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“I know. You have a whole stupid reason of your own.”
Alessandro took a sprig of parsley off the side of the plate and chewed on it. The taste was so clean and fresh, and he felt so spent and grimy. “Americans are too truthful,” he said.
“Isn’t that why you came here today?” Cassidy said. “Besides, aren’t you Italian? Home of the loud arguments and waving hands and smashed plates?”
“Not in my family.” He looked at Cassidy. She was twenty years older than him, but he realized he’d come to see her as a sister and Colson as his brother. “I have family here, and you two are a big part of that.”
“Good. We love you too.”
He winced. “Americans say that too much, too.” Especially in LA, where terms of endearment were thrown around like confetti.
“Sure, in this business. But you don’t believe we can really care for each other and tell each other so?”
“What she means is,” Colson said, “when are you going to go find your gal and tell her you love her before her family convinces her to stay in Boston?”
“She will not have me back,” he said, wincing at what he had said to her. What he had believed.
“Possibly,” Cassidy agreed, making him clench his teeth. “But possibly, you great buffoon, she loves you too.”
“What am I to do? Fly to Boston and beg her siblings to give her up?” Her brother would break his arm before Alessandro got out of the airport.
Cassidy circled her finger at him. “I love this for you,” she said. “You’ve had things too easy up till now.”
Alessandro spluttered. “Easy?”
“Yep. Time for a real challenge. Go get your gal.”
♦
He had Max drive him home so he could pack. The worst part was, he had to call Yasmin.
“Hmph,” she said when she picked up.
“I am sorry.”
“You have missed two parties where I had told two very promising directors you would be.”
“I am sorry, Yasmin. I have not been myself.” Or maybe he’d been too much himself. Closing off, thinking he had to do everything alone.
“Well.” He imagined her pushing her glasses up her nose. “You’re lucky I like you.”
“You do,” he admitted, “and you know I appreciate you more than I can tell you.”
“All right, all right. I assume you called for something, not just to flatter me.”
“Yes, though I will remember to do that more often in the future. I need to get through LAX as quickly as possible.”
There was a pause. “You’re going after her?” she said.
“Yes.” He didn’t have to ask if Megan had filled her in on what he’d done. “I have many apologies to make.”
“Right. Okay, listen. I need you to stop by here first. You won’t get a flight that lands before midnight anyway. Take the red-eye tonight. You can do your big grand gesture tomorrow. You’ve forgotten about your fitting this afternoon.”
He had completely forgotten about it. He’d chosen his tux for the Oscars with Megan. They’d spent a perfect afternoon getting gelato at Ponte’s before Federica and Megan bonded over the benefits of shawl versus peaked lapels. Then Max had driven them out to a private house in the hills, where a chef had served them and them alone. Late that night, tipsy and giggling and slumped against each other in the back seat, they had come back to the house and fallen asleep on the couch like puppies. Megan had awoken next to him with her hair tangled and her makeup smudged, and he’d never seen anything more beautiful. The perfect day.
Could he still wear that tux if his trip to Boston didn’t work?
But he couldn’t stretch Yasmin’s patience any further. “I will be there. Two o’clock. Yes?”
