Everything sped up. There was that edge of desperation again—to make this count, make it good for her, make it mean something.
But we’d been together for months, more than just in each other’s beds. She’d been living in my heart for even longer. Just because she was here, in California, didn’t change what had come before.
Suddenly, Joan groaned beneath me, her eyes going wide and glassy as she stretched her arms up and over her head, arching into the pleasure as she pulsed around me.
I wanted to keep going. I wanted this to never be over.
But with Joan’s hands twisted in my pillow and her body straining and beautiful, I let myself go, finding release on a bittersweet rush a moment later.
Leaning down, I kissed Joan, who cupped my cheeks and bit my lip.
Grinning, I pulled away and stood on shaky legs to get rid of the condom.
In the bathroom, the backlit mirror created an ambient glow. My eyes caught on Joan’s toothbrush on the counter.
Admittedly, this cliffside house overlooking the ocean had never felt like much of a home. It was just a place to stay in between filming, something to spend my money on. But Joan in my bed, her shoes by the front door, her toothbrush in the holder right next to mine ... it felt more like a home than it ever had before.
I knew—I knew—she would never leave Kirby Falls. The farm. The mountains. The land. Her family. It was all essential—a vital part of her. But I thought it could be home for me, too.
Deep down, I worried that anywhere Joan was would be my home.
I tried to push all those thoughts away. Made sure my face was doing something normal before I stepped back into the bedroom. I didn’t want to rush her or scare her. She was already in the lion’s den, about to experience the spectacle that was my life.
What the hell had I been thinking, begging her to come to the premiere? I supposed, some part of me wanted her to understand, to get to know all the different pieces of me.
I’d wanted to be honest and upfront. Those things were important to Joan. And she’d only seen the Ian who existed in Kirby Falls. Not the hoops I was expected to jump through, the Ian who had trouble sleeping. Or Dorian and all the chaos that came with being him.
She deserved to know what she was getting herself into if we were really going to do this. To see if she’d ever want to take all of that on, in any capacity. To decide if I was worth it, after all.
I’d hoped this trip would lead to a discussion—a compromise. In between filming and spending time with Joan and Georgie, I’d been quietly researching. I’d thought about making Kirby Falls my home base instead of this picture-perfect beach house that looked like a showroom.
I could still make movies, but eventually I could be more involved in producing and directing, maybe even writing—my often-ignored long-term goals that suddenly seemed very real.
I wanted a cabin in the woods, a chicken coop, a place for me and Georgie with the people who cared about us. And I wanted to be able to talk to Joan about all this.
When I finished cleaning up, I paused in the doorway. Joan was naked, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking out the windows that faced the ocean.
As I watched her graceful, motionless form, it was all too easy to imagine a future. I thought about all those long-term goals and how they didn’t look the same anymore. A hazy future, more defined now because there was someone next to me in it.
I must have made a sound because Joan glanced over her shoulder and smiled.
I knew how she felt about change. How immovable, how unwavering she could be. And I hoped I wasn’t alone in planning for the future.
Joan
The following morning, we were both up before the sun, still running on East Coast time.
I found some coffee grounds in Ian’s fancy refrigerator, the doors of which looked just like the teak cabinets and blended right in. We sat together on the balcony and sipped our coffee in the dark. I wore one of Ian’s sweatshirts as the ocean breeze whipped my short hair around my head, but it was peaceful out here with the constant sound of the water and Ian smiling over at me.
I couldn’t get over the ocean and the sky. Everything was so vast and wide. Yesterday, I’d ignored my window during landing, so uncomfortable with the flight and altitude changes that I hadn’t even seen the beach or the water until Ian had opened his front door, and then bam. There it was. Spread out as far as the eye could see.
My home was just as big and beautiful, but the mountains made me feel surrounded, tucked in, bound to the land in a completely different way.
Here, I felt untethered, like I could fly.
As the sky gradually lightened, we walked along the beach and talked, deciding a run could wait until tomorrow when we’d caught up on sleep.
Eddie J was waiting for us inside the beach house when we returned.
