Hollywood's Secret Baby

Chapter 12

After parting ways with Sarah Park and dropping our bags at Cory’s house, the three of us walk the hundred yards to the beach.

It’s not the main strip of sand populated by tourists and discarded beer bottles, but a private little cove that feels completely separate from the outside world. Curling my toes into the warm sand, watching the sun set on the watery horizon as Lizzie chases ghost crabs that pop in and out of their holes as the waves roll back out, I feel a peace that has washed over me only a couple of times in the past decade. Usually, I’m so busy just trying to survive that I have no time to stop and appreciate my existence. I’ve always been too tired to feel thankful, but thanks to flying first class, even after a flight that took me from the East coast to the West, I’m well rested. The sun I watch now is the same one I woke up to this morning, but everything else is different.

“I never asked if you ever made it out to California before this,” Cory asks. His hand holds mine as we both let the rising tides wash over our feet. We’re carrying our shoes in the other hands, following the coast just at the border where docile waves meet sand. Lizzie runs ahead of us and then right back whenever she finds a seashell. Anyone walking by would mistake us for the happiest family in the world. But would they be that wrong?

I shake my head. “Never. I’ve been so busy working, saving money for our trip to Disneyland. Never had a chance to travel.”

“Not anywhere?”

Now I’m actually embarrassed. “The truth is, I’ve barely made it out of the state these past years. And even then it wasn’t far.”

Cory has stopped dead in sand. The next wave is larger than its predecessors, washing up mid-calf, soaking my jeans. “That’s completely unacceptable,” he says. “I can’t have my female lead being someone who hasn’t even left the country.”

“Sorry,” I say. I hadn’t meant to deceive him. “I guess I just—”

He turns to me and places a kiss on my forehead. It’s gentle. “I’m glad I found you when I did. Or who knows how much of your life would have gone wasted while you planned and planned. It’s about time you started living!”

With this he places one arm around my shoulders and bends down to grab me behind the knees with the other. He lifts me up and I’m squealing and laughing and clutching at his neck. “What are you doing?”

“I’m living in the moment, girl. Because that’s what life’s all about. You can’t live if you don’t feel something. Come on, Lizzie!”

He’s walking deeper into the water, Lizzie plodding along right behind, shouting she’s laughing so hard.

“Wait!” I shriek, now too aware of his intentions, but it’s too late. One second I’m warm in his arms, and the next I’m submersed in the ocean water, a wave rolling over me and sand between my toes as I find my footing.

I come up sputtering while Cory laughs. But his smile fades as a devious thought pulls at the corners of my lips. I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his waist and pushing him back. We’re horizontal for just a moment before we both break the surface. He wipes at his eyes and slicks back his hair.

“You two are silly,” Lizzie declares, her upper half still unacceptably dry.

“Oh, we’re silly, are we?” I ask with a devious tone to match my smile. She shrieks as I grab her and fall back into the water together. We come up laughing and sputtering. Then we’re standing there, waves breaking on our waists, the sun to our left.

“Do you feel alive yet?” Cory asks.

I definitely feel wet. A tiny bit cold. But what I don’t feel is worried. For the first time, there’s no checklist in my head of all the things I still need to complete before my head hits the pillow. I’m not calculating how much money I have left in my monthly budget and whether I can afford to stop and buy a latte.

This moment has consumed me. Cory has consumed me.

I lick my lips before saying, “Yes.” Then Lizzie and I tackle Cory together.

Ten minutes later, we’re walking across the sand, our clothes plastered to our bodies. Fifteen minutes later we’re dripping on his kitchen tile.

“Lizzie’s room has a shower in it,” Cory says helpfully.

“Perfect. Lizzie. Get washed up. Brush your teeth and get ready for bed. I’ll be down in thirty minutes, okay?” She’s rushing out halfway through my instructions, so I yell out after her, “And don’t forget to dry your hair! The hairdryer is in your—” And I hear her door slam shut, so I finish to myself, “—suitcase.”

Then I’m shivering again, looking to Cory. “What about me?”

“You can use my shower. It’s up the stairs.”

“What about you?”

“I can wait.”

“You can wait? You’ve only got two bathrooms in this huge place?” I say looking around and admiring the open-floor planning. Altogether, his place has got to be at least five or six times bigger than our place back home. The living room is as large as our whole house, and the ceiling extends up about twenty feet, taking up both the first and second floors of the house.

“Four bathrooms, but two of them only have toilets and sinks. This place is geared more towards entertaining guests who go home after the party.”