“Hmm. Did you have a good day?” I murmured, trying to make conversation. I snuggled deeper into my blanket.

“It was all right, I guess. I’m glad it’s over.” Despite his response, the tone of his voice was off - way off. I could tell he was troubled.

“Ryan, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” My eyes popped open and I sat up in bed, overwhelmed with concern about his well-being. “Something is wrong.”

He sighed. “How can you tell?” He sounded surprised that I could read him like that.

“I just can. I can hear it in your voice.”

“I’ll be all right. Sometimes my life gets freaking insane. Today was one of those days.” His voice trembled and he sniffed a few times. I could tell he was lying. He wasn’t all right.

I took a deep breath, picturing him huddled up with his head between his arms again like that first day in my stairwell.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offered.

I listened as he blew air into his phone. “Ah, I don’t know if talking about it will make a difference,” he muttered.

He and I were so much alike. Now it was his turn to sit there feeling sorry for himself.

“Hmm. I have an idea. Why don’t you crawl under your blanket and tell me all about it.” For a moment I wished I could climb through the phone to comfort him.

He chuckled lightly. “Can you hold on a minute? I need to set the phone down.”

“Sure,” I whispered. I could hear that he was shifting around. I imagined him getting undressed… the light hairs on his stomach peeking above an elastic band. I wonder what he looks like naked?

He let out a big sigh, disrupting my thought.

“Are you better?” I asked.

“Much,” he replied, but I didn’t believe him.

I took in a deep breath and exhaled roughly. “You don’t sound very convincing.”

He laughed softly. I could just tell by his lack of answers that he was upset.

“Are you under your blanket yet?” I whispered seductively, hoping that might cheer him up.

“Yes,” he snickered.

“Close your eyes… and relax. Just listen to my voice. Take a deep breath... Let it out... Just breathe.” I wanted so desperately to take his worries away. The feelings were overpowering.

“You’re lying on a soft blanket on a white sand beach. The sky above is a deep and cloudless blue...” I paused to let him soak the imagery in.

“The sun feels warm on your face... you can hear the sound of the ocean as the waves slowly roll in. You can feel the gentle breeze glide over your skin as it rustles through the trees… feel the stress leave your body… through your fingers… through your toes.”

A soft “Mmm” slipped from his throat. “This is nice.”

“Mmm, what’s nice?” I breathed out.

“This... Feeling at peace… You.”

“Hmm,” I softly sighed into the phone, happy to know my words helped him relax.

“I wish I was there with you,” he whispered.

“I wish you were here too,” I whispered softly.

After the words came out of my mouth, there was no taking them back but it didn’t matter, I didn’t want to take them back. My words came from my heart and not my head. Part of me hoped he really meant what he said.

Ryan called me three times on Wednesday just to say hello and ask me how my day was going. I was completely floored that he called me so many times.

He had talked to Cal and the plan was that the private gathering would be held next Sunday at the pub. The entire cast had been invited, but not everyone was expected to attend. The last head count was eight.

The third time Ryan called, it was midnight in L.A. and his obligations there were completed. He would be departing at noon out of LAX to Detroit and then Detroit to Providence. He’d be back in town Thursday evening. I laughed to myself that he felt the need to keep me up-to-date on his itinerary. I didn’t even have to ask; he volunteered the information first. It was kind of cute.

We were both snuggled in our beds as he filled me in on his day. He had an interview on a talk show and then a late meeting with some producer and his agent and manager about an upcoming movie project they want him to star in. Although Ryan wouldn’t directly admit it, I got the impression that some of his career decisions were being made for him and that he was just supposed to agree with what they said.

Ryan’s fame and popularity were so new and fresh that he was being swept away with it all. These movie moguls were all going to strike while the iron was hot. I didn’t need to be part of his world to recognize that. Ryan was a new toy for them; his movie made millions of dollars and it was easy to visualize the greed in Hollywood taking over like an evil succubus.