Free Ethan by Rian Kelley Page A

be,” he said. “I’ve surfed eleven oceans and they’re all different but all rejuvenating. How ‘bout you?”
    She sh ook her head. “This is it. The Pacific. I was too busy building my career.” A frown pleated her brow. “I guess I missed out on a lot of things.”
    “Would you change anything?”
    “I am changing things,” she reminded him. “But the past? No. I love my job. There’s nothing like putting words on paper and then seeing them brought to life on film. And I get to do that. I get paid obscenely well for the privilege, too.” She turned toward him, her eyes sincere. “I know how lucky I am. I worked hard for it and maybe I gave up too much—we’ll see—but I get a lot in return.”
    “And you’ll get your baby.”
    She nodded. “I will.”
    “So maybe it won’t be so bad, doing without a husband?” he posed.
    Her lips pursed as she thought about that. “My parents have a great relationship. They’re friends and sparing  p artners. Lovers but equally passionate about their individual pursuits. I’ve always wanted to find that. I don’t want to think about that never happening for me.”
    He’d never had anything like that. Not with Tina. Certainly not since. When he was married they were always playing a game of catch up whenever he was on leave, or managed to get a brief stateside assignment—until one of them took their piece off the board. He thought it was probably him, but didn’t want it to be. He’d pledged his heart to Tina. Had he not fulfilled his promises?
    “And you never came close?” he asked.
    Shae thought about that—he could see the sunlight and shadows in her eyes.
    “I thought I had.” She smiled with fondness. “He was a writer, too. Still struggling.”
    “But you had already arrived?”
    “Pre-Oscar,” she told him. “But I was sought-after. Producers were running storylines by me, courting my interest. I had my pick of projects. And enough clout to change things as I saw fit. It was a great place to be.”
    “Unless your love r is still pounding on doors.”
    “Yeah.” Her smiled dipped and Ethan would swear the sun had slipped deeper into the horizon. “It’s no fun when one of you shines and the other is still undiscovered gold.”
    “The pressure split you up?”
    Shae shook her head. “It would have, I’ m sure. But we never got to that point.” Color tinted her cheeks but she looked him squarely in the eye when she confided, “He used me. As soon as he got ‘the call,’ I was history.”
    “Idiot,” Ethan said. He reached out and trailed his fingers from her shoulder to her wrist. “And blind, too.”
    She agreed. “All he could see was success.”
    “Did he find that?”
    “Not then.” She shifted on her board as the water undulated beneath them. “Not that I’ve heard about since.”
    Ethan nodded. “Success is often determined by a person’s character.” But not always. He knew of several lesser life forms that were doing well in Hollywood.
    “I like when that happens,” she agreed. “I remember standing under the stars and begging for my lucky break, but it took a long time and a lot of failed proposals before it came.” She looked up at him. “How about you?”
    “I started as a consultant, working on smaller projects at first. But it didn’t take long for word to spread. I became the military expert of Hollywood. There aren’t too many of us, so I don’t know how big an accomplishment that was. But it gave me the in and the right people knew my name, so when I started bidding on bigger projects, for better positions, it paid off.”
    “ What came first? Director, producer—?”
    “ Director. And only after I put up a few indies, pulled in a few awards at Sundance and Cannes .” He eased closer, adjusting as the current pulled at their boards. “But you’re right about having your vision realized. There’s nothing else like it.”
    They turned their boards and settled into the cradle between waves,