Page 103 of I Think He Knows

“No,” Lana says, so softly, so quietly, I almost don’t hear it. But as the tiny syllable touches my eardrums, the roar of sound is deafening.

I scrub my hand over my face. Suck in a breath. “We can do this, Lan. We’ve got this.”

“I don’t belong in this part of your world.”

I catch her wrist with my hand. “Llama, I don’t want any part of my world not to have you in it.”

But she’s still shaking her head.

“I need to go.” She gently places her other hand—the one I’m not holding—on top of mine, and I obligingly release my grip. It’s not like I’m going to hold her in here against her will like a broom closet psycho. “And right now,youneed to get back inside and attend your premiere. Just like you needed to go all those years ago.”

With that, she’s gone. And all I can do is stand there for a long, long moment, suddenly confused.

What the hell does she mean—Ineededto go?

Needed to go to LA? Needed to leave Atlanta? Needed to leaveher?

That’s not how I remember it. At all.

Nine years ago, I went to an audition on Peachtree Street in downtown Atlanta, where an agent gave me her card. She thought I had promise. Potential.

Her name was Elena.

I must’ve twirled the card in my hands a thousand times before Lana Mae encouraged me to pick up the phone and call her. So I did. Elena invited me to come here to LA to start auditioning for bigger roles, said that she would help me along the way.

I was so torn about going. I couldn’t imagine leaving Lana and Legs, but this was my opportunity, and Lana was so encouraging and supportive. Since her mom had died, I’d been there every night when she needed me—was more than happy to have done so—but everything about her demeanor suggested that she didn’t need me in that way anymore.

So, even though I didn’t want to leave her, I did what I thought was best. I dropped out of college, and took off for the west coast. It was hard at first, and I was surprised. Before I met Lana, I’d been so good at being alone. She’d changed me, and I was comforted by the fact that it was only meant to be a temporary move. A chance to give acting the best shot I could.

I always planned to come home… but every time I talked to Lana on the phone, she sounded like sunshine. Happy. She had her brothers, got her GED, and baby Allegra was growing into a strong, confident, sweet little kid.

As time went by, things slowly but surely got easier for me, too. I started getting callbacks. Booking roles. I got my feet under me, and, somewhere along the way, my move became not-so-temporary.

What I wanted was purpose. To feel proud of myself and like I’d achieved something. I found this in LA with my acting career.

But what Ineededwas her.

And, like I didn’t need to go back then, I don’t think she needs to go now. Things are different today. We’re no longer just friends, that much is clear. There’s no longer any good reason we should be apart. When we met, Lana was a teenage girl who was about to go through more heartache than a lot of people experience in a lifetime. And I was just a kid who kept to myself, only looked out for myself, and was desperate to prove something.

She changed me in a way I could never have imagined. And I know my presence in her life changed her, too. But, on top of that, we grew separately. Today, Lana is a grown woman who’s both resilient and remarkable. And though I will always try to protect her, she is my equal partner in whatever relationship we have. Which means no more keeping things from her…

So I’m going to give her space to process everything she’s feeling, and then, I’m going to go out there and find her and tell her everything I feel. Fight for her.

Because sometimes, fightingisthe answer. And I’ll be damned if I let anything separate us again without putting up my best fight.

And with that resolution, I step out of the closet, tripping over the damn mop as I go, so I end up stumbling out into the foyer. I must look crazed and out of control all over again, falling out of a random closet at my own movie premiere, my suit slightly crumpled. I’m sure the paparazzi are going to have a field day with this one, but I don’t care.

They can call me what they want because they’re gonna forget my name soon, anyway.

Tomorrow, I’m going home. For good.

I have a different—much better and brighter—future ahead of me with the woman I love.

36

LANA MAE

I’ve never been the one to leave.