it still takes some time and effort to get it all done. I’m not bothered by it. It just gives Hunter time to converse with his manager without feeling like I’m hovering.
As I finally finish up, I turn and wipe my hands dry on a tea towel. It appears my timing is perfect, and Hunter is done with his call. Or at least he’s no longer listening because he’s holding the phone in his hands and staring down at it.
“Hey.” I hang the towel on the drawer pull. “Everything okay?”
He looks up at me, sadness in his eyes. “Um… I have to go back to L.A.”
I feel a chill as my heart plummets. “When?” I ask quietly, afraid my voice will break.
He swallows hard before answering me. “Tomorrow morning. Eddie’s booking my flight now.”
And just like that, our little bubble of passion for the theater and each other has popped. I’ve never hated his job more.
Chapter Nineteen
Hunter
I know I’m being a moody jerk. My level of care is somewhere between “don’t give a shit” and “really don’t give a shit.” Okay that’s not true, I do care. Just not enough to not grumble at every comment and direction.
My integrity and strong work ethic are both traits I inherited from my parents and I’m proud of myself for maintaining them as I maneuver through this industry. Yet, the expectation for me to jump from weeks of time with Celeste in New York, resting and relaxing, to not seeing her and being expected to put on a happy face while my job