Page 195 of Love Felt Like This

“You’re early,” Beverly observes.

“I am.” Words rasp out of me.

She smiles. “It’s a nice change. You’d be surprised how many actors run late.”

I couldn’t wait to see you.

I must be staring for too long, because her lips part in confusion. I clear my throat and look around. “This is amazing, Bev.”

“Oh, thanks,” she says. “Yeah, Finch kept a lot of the old set pieces in storage, and we rebuilt a few from scratch.”

I can only imagine her awe-struck eyes when she saw the Block reconstructed for the first time. I wish I could have been there for it.

“And how are you?” Beverly asks, dipping her chin to talk to Ava.

“Daddy piano.”

“Wow, look at you saying your P’s so well!” Beverly’s smile is everything I missed and more. “I actually have a little gift for you.”

Ava’s eyes widen. Beverly steps offstage with her, and they walk over to the chair holding Bernie. In his lap is a small red car—the one Ava played with back in Elk Grove. Ava snatches it from Beverly’s hands before Beverly can even finish passing it to her.

There are so many memories with that car. So many small moments where we wrote songs while Ava raced over the cityscape rug. The days were colder, but the warmth from our laughter made up for it.

“Are you excited about today?” Beverly asks Ava. “Excited to watch your dad talk to Bernie?”

“He excited,” she answers.

I run a palm over my beard, looking to a random spot on the wall that notably isn’t Beverly, even though I can feel her staring at me. I’ve been thinking about this for months. And now that we’re here, I’m not sure what to say.

It’s fine; I have a plan.

“Let’s get started, then,” Beverly says. “Think he’s ready?”

Ava bobs her head up and down quickly as Beverly finally sets her down.

“You can put your coffee here, if you want,” Beverly offers.

I eye her cooling mug on the small table, swirled with cream and sugar, just like the coffee I brought with me.

“Thanks,” I say, setting it beside her mug.

Beverly smiles down to Ava. “Hey, we’ve got a chair just for you to watch in, A.” She walks Ava toward a short black folding chair near the camera. The back is lined with colorful pennants. “We save this one for only our coolest kids. That’s you, right?”

Ava nods, immediately falling into it.

I crouch down. “Now, you gotta stay in this chair while we film, all right? No talking.”

“Okay.”

“And if you giggle, cover your mouth, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Attagirl.”

Beverly walks to the folding chair where Bernie is slumped and tucks him into her arms like a mother might a child. She returns, along with spare papers in one of her hands. “Okay, you got the script beforehand, right?”

“Yeah, Jimmy sent it to me.”