Fall for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Thirty-Four

Willow

Our trip ended almosttwo days after we spoke to my father. Surfing happens in Puerto Rico, instead of a resort in Brazil. Hunter asked for a suite for us. We didn’t do much talking unless we count the dirty talk.

Two days later, we boarded the jet, and a few hours later, we arrived home. Jensen picked us up from the airport. When the service car pulled over in front of our building, it was a bittersweet moment. I know I’ll see the guys often, but after we spent so much time together, we bonded and became close.

I am going to miss seeing the same faces, listening to the same laughs, and the same complaints every day. It’s okay—I have lots of things to keep me busy. I have to practice for an audition that my agent booked for next Monday. Also, Transcendent Productions, the company I’m working with, sent the script for next season’s show. It’s a sitcom called “Life or Something Like That.” It’s funny, diverse, and touches on problems that society tries to overlook. Television wasn’t part of my career plan, but this production company is so easy to work with and understanding. They always promise to adjust the filming schedule for my theater schedule. Just like they do with all their other actors.

“I’m leaving, Wills,” Hazel announces.

Lifting my gaze, I’m surprised to see the businesswoman version of my sister.

“I thought you were taking a nap,” I tell Hazel, who is walking toward the elevator wearing a black vintage dress and a pair of high-heeled sandals I plan to steal for my audition. Her hair is curly, covering her shoulders, and she’s wearing a light base of makeup. “Where are you going?”

“My assistant called.” She calls the elevator. “There are a few emergencies that need to be taken care of. I’d rather do it from my office.”

She tilts her head to my iPad. “Anything you can disclose about the upcoming season?”

“Of the show?” I twist my lips giving her a you’re not going to find out look. “Nope.”

“Can you tell me if Jorge is leaving?” She has a crush on that actor, or maybe it’s the character. Either way, I promised to introduce her to my coworkers during next season’s filming.

“I can’t say a thing.”

“Ugh, I can’t wait until . . . when are you guys premiering the second season?”

I shrug. “They haven’t told me. But they sent a three-season contract.”

“As in there’ll be three seasons?”

Shaking my head, I smile at her. “As in there’ll be five seasons, I already signed for the first two seasons, remember?”

She claps excitedly. “Hold that thought, and tell me more when I come back.” She steps into the elevator, leaving me to read.

Hazel has never been excited about my work. Not because she didn’t care, but because we never took the time to sit down and talk about our careers. I still don’t understand exactly what it is that she does, since she also works for Scott. Our relationship has evolved, and for that I’m thankful. Everything that’s happened lately is good. My grandfather and I have a good relationship. Not as amazing as the one he has with Hazel, but I think that’s because of her character. She’s more of a hugger than I am, and they have lived together for longer.

As I go back to my manuscript, an email notification pops up. It’s from Grant, my father. As promised, Dad received a phone and a computer when he arrived in Mexico. Harrison gave us the phone number and his email address. Mom didn’t want to have her own. They can share. I’m not going to explain to her that sharing an email address is a little creepy. It’s like sharing your toothbrush. One time is okay-ish, but after that, you have to get your own.

To: Willow & Hazel

From: G. Beesley Jr.

Subject: Visit

Girls,

I heard Willow’s voicemail, and it saddens me that I won’t see you this summer. Maybe it is for the best. Your mother is still upset about Brazil. I’m reading the books you suggested, but going to a doctor isn’t possible. The psychologists and psychiatrists here don’t speak fluent English. Going into the city is too much for your mother to handle. The traffic is impossible, the sky is polluted, and the people aren’t friendly. I have explained numerous times to her that people don’t walk through the streets waving at everyone like she does. But it’s not worth the fighting to convince her that not everyone is like her.

Thank the Everhart boys for their help and say hi to their father. Christopher and I used to go to the same school. If we ever go to New York, I hope to see him again and meet his wife.

Please, don’t stop writing. I like to hear from you.

Love you,

Grant.

I stareat the email wondering how long ago my father disconnected from his own father and the life he lived in New York that he doesn’t even realize Christopher and Charlotte died in the 9/11 attacks. I want to search around the house for pictures of Dad, try to learn about his childhood, and picture him like a boy who once belonged to a family. Does he miss that?

The doors of the elevator open, and my grandfather steps into the apartment. His smile widens when he sees me.

“I heard you were home, and I had to come by.”

“Gramps.” I open my arms and go to him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He pats my back. “How are you?”

“Tired. We worked a lot and slept too little.” I tell him everything about our trip. My version, I’m sure he has heard Hazel’s already. If not, he will once she’s home.

We go to the kitchen as I continue telling him about our visit and the children. Also, about his son. He listens while I prepare him a cup of coffee and he drinks it without interrupting me. Once I’m done, I drink an entire glass of water. I can’t believe I was chatting for about an hour, and only paused a few times.

“I’m glad to hear he gave you an explanation,” he finally speaks. “Your grandmother and I tried so hard to help them. Maybe our first approach was what distanced them from us.”

“First approach?”

“We ordered your father to leave her. She didn’t look like the kind of girl we would’ve wanted for our boy.”

“How so?”

He shakes his head. “It was another time. Class, money, education. All of them mattered more than knowing if the girl was kind, loving, or a good person.” He places his empty mug on the counter. “After that, anything we said about her wasn’t welcomed by your father. He knocked her up, and she didn’t want to marry.”

“But they were living together.”

“I understand it now. Back then I was blinded by the social implications.”

He gives me a sad smile. “I’m just glad that my girls are home. What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Whatever you want to do, Gramps. You deserve to have an entire day dedicated to you.”

“I was promised the weekend.” He smiles at me. “Now that I had a few minutes to see you, I must go back to work.”

“Dinner tonight?” I ask, walking behind him.

“Yes, sweetheart. Make sure your sister gets out of the office, too. Knowing her, she’s going to try to tackle that to-do list in one day.”

I wave at him as the elevator doors close. It’s nice to know that someone loves me, that he cares enough to leave his office to come check on me. If things never work out with my parents, I don’t care. I have my grandfather who will do almost anything for me.