Page 6 of Falls From Grace
Brynn couldn’t stop her slight grin this time. She imagined teleporting Savannah to LA for an instant, to see the life she’d left behind. The wealthy star would be horrified, she was sure of it.
“Believe me when I say I’m thrilled to be here,” she said sincerely. “And for the love of god, won’t someone please call me by my first name around here?”
Savannah smiled again, and wow, okay, a girl could get used to being the focus of that particular blaze of light. “Sure, Brynn,” she said lightly and Brynn was not quite prepared for how her name would sound coming out this woman’s mouth. Fine. Okay, consider her charmed. Noah was right. Perhaps Savannah was, in fact, a human. Or maybe she was just really good at being charming when she wanted to be. It was part of her job, after all.
Chester played barman and Noah said yes to a whisky, while Brynn asked for a soda water. Savannah didn’t have to ask before Chester handed her an oversized wine glass with a splash of red wine inside. Brynn managed not to snigger as Noah choked on his first sip. She knew he’d only asked for whisky to try to fit in with his idea of a country musician, and there she was, demurely sipping on a merlot. She settled in, prepared to enjoy his discomfort, but Savannah surprised her.
“Would you perhaps try the wine?” she suggested, as if it were extremely important to her. “It’s from a vineyard back home and I’m kinda partial to it.”
Brynn was pretty sure that was code for a vineyard that I own. Noah gratefully accepted, while Brynn regretfully declined. Savannah looked at her for a beat longer but didn’t push it, for which she found herself grateful.
Another three people wandered in: a fashionably nerdy white guy with vanity frames and freckles, a stunning, tall, willowy Black woman who looked like a supermodel and another white guy: an honest to god cowboy with a broad chest and boots that made him look like he’d ridden up on his own horse. Savannah introduced them as Travis, Coral and Jed, three members of her band. All three were intimidatingly cool, in a completely different flavor of cool than people in LA. LA cool was always trying to one-up you, to remind you of your place. Nashville cool was less showy and more watchful, letting you come to them. Brynn already preferred it.
Travis instantly gravitated to Noah, clapping him on the shoulder. “I love your album, man,” he said straight up. “Savannah introduced me to it and I’ve pretty much worn holes in the vinyl playing it.”
“Oh wow, thank you, that means a lot.” Noah looked thrilled. That was the thing about Noah. He didn’t do cool. Which somehow made him cooler. He and Travis looked straight up in bro-love already and the two of them took a seat on one of the sofas, happily manspreading and leaping into conversation, most likely about guitar pedals and various extremely niche bands only other cool people liked. Brynn hoped being the wife didn’t mean she’d have to join in. She shifted her weight awkwardly from foot to foot, trying to decide.
Coral wrapped her arms around Savannah and kissed the top of her head. Savannah seemed to lose the stick up her butt at her presence, her body looser and more relaxed with her friend at her side. Jed and Chester talked loudly at each other, pouring more drinks and Coral drifted over to argue exactly how a real margarita should be made (salt, not sugar, what kind of monsters- Brynn’s ex-alcoholic brain instantly supplied, as if it had mattered back then, or in fact, now). She looked up and realized she was left alone with Savannah, who was looking at her with an unreadable expression.
“So-”
“Do you-”
They both spoke at once, then paused, gesturing with politeness at the other to go first. Both opened their mouths to try again, then stopped simultaneously. Savannah laughed and Brynn found herself totally disarmed by her. She tried to remember that famous, beautiful people were professionally magnetic, but she couldn’t quite force herself to see the woman before her in that light. Savannah was barefoot, in jeans, still makeup-less with her skin glowing in the warm gold light, her head tilting slightly upward to look Brynn in the eye and Brynn found she did not want to look away.
“You go,” said Savannah, shaking her head.
“I was just going to say how beautiful your house is. Your decorator has great taste.”
“My decorator?” Savannah raised her eyebrows. “My decorator is me, so… thank you.”
“Oh.” Brynn felt stupid. “Sorry… just you know LA; even the average pet dog has his own stylist and decorator.”
“No, I get it,” Savannah said. “I’m famous, so I’m also spoiled and lack my own taste, right?”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“I’m teasing you.” Savannah reached out and touched her arm, a small smile on her lips. Brynn exhaled loudly and shook her head ruefully. “Do you?” Savannah asked her.
“Do I what?”
“Have your own stylist and decorator?”
Brynn snorted.
“Do I look like I have a stylist?”
Savannah gazed at her, considering.
“I don’t know, I’m not from LA.”
“You’re very tactful, Ms. Grace.”
“It’s Savannah, please, Mrs. Lyman.” Her mouth quirked in a way that Brynn would not hate seeing again. “So… Brynn, what’s your story?”
“My…story?”
“Who are you? What are you about?” Her tone was warm.
