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“Reece, what in the world? You terrified her,” I whisper at him.
“Good. She knows that she should serve you first. The women at the table always get served first here. She must be new.” The muscle in his jaw flexes.
“Reece, I didn’t even notice. Give her a break, it’s not exactly an easy, high paying job. Who knows what her day has been like? Maybe she’s got a sick kid or a sick parent. Or maybe she’s just an asshole,” I add trying to lighten the mood.
He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I just want today to be good for you.”
I tilt my head at him. “I’m having a great day,” I assure him with a smile.
“So, tell me about swimming. I watched you swim in the Olympics.” I blush when his smile turns knowing. “I mean, I watched everyone, but I remember you. All your gold medals. It was so exciting to see an American on the top of that podium.”
Reece looks thoughtful. “So, you think of yourself as American?” he asks, seeming to be genuinely curious.
But that question hurts, especially coming from him, one of the DREAMERs’ biggest allies.
“I don’t think of myself as an American. I am an American. This is my country. even if they don’t want me,” I say to him,
He muffles a curse and takes my hands, I glance around the restaurant immediately, wanting to make sure no one’s watching us.
“This is the most private table in the entire restaurant, no one can see us clearly unless they’re standing right in front of us.” Reece’s voice has a tinge of irritation. “And that was a stupid, insensitive question. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me when you started swimming?”
He looks relieved by the subject change and I know I am. I don’t want anything to put a damper on today.
“I was swimming before I could walk. My dad’s Greek. He comes from a family of sailors, and he insisted that I learn how to swim. And I love the water. There’s something about being immersed in it that makes me feel invincible.” He laughs at himself. “I know that sounds ridiculous. But it’s true. And when they realized I was fast, they put me on a team. My parents tried to encourage my love of film and I knew that they’d expect me to join them in the business when I was old enough. I interned at Artemis every summer from the age of fifteen.” He laughs ruefully.
“I started in the package delivery room. As long as I did that internship, they let me swim. The only other rule in our house was that I needed to keep myself out of the press. I had no interest in that life anyway, so that didn’t feel like a sacrifice. Sophomore year of high school, I was recruited by a coach who’d come to one o
f my meets. My parents agreed to let me work with him as long as I kept my grade point average at school above a 3.5. So, I did. That was good enough to get into UCLA which also had a competitive and well-funded swimming program. I swam in my first Olympics my junior year, but I took a year off to train. I promised my parents I would go back and finish my degree.”
His eyes drift a little. “Winning gold was so unexpected. Even though I’d been working hard that year and I knew I was competitive for a medal before I got in that pool, winning gold was surreal.” The proud grin falls a little as he continues.
“Gold brought the spotlight and people all over the world started asking who I was. I went from Reece Carras the swimmer to Reece Carras the Olympic Gold Medalist and son of ‘Hollywood Royalty.’ And the rest is history.”
“Wow, how conveniently you erased me from your life history.” I look up to see who the owner of the sultry, slightly accented voice is and see Fabienne standing there, her perfectly styled eyebrows raised. I’d been so absorbed in Reece’s story, I hadn’t even heard her walk up.
“Hello, Reece. I was just sitting down to lunch when Martha Tierney told me you were here.” She looks pointedly at our joined hands and I immediately start to pull my hand back.
He tightens his hold on it.
“Fabienne,” Reece says not hiding his irritation.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me? This is actually the second time we’ve met, after all. I always seem to catch you two when you’re having a moment.” Her tone is pleasant, but the expression in her eyes is anything but.
Reece sighs, gives me a reassuring smile, and then looks up at her.
“This is Lucía Vega. She’s the author writing the screenplay for a project we’re developing. Lucía, this is Fabienne de Olivera.” His use of her maiden name must annoy her because her eyes narrow at it. “Thank you for stopping by to say hello,” he says in a tone that is just civil.
She turns to face me and says, “Enjoy your moment while it lasts.”
“Goodbye, Fabienne,” Reece says, his tone making it clear that she was being asked to leave.
“See ya,” she says with a cold smile. And then she turns and strolls away. I stare after her and think that for a woman who was blessed with so much physical beauty and natural talent, she seems pretty miserable.
“I’m sorry about that.”
I don’t say anything, but I’m curious about how someone as conscientious and kind as Reece was married to someone who’s the exact opposite of those things.
