“I’ll kiss you on the cheek if you want,” Harry said, smiling.
“Not what I mean, and you know it.”
“Did you want something to happen?” he asked me.
I wasn’t attracted to Harry Cameron. Despite the fact that he was a categorically attractive man. “No,” I said. “I don’t think I did.”
“But you wanted me to want something to happen?”
I smiled. “And what if I did? Is that so wrong? I’m an actress, Harry. Don’t you forget that.”
Harry laughed. “You have ‘actress’ written all over your face. I remember it every single day.”
“Then why, Harry? What’s the truth?”
Harry took a sip of his scotch and took his arm off me. “It’s hard to explain.”
“Try.”
“You’re young.”
I waved him off. “Most men don’t seem to have any problem with a little thing like that. My own husband is seven years older than me.”
I looked over to see Don swaying with his mother on the dance floor. Mary was still gorgeous in her fifties. She’d come to fame during the silent-film era and did a few talkies before retiring. She was tall and intimidating, with a face that was striking more than anything.
Harry took another swig of his scotch and put the glass down. He looked thoughtful. “It’s a long and complicated story. But suffice it to say, you’ve just never been my type.”
The way he said it, I knew he was trying to tell me something. Harry wasn’t interested in girls like me. Harry wasn’t interested in girls at all.
“You’re my best friend in the world, Harry,” I said. “Do you know that?”
He smiled. I got the impression he did so because he was charmed and because he was relieved. He’d revealed himself, however vaguely. And I was meeting him with acceptance, however indirectly.
“Am I really?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Well, then, you’ll be mine.”
I raised my glass to him. “Best friends tell each other everything,” I said.
He smiled, raising his own glass. “I don’t buy that,” he teased. “Not for one minute.”
Don came over and interrupted us. “Would you mind terribly, Cameron, if I danced with my bride?”
Harry put his hands up, as if in surrender. “She’s all yours.”
“That she is.”
I took Don’s hand, and he twirled me around the dance floor. He looked right into my eyes. He really looked at me, really saw me.
“Do you love me, Evelyn Hugo?” he asked.
“More than anything in the world. Do you love me, Don Adler?”
“I love your eyes, and your tits, and your talent. I love the fact that you’ve got absolutely no ass on you. I love everything about you. So to say yes would be an understatement.”
I laughed and kissed him. We were surrounded by people, packed onto the dance floor. His father, Roger, was smoking a cigar with Ari Sullivan in the corner. I felt a million miles away from my old life, the old me, that girl who needed Ernie Diaz for anything at all.
