Page 45 of A Summer of Stars

For a moment, I sat there wondering if I had been overdramatic about these tours since Abuela’s diagnosis. Actors like Caleb were a nuisance, yes, but maybe the industry was riding a new wave. One where people entered Hollywood out of passion rather than for profit and attention.

It was either that, or I had simply stopped recognizing those who cared versus those who pretended to care.

I spent so much time thinking that I missed what the woman across from me asked.

“Man.” Caleb bumped my shoulder.

“Apologies, would you mind repeating the question?” I asked, leaning forward, and fixing my pant legs. I needed to wake up.

She smiled. “Kieran, you play the main love interest in the film known for his romantic gestures. Would you consider yourself a romantic?”

The personal questions always made me uncomfortable. Nari said, “It’s what the people want.” But when it walked the line of my relationships, I expected a question about my inability to commit. I’d seen enough of the headlines by now.

“I guess you could say that. I think what I appreciate most about Theo Bennett’s character is his compassion for those he loves, regardless of the type of relationship. You’ll see that in the film with his sister and mother. He devotes a lot of his attention to their well-being, as well as his romantic love for Eliza Whitfield’s character Darcy. But I don’t think it’s because he’s a romantic. He doesn’t run to her house in the middle of the night or forget how to breathe when he sees her to be romantic. He simply loves her,” I finished, dropping my hands in my lap.

“Speaking of your main character’s love interest, there have been rumors you’ve found your own real-life Darcy recently.”

I laughed lightly. I had been briefed on these types of questions for weeks. Everything I said in regard to this relationship would be overanalyzed and therefore used to challenge its credibility. Meaning I couldn’t say anything along the lines of, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” “I disagree,” or “How would you feel if I asked—”

“I like to keep my personal life personal,” I answered with a closed smile.

“You and the infamous tennis player Luna Aldridge have been spotted together frequently over the past month. Even photographed holding hands, leaving an event together. Would you say you’re good friends?”

Jesus, la gente está invasiva.

I fixed the sleeves of my shirt.Compliment, deflect, compliment, compliment, Nari said.

“I’ve known Ms. Aldridge for many years now. She is one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met, and I’m very fortunate to know her.”

The interviewer gave me a tight smile, realizing I wasn’t going to admit to dating Luna Aldridge. Her thirty minutes were up.

Every interviewer from there on, all twenty-two of them, asked about Aldridge.

Our last conversation in her kitchen had been gnawing at me. We’ve spent so many years sharpening our words and aiming them with precision to guarantee they landed, that I never thought it’d actually make her pause. Flinch. Stare back at me, my words splayed across her face.

She had poked enough wounds that I assumed doing it back would feel satisfying. But I feltguilty.

I’m allowed to not date for love because it was the one thing that ripped me apart when I poured everything into it.Her voice had been sharp, but her eyes were glazed over with tear-filled waves. It felt like the blade had slid through my palm. I wanted to take back everything I had said. Return to memorizing the lines of her palm and the shape of her mouth as she focused on correctly using the knife.

It was sticking to me like a virus.

Catching the picture frame in her drawer, evidently something she didn’t want seen, only made the guilt simmer longer.

My entire day revolved around Luna Aldridge, and she wasn’t even here.

And it didn’t stop at the premiere either.

A benefit of being in London was the one-hour time difference from Valencia, Spain. Meaning I didn’t have to set myself a reminder at two in the afternoon to reach my family before they went to bed. But that also meant Nari would stare at me the entire time while I took my phone call because everyone was supposed to be on the carpet… according to my watch… this second.

I was in the limo in a gray satin suit, waiting for Mila to hand the phone to Abuela so I could hear about this morning’s checkup.

“Finally, Abuela.How are you feeling?” I asked. Nari’s stare softened.

“Alejandro, I am fine. You don’t need to worry,” she argued. “Mila told me you should be working now. What are you doing calling me!”

“I called to see how you were doing!”

“I am fine,” she repeated. “Where should you be right now?”