disbelief, his bursting amusement, is almost enough to make me smile, too. “I was watching Sam on and off the whole time. It’s so weird to see him in person.”
I feel like a jerk: of course this would be weird for Marco, too. There would be no Tate-and-Marco if there hadn’t been a Sam Brandis first.
“Is he what you expected?”
“He’s . . .” Marco trails off, and I watch him struggle for words, assuming—based off his sly smile—that he’s trying to find a way to say how sexy Sam is without actually saying it. Sam’s size, his composure, his eyes, the rugged look of him—he’s objectively captivating. “It helps me understand, let’s put it that way.”
This makes me burst out laughing, finally.
“Look,” Marco says, bringing his hands to my shoulders, “this whole situation is so weird. Frankly, it’s beyond comprehension. But you—we—have to get it together. You are the same person who stepped out of that London hotel directly into the spotlight and never let her smile waver. You are the world’s favorite broken, manipulative, good-hearted vampire. You are the woman who made millions of people laugh as Tessa in Rodeo Girls, as Veronica in Pearl Grey. You are beloved.” He crouches so we’re the same height. “Sam or no Sam, I truly believe you’ll crush this. In fact, I have no doubt. He’s a complication—an annoyance. You’re so far above that.”
I nod in his hands. “Keep talking.”
He kisses my cheek and releases me. “Sadly, I need to hit the road if I’m going to catch my flight. Your call time is at five tomorrow morning. First up it’s you and Nick, almost exclusively. Which is good,” he reminds me. “You don’t have baggage with Nick. It’ll give you time to settle in. You have to nail this.”
I may not have baggage with Nick, but nailing it still means I have to push everything else aside. Nothing else can matter but fully becoming Ellen, and what would Ellen do in a situation like this? She’d give herself an hour to be mad, to be sad, to be whatever she needed to be, and then she’d buckle down. No excuses.
I hold Marco tightly, wondering if I made a mistake and should have asked him to stay. But no—I don’t need babysitting.
Become Ellen.
I know who can help me get my head on straight. Releasing Marco, I say, “Have a safe trip back.” I pause. “Do you know where I can find a landline?”
With a smile, he points back to the Community House. “The office, upstairs.”
He doesn’t even have to ask who I’m calling.
Mom answers on the fourth ring, harried, dropping the phone before she can even get a hello in. I imagine her in the kitchen, still using the landline with the enormous cord she winds around her hand as she chats, pacing the wide, bright room.
“Hello?”
“Mom?”
She lets out a happy little gasp. “Tatey!” A chair screeches on the tile. She’s going to sit, but I know it won’t last long.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Tell me everything.”
Before I can even get started, I hear her push back to stand. While she paces, puts away dishes, seems to start cooking something—but then heads outside into the garden, pulling the long cord behind her—I tell her about the farm, about my cabin, about the makeup trailer with Charlie, Nick, and Trey.
And then I tell her everything about running into Sam.
About how Ruby Farm initially felt like an endless expanse of green, but now feels like a tiny green bubble.
It’s weird that Mom never met Sam, has no idea what he looks like. Weird, because the sensation of seeing him again still pulses through me like an extra heartbeat, and it makes it hard to explain why it threw me to see him with a beard—because somehow I always knew he’d grow one. Weird, because it’s hard to explain how his eyes look exactly the same but entirely different, too. There’s wisdom there now that I have no part of. I’ve had meaningless flings that lasted longer than my entire relationship with Sam, so why am I jealous of fourteen years? Why am I jealous at all?
“Because he was your first,” Mom says, like I’m a sweet idiot. “Not just the first guy you had sex with—”
“Mom.”
“—but the first person you ever shared who you are with. He’s the first person you ever consciously confided in about your dad. He’s the first person who ever knew that you wanted to be an actress. And he sold that information.”