Fade Into Me Read Free Page B

foot was in the door.
    Max started leaving his original scripts lying around the studio—in various conference rooms, mail-slots, under windshields of cars parked in spots that were marked with the names of bigwigs.
    That’s how he sold his first script. He was a true self-made screenwriter, without an agent, and all before he had turned twenty years old.
    By the time he was twenty-five he had three blockbuster films, an Oscar nomination, and the next step was moving into directing and producing. But he hadn’t been happy since.
    “And,” he told me, “to this day I’ve never told my mom that I knew about my dad’s cheating.”
    “You could have ruined him.”
    He nodded his head. “I know. But it would have ruined my mom, too. But she’s happy now. She lives in Thousand Oaks. Not too far from me, but not too close, either. She didn’t want to be right in the heart of all the Hollywood action.”
    “And your dad?”
    “Haven’t heard anything about him in years.”
    We were getting tired of sitting at the table, so Max suggested we take a walk through the vineyard. It occurred to me that throughout the whole story he had just told me, he didn’t mention any girlfriends.
     
     
    FOUR
     
    Rather than go out to eat, Max grilled salmon and made a giant salad, and we ate on the floor of the lodge. The original plan was to have an evening picnic, but the weather brought an unexpected—and rare—rain shower.
    Max’s culinary skills turned out to be as impressive as everything else he did. The food was delicious, and the setting was romantic. Just the two of us sitting on a large blanket, a roaring fire going, and Harry Connick Jr. tunes providing the soundtrack.
    Later, Max wowed me again. But this time we were in his bed. I had three orgasms to his one, and I teased him later that it seemed like a fair ratio.
     
     
    Sunday morning, I woke to an empty bed. I called out for Max, thinking he might be in another room, but got no response. I got out of the bed, wrapped the sheet around me, walked through the den, and looked out on the large deck. No Max to be seen.
    I looked around for a note. Nothing.
    I was beginning to worry when I heard the door open and he came in, sweaty and catching his breath. “Morning.”
    “Hey. Where were you?”
    “Went for a run. I was about a mile away when I realized I should have left a note in case you woke up. Sorry.”
    I moved toward him.
    “I’m all sweaty.”
    “I don’t care,” I said, wrapping my arms around him. The sheet dropped to the floor, leaving me standing there naked.
    Max kissed me on the cheek, pushed me away gently, looked me up and down and said, “You’re wearing my favorite thing.”
    Before I could respond, I heard my cell phone ringing. I got it out of my purse. It was Krystal calling. If she hadn’t been my roommate, I might have just let it go to voicemail. But I answered it.
    “Are you okay?” she blurted.
    “I’m fine. Why?”
    “You haven’t been here all weekend. I was getting worried.”
    I didn’t have the speakerphone on, but the volume was loud enough and the room was quiet enough so that Max could hear Krystal. I looked at him and rolled my eyes. Krystal, worried about me? I was surprised she even noticed I was gone.
    “Nothing to worry about. I’m in Napa.”
    “Ohhh, nice. With Max?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, I’ll let you get back to doing him—I mean, I’ll let you get back to him.” She laughed.
    “Okay,” I said, “I’ll be home later sometime today.”
    We stayed in Napa for lunch and went on a private tour of one of the oldest wineries in the area, escorted by the founder’s grandson who looked to be about Max’s age or early thirties at the most. His wife joined us, and more than once I caught her looking at Max in a way that was pretty risky considering her husband was standing right there.
    It might have bothered me at some point in my life. Maybe even just a few weeks ago. But I was getting more