At eleven a.m. on a hot Wednesday morning, Fran waited on the sidewalk and tried not to pace. Chelsea was due in a few minutes, and even though Fran had spent a lot of time with her over the past ten days, she hadn’t given away any details about their date.
Chelsea had said to dress nice, so Fran had removed the dry-cleaning plastic from her blue blazer and matched it with her best jeans and a collared shirt. She was about to go back upstairs and ask Trina if she had anything nicer she could borrow when a black limousine turned onto her block.
When it pulled up, the passenger window came down, and Chelsea appeared. “Hey there, going my way?”
Fran did an awkward pose right there on the sidewalk. “Do I look okay?”
Chelsea lowered her sunglasses and gave her a smoldering look. “Good enough to eat. Get in here.”
Fran stowed the overnight bag Chelsea told her to pack in the trunk and settled in beside her. She had a daytime sophisticated lady look going on in a narrow skirt and matching jacket. The color was the exact shade of a box from Tiffany, and it suited Chelsea right down to her nude pumps. “You’re gorgeous. That outfit looks like it was tailor-made for your body.”
Chelsea preened. “Thank you. Since it’s a special occasion, I busted out the Chanel. I wanted you to like it.”
“Thank you, Coco, for giving my eyes this legit treat to look at all day.” Fran gazed heavenward for a moment before giving Chelsea another head-to-toe inspection. It was unbelievable to Fran that Chelsea had dressed with her in mind. She couldn’t stop staring. “If I forget to tell you later, I had a really good time today.”
She laughed and pulled Fran in for a lingering kiss. “You always know exactly what to say. I missed you.”
“I left at midnight last night.” Fran had spent a lot of time at Chelsea’s house ever since their script meeting a week and a half ago. The household seemed to have taken it in stride. Forge didn’t seem to mind and even Petal was tolerating her presence. Although sometimes Fran felt she was straddling the line between wanting to be with Chelsea always and forever and not wearing out her welcome.
“That was about a million hours ago.” Chelsea’s hands found Fran’s and held on to them.
But Fran never doubted Chelsea’s affection. It had only become more open and obvious with each passing day. “Will you tell me where we’re going?”
“I’ll only say that the first part of what I have planned is a bit unconventional for a first date, but I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it. After that, we’ll veer back into more ordinary first date territory.”
“Nothing is ordinary when I’m with you.”
“A girl could get used to compliments like that.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere.” Fran put her arm around Chelsea. “Stick with me. I’ll give you more than just compliments.”
“Like what? Flowers? Poetry? A new lucky hat?”
“No.” Was this the moment to tell her? “Well, I can do those too, but…I wrote something. A script. If I ever got you to say yes to going out with me, I had this very elaborate plan for our date and part of it was presenting you with this script I wrote. I actually have a bunch of things on the go that I put aside for revisions to A Love As Big As Wembley, but this one is finished. It’s called Steadfast. And I think it’s really good. Totally outside my usual wheelhouse of putting women in situations where they have to kiss.”
Chelsea sat up and faced her. “Wait. I need more information about everything you just said. But is it bad that I want to know what you planned for our date before you tell me about the script? What were you going to do?”
“I knew that going out to a restaurant was probably not going to be comfortable for you, and my place is…not suitable.”
“It would have been fine. Where were we going?”
“To my job. The Prop house.”
“Really?” Chelsea sounded intrigued.
“I earmarked all the stuff I was going to borrow. Everything was going to be from our inventory. We’d eat at a table that was used in Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood.”
“Why? Does that movie have special meaning to you?”
“No, it’s just a really nice table.”
“Got it.” Chelsea laughed. “And what would we be eating on this really nice table?”
“I went through about a hundred drafts of the menu, but my latest idea was tuna melts and champagne.”
“Yum. And for dessert?”
“Not sure. Maybe some nice Jell-O. And I was going to give you a little tour, and show you some of the cool things I’d found, and then I’d show you the shovel.”
“A shovel, huh?” Chelsea’s expression was quizzical.
“No. The shovel. Used by Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke. Because that’s how I see this script—Steadfast. For ten months I sweated over it. Honestly, I poured everything I was feeling at the time into it.” Fran suddenly couldn’t meet Chelsea’s eyes. “All the regret, and the sadness, and anger at myself—it all fueled the story.”
“Aw, Fran.” Chelsea lifted Fran’s chin, forcing her to look at her.
It made Fran want to tell her more. “This character, she could be your Cool Hand Luke. She’s tough and she’s fragile, sort of mean yet noble, restless and unsatisfied and outraged. And she’s a mom. She’s about as multifaceted as a person can be, and utterly, utterly human. And you’re the only one who can do her justice. I just know—the way you’ll play her—she’s going to live forever. I want to give you something as meaty—as worthy of you—as Cool Hand Luke.”
Chelsea pressed a kiss into Fran’s neck. “You had me at Jell-O.” She made Jell-O rhyme with hello.
Fran laughed, feeling something close to exhilaration. She hoped she and Chelsea could crack each other up for a long time to come. “What are you gonna do? I like Jell-O.”
“So I’ve heard. Now I’m dying to read it. Do not show it to anyone else, please.”
“It’s only for you. It’s a gift. Do with it what you will.”
“We’re going to have to talk about your business sense. You can’t keep giving your work away.” Chelsea kissed her again. “Can we still go on that date?”
“Now that I’ve told you all the surprises? You still want to have a meal with me in a dusty warehouse?” She hadn’t told Chelsea all the surprises. She hadn’t mentioned the view from the roof of the main warehouse, and how she would have saved that for the end, probably needing the entire date to work up the guts to say the one thing that was becoming more and more impossible to keep silent about.
“Yes, I do. It sounds magical.”
“We’ll have to arrange something soon. I gave my notice yesterday.”
“You did?”
“I’m going all in on screenwriting and my new job as co-producer. Two is enough, don’t you think?”
“As long as you still have time for me.” Chelsea snuggled against Fran’s chest, pulling her arm more securely around her.
“Always.” Fran didn’t notice the slowdown on the 405 or anything much at all for the next little while, but she did notice when they hit downtown. They passed LACMA and then made a turn onto Fairfax, and Fran’s Spidey-sense began to tingle. “Are we going to the Academy Museum? I’ve never been.”
Chelsea nodded. “You guessed it.”
“I’ve been wanting to go. This is an awesome first date.”
“Hang on, it won’t be a typical visit. Just wait. We’re almost there.”
The limo drove by the museum’s glass and concrete sphere—the city’s newest architectural wonder—and joined a queue of cars depositing passengers at the entrance to its adjacent structure, the art-deco Saban Building. They entered and moved with the tide of people, all women, into a waiting elevator.
As they were whisked to the fifth floor, Chelsea caught the eye of one of their very recognizable elevator companions. “Tessa, I’m hearing great things about your project with Gina. Can’t wait to see it.”
A flash of a movie star smile. “Thank you, Chelsea. Can you even hear yourself with all the buzz surrounding your performance in Tolstoy Was Right?”
“You’re sweet. Let’s find each other later. I want you to meet Fran.” She put her hand on Fran’s shoulder.
“Hi, Fran,” Tessa said. “See you out there.” She sauntered out of the elevator.
“Holy shit, I can’t believe she just said hi to me.” Fran turned to Chelsea. “We’re not going to the museum, are we?”
“No, this is the Academy Women’s Luncheon, and you’re my plus one.” She gestured Fran out of the elevator and pulled her to the side. “I thought I could introduce you around, help you start making a few connections. I’m in your corner now, Franny. I want to be the one backing you up on your way to success—professional, personal, and everything in between.” She paused, the sureness in her expression devolving to uncertainty. “But if this wasn’t what you had in mind for our date, we can do something else. It’s up to you.”
Fran didn’t think her tiny heart could hold all the feelings packed inside it right now. “You are amazingly thoughtful. I want to kiss you so bad right now, but I—”
Chelsea pressed her lips against Fran’s—fierce and quick and tender. “Kiss me anytime you want. You’re a part of my life now, and I kind of want to shout that out to the world.”
“I love you so much.” It came out on a sigh, and Fran couldn’t believe she had said it, here, next to the elevators with a bunch of strangers wandering past. She squeezed her eyes shut for a second before opening them to Chelsea’s reaction.
Her expression was soft, her mouth curved into a tender smile. “You look like you wish you could rewind the last five seconds.”
“I do, but not for the reason you think.” Fran grabbed her hand and pulled her away from all these annoying people, searching for anywhere with a bit of privacy. She saw a door marked Cloak Room and stuck her head in. No cloaks, no coats, and no people. She ushered Chelsea in and closed the door behind them, and then gazed at their uniformly drab surroundings. “I’ve written this scene with fictional characters so many times, and there’s a reason I never once set it in an empty coat check. But here I am, doing it for real, and—oh boy, catch your breath, Fran.”
Chelsea took Fran’s hand and placed it on her chest, right over her rapidly beating heart, as if to say I’m right here with you.
“When I imagined telling someone I love them, I thought it would happen in some beautiful place—with sweeping vistas and a warm breeze, in sunlight or in moon glow, with a bottle of champagne chilling within arm’s reach.”
“Reality can’t be stage managed like that.”
“No, it can’t. Instead of beautiful surroundings, I have beautiful you. And you are all I need. I love you, Chelsea. I’ve loved you for so long. No matter what happens after this moment, I’m glad I was able to say it, and mean it, with all the love in my heart.”
Chelsea pulled her closer. “Do you know what I planned for after this?”
“Tell me.”
“I reserved a suite at the Four Seasons, with a view and a private dinner and the champagne chilling nearby, and I was going to say the same thing.”
“You were?”
“Yes. My love for you is undeniable. I’m done denying it. In the end, not anger, not fear, not even pure bullheadedness could stop me from loving you.” Chelsea stepped back and looked deeply into her eyes. “I love you, Fran.”
“Can we just hang out in here for a while? I want to let that sink in.”
“As long as you like.”
“And are we still going to the Four Seasons after this?”
“Damn right we are. Petal and Forge are both at sleepovers. You’re not going to escape my evil clutches until tomorrow morning.”
Fran brought both of Chelsea’s hands to her lips, kissing the knuckles of one and then the other. “I see no evil clutches. Just really nice, well-manicured ones. Hey, have you ever thought of playing a villain? I bet you would tear the scenery from the walls, you’d be so good.”
“Nobody’s ever seen me that way, but I bet I could.”
“Yeah, you could. You can do anything. I see you in all the ways, and I’m going to write a screenplay for each and every one.”
“Am I your muse?” Chelsea’s smile was indulgent.
“Practically since day one.” Fran thought of how far they had come since those early days—how different life was now. But then a thought occurred to her. “Were you serious about shouting it to the world?”
“Absolutely. You make me so happy.”
“But…”
Chelsea frowned. “But what? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Fran shot a look at the door. “It’s not lost on me that once we walk out that door, we are coming out of a literal closet. If we go public, it will stir the entertainment press into a frenzy. Chelsea Cartwright in a relationship with a woman? Every outlet will be after you. The paparazzi will hound you again. I refuse to put your comfort and your safety at risk.”
“And I refuse to live my life according to what anyone else thinks. I did that once, and I will never do it again. No one dictates who I love.”
“You say that now, but think about it. Think of those times when you were surrounded by a horde of photographers. I would hate for that to happen again because of me.”
“Make no mistake, Fran. It’s not because of you. It’s because of me. You need to think about it too. Are you willing to lose a ton of your privacy and freedom because you love me?”
“I had a front row seat to what that looks like, and I can absolutely say that if I have you, it’ll be worth it. I love you, and we’ll make it work. We’ll figure it out.” She stepped back and put a hand out. “Are you in?”
“I’m so in.” Chelsea put her hand in Fran’s and it felt like providence locking into place. She eyed the door. “Are you ready to go out there? With me?”
She squeezed Chelsea’s hand. “There’s no one else I’m doing this with. Only you.” Fran took a deep breath. “We’re going to crush this luncheon.”
“Make it kneel at our feet.” Chelsea repeated what Fran had once said to her. “And after that, we’ll take this whole town by storm.”
“Together? We’re going to take the whole world.” Fran kissed her once more before they opened the door to their future.