“And I can’t say that, either. I have loved you every single day.”
“You married someone else.”
“I married him because he helped me forget you,” I said. “Not because I stopped loving you.”
I heard Celia breathe deeply.
“I’ll come to L.A.,” I said. “And you and I will have dinner. OK?”
“Dinner?” she said.
“Just dinner. We have things to talk about. I think we at least owe each other a nice, long talk. How about the week after next? Harry can watch Connor. I can stay for a few days.”
Celia was quiet again. I could tell she was thinking. I got the impression that this was a deciding moment for my future, our future.
“OK,” she said. “Dinner.”
* * *
THE MORNING I left for the airport, Max slept in late. He was supposed to be on set later in the afternoon for a night shoot, so I squeezed his hand good-bye and then grabbed my things from the closet.
I couldn’t decide if I wanted to take Celia’s letters with me or not. I had kept them all, with their envelopes, in a box at the back of my closet. Over the past few days, as I was gathering what I would take, I packed them and then unpacked them, trying to decide.
I had been rereading them every day since Celia and I started talking. I didn’t want to be apart from them. I liked to run my fingers over the words, feeling the way the pen had embossed the paper. I liked hearing her voice in my head. But I was flying to see her. So I decided I didn’t need them.
I put on my boots and grabbed my jacket, then unzipped my bag and pulled the letters out. I hid them behind my furs.
I left Max a note: “I will be back on Thursday, Maximilian. Love, Evelyn.”
Connor was in the kitchen, grabbing Pop-Tarts before heading over to Harry’s house to stay while I was gone.
“Doesn’t your dad have Pop-Tarts?” I asked.
“Not the brown sugar kind. He gets the strawberry ones, and I hate those.”
I grabbed her and kissed her on the cheek. “Good-bye. Be good while I’m gone,” I said.
She rolled her eyes at me, and I wasn’t sure if it was for the kiss or the directive. She had just turned thirteen, beginning her ascent into adolescence, and it was already breaking my heart.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said. “I’ll see ya when I see ya.”
I went down to the sidewalk to find my limo waiting. I gave the driver my bag, and at the very last minute, it occurred to me that after my dinner with Celia, she might tell me she didn’t want to see me again. She might tell me she didn’t think we should talk anymore. I might be on the flight back, aching for her more than I ever had. I decided I wanted the letters. I wanted them with me. I needed them.
“Hold on, one moment,” I said to the driver, and I dashed back into the house. I caught Connor coming out of the elevator just as I was going in.
“Back so soon?” she said, her knapsack on her back.
“I forgot something. Have fun this weekend, sweetheart. Tell your dad I’ll be home in a few days.”
“Yeah, OK. Max just woke up, by the way.”
“I love you,” I said to her as I pushed the button in the elevator.
“I love you, too,” Connor said. She waved good-bye and headed out the front entrance.
I made my way upstairs and walked into the bedroom. And there, in my closet, was Max.
Celia’s letters, which I had kept in such pri