Free The Rules of Love & Grammar by Mary Simses

between my brain and the rest of my body.
    Peter turns back to me. “Is there, uh, something I can help you with?”
    “Peter, it’s me. Grace. Hammond. From Dorset High.” I look around at the other people at the table. The conversation has quickly tapered off. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. It’s just that I saw you were here and—”
    “Grace?” He stands up. “Grace Hammond? Oh jeez.” His face breaks into a huge smile, his eyes brighten, and he grabs me and pulls me in for a hug. He smells like cedarwood and rosemary and something else—like Peter. It’s all wonderful.
    “What are you doing in town?” he asks when he finally lets me go. “Do you live here?”
    I keep it simple, telling him I’ve come from Manhattan for my father’s party. “We’re celebrating his sixty-fifth.”
    “That’s great,” he says. “And how are your parents? Still in the same house? Out on the point?”
    He remembers the house. I feel a warmth go through me. “Yeah, they’re still there. And they’re fine, thanks.”
    He looks me up and down. “God, Grace, you look wonderful. Really. I can’t believe you’re here.” He reaches out and touches my arm, and I could swear we’re the only two people in the room.
    “Brooks made that decision, not me,” one of the men at the table says a moment later, and Peter looks around with a start, as if he, too, thought we were alone.
    “Hey, let me introduce you to the group,” he says. “We’re working on a project. These guys are part of my team.” He lowers his voice and leans a little closer. “I live in L.A. now. I’m here doing a movie.”
    “Yeah, I think I might have heard that,” I tell him, trying to act nonchalant as drops of perspiration trickle down the back of my shirt.
    He turns toward the table. “This is Grace Hammond. Grace and I go back to the days of middle school. We have a lot of history together.” He smiles at me. “Don’t we, Grace?”
    “Yes, we do.” I can feel myself blush.
    “This is my assistant director,” he says, introducing me to the bald man, whose name is Art. The man who looks as though he needs a shave is Jerry Ash, Peter’s director of photography. “And this is Brittany Wells,” Peter says. “One of the finest actors around.”
    Brittany gives me a tepid wave, and I recall that just a few weeks ago, I saw her in Liberty Revival, a film about a group of college kids who attempt to build a life-sized replica of the Statue of Liberty out of Styrofoam in order to win a huge cash prize and save their school from bankruptcy.
    I feel hit by a surge of embarrassment as I say hello to Melissa, Peter’s production designer, the woman he was really signaling. But I forget that within seconds, as soon as I come face-to-face with Sean Leeds. I try to say hello, but the word won’t form properly and comes out as a seagull-like squawk.
    Sean Leeds takes my hand between his, stares straight into my eyes, and says, “Hello, Grace. I’m Sean.”
    Even though I’ve heard his voice in more than a dozen movies, as well as on Stat!, the TV show where he played Steve Franklin, an orthopedic surgeon, none of that has prepared me for hearing him speak in person. His voice is deep and smooth, and his smile is disarming—even better in person than on-screen. He seems so honest and genuine that I’m caught completely off guard. I can barely think. I just stand there, holding his hand, until he pulls it away gently and says, “It’s nice to meet an old friend of Peter’s. He’s lucky to have come from such a great town.”
    I manage to tell him I love his work or something equally fawning, and then my mind flashes to Sydney Parker, the actress Sean was dating until recently, when she broke off their two-year relationship. I’d always thought she was crazy, even before their breakup, because I’d heard she demands a hot tub in her dressing room and tons of Skittles candies—but only the yellow ones. Somebody has to pick out all the