Reel (Hollywood Renaissance #1) - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,59

of them.”

“And your father? I mean, I assume you don’t spend every holiday eating in LA’s most romantic restaurant. You have any other family?”

“My mom and dad married because she was pregnant with me, but quickly realized that was a mistake. Instead of spending half her life with a man she didn’t love, she asked for a divorce. Actually, she demanded it. He moved to South Africa to pursue some business opportunities. Remarried and started a whole new family there. Three kids I barely know.” He shrugs. “He’s okay. We’re not super close, but I see him. We talk. Mama used to say she dodged a bullet, not because he was a bad man, but because he wasn’t a great one.”

“She was a spitfire, wasn’t she?”

“She was. I’ve never met anyone who lived as freely as she did.” He toys with the silverware wrapped in his napkin. “She had lovers and never tried to hide it from me. When we needed money, she didn’t pretend everything was okay. Even when times were hard, she didn’t take photography jobs she didn’t like or believe in at least a little. She said don’t use your gift for shit you hate to survive. Work in a grocery store, pump gas, pick up trash to get by before you corrupt your art.”

“So she would not have approved of you directing ‘Grind Up On Me, Girl?’” I tease.

“Probably not.” His laugh comes quickly and goes as fast. “Artistic integrity was everything to her.”

“Wow. So that’s what it took to make a man like you.” The words just slip out, and I immediately want to retract them. I sound like such a fangirl. I’m not starstruck. I admire him. Respect him.

Okay. Lust after him a little.

He doesn’t smile or try to play off my words in the silence that elongates between us, but holds my stare with an intensity that makes my toes tingle. And as much as I wish I could take the words back, the ones that tell him too much, I don’t look away either. If I’m glass, let him see. I’ll figure out another day how to hide.

“Do we know what we want?” the server asks.

I’m so startled by her intrusion, I bump my water, but catch it before it spills.

Canon goes for the turkey dinner, and remembering Jill’s suggestion about the fish, I order the salmon crepes.

He orders something dry and white to drink. I stick to water.

“I’ve never seen you drink,” he says, sipping his. “Alcohol, I mean.”

“I drink champagne occasionally, but I’m pretty strict with what I eat and have cut out alcohol for the most part. I have a skin and hair condition that I have to manage really carefully.”

“Oh, nothing serious, I hope,” he says with a frown.

Why did I even bring it up? It’s irrelevant, as I knew it would be. Takira’s been vigilant about using natural products and monitoring my scalp for new spots. I’ve made sure to stay covered when I’m in the sun, avoid smoke, keep my diet clean, and meditate so my stress stays low. As low as possible under the circumstances, at least. As for exercise, Lucia and her choreography are the best personal trainers I’ve ever had.

“It won’t affect the movie,” I assure him. “It’s under control.”

“Neevah, I wasn’t thinking about the movie.” He shifts his gaze to the creek just beyond our gazebo. “I was thinking about you.”

A small silence pools between us, rising like the water not far away until I think it’s over my head and I can’t breathe.

“So,” he finally speaks into the tight quiet. “You’re the last person I thought would be alone on Thanksgiving.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Come on. You telling me half the cast didn’t invite you over for dinner?”

“I guess I did have a few invitations, but . . .” I break off and laugh at his knowing look. “Okay. Yes. A lot of the cast invited me over when they heard I was staying in LA.”

“You’re one of those social people.”

“And you’re not?”

He lifts one what do you think brow before we both ease into light laughter.

“I needed some time alone,” I tell him. “It’s hard to explain, but I’ve never done a film before, and to start with something like Dessi Blue—to be the lead and have people constantly needing something, expecting something. The sheer physical demand—it’s a lot. And we’re coming up on some of the toughest scenes. I don’t know all my lines for next week yet.”

I give