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“I enjoy being with you. I didn’t imagine it would involve so many kissing booths,” he said, gesturing to the one they passed. The line was impressive.
“There she is,” Hayley said, pulling him toward an intricate floral showpiece. Two matching doves stood as tall as Harrison, their beaks touching, made of vibrant purple and red flowers. They were spectacular.
“Oh, Charlie, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Oh, hey, it’s my inspiration!” Charlie said, hugging them both. “Get it? Lovebirds?”
“Still got that sense of humor,” Harrison said.
“Still got that stick up your ass.”
And okay, even he had to laugh at that.
* * *
“Stop checking your phone. Lee said we wouldn’t hear back for a few days.”
He knew that, but he couldn’t help it. One of the best scripts he’d written in years — sorry, they’d written — had kicked off a bidding war. It was why they were here, on vacation, instead of at their apartment back home.
Harrison had been obsessively checking in for days, and Lee had stopped taking his calls.
Hayley kissed the corner of his mouth, slipping the phone out of his hands while he chased her lips. “Relax.”
Up ahead was a small stage. Fairy lights were strung overhead, and a familiar musician was finishing up a song about a beach house. When the man spotted them approaching, he winked. “This one is for the lovers in the audience,” he said before leading into the Nat King Cole song Harrison remembered so well.
He held his hand out. “Dance with me.”
Hayley smiled, slipping her hand into his, the rock on her finger glittering in the daylight. He brought their hands to his lips, kissing the band.
“I have a new idea, and I want you to write it with me. It’s about a world where there is no color, only beige.” His smile widened at Hayley’s fond eye roll. “And one day, two people cross paths and find that their meeting has introduced color into their lives.”
“So it would be a modern-dayPleasantville?”
“You did say you wanted to work in adaptations,” he said, kissing her cheek.
“Ah, so you do listen,” she joked. “Does this mean” — she caught his mouth in a kiss — “that you want to write another romance?”
She tasted like sugar and tea. “I want to write my story.”
This was it, he knew. Whatever happened, wherever they ended up, it would be together.
“See,” Hayley said, swaying with him to the song. “I knew you were a romantic at heart.”
FADE TO BLACK.
THE END
