Marie’s eyes glared at me. “Whistling? Extremely good mood? He was here last night, wasn’t he?” she accused.

I couldn’t hide my smile. “Maybe!”

“No wonder you turned me down when I offered to come over.” Marie nudged me in the shoulder.

“It wasn’t planned, believe me!”

“When he calls, ask him what he did with all the cobwebs. We need to make more hats for the needy,” she said dryly. “Or did he call you already today?”

I smirked, secretly acknowledging that I spoke to him earlier at lunchtime and again mid afternoon.

Marie grabbed my elbow and uttered her words privately. “If you screw this relationship up I swear I will kill you myself!”

“Believe me, I’m trying not to!” I confirmed, returning to washing a few dirty glasses in the sink.

“So are you seeing him later? I could close for you if we’re not that busy,” Marie offered.

I wished I could take her up on that, but Ryan had other obligations.

“He’s catching the redeye to Newark tonight. He has an interview and a dinner meeting in Manhattan tomorrow.”

Marie gave me a questioning look.

“He’s doing a little press for his last film,” I muttered.

I saw the light bulb go off in her head. “Oh, Reparation, right?”

I laughed lightly from the absurdity of her knowing so many details about my boyfriend’s life.

Ryan, of course, called me later that evening.

So, are you all packed for your trip?” I asked.

“Almost. I’m packing right now. I wish I didn’t have to go to Manhattan, but at least it’s a short flight from here. You found my schedule, right?”

I smiled. Ryan cared for me to the point that he wanted me to know his entire schedule, and this was the second time he asked me if I had it.

“Yes, I have it on the refrigerator. Hopefully you can slip through the airport unnoticed.”

“That’s the plan!” he stated exuberantly.

I grabbed his schedule to review it again. Wednesday morning he had an appearance on an early morning show at seven. At one p.m. he had a photo shoot, and then last on his agenda was a dinner meeting with his manager and some producer later that evening.

He had an early flight back to Rhode Island Thursday morning.

“This schedule says you have to be back on set on Thursday. Jeez, did they even factor in a bathroom break here anywhere?” I groaned. I wondered how he could stand living such a hectic life.

He laughed. “No. I have to hold it!”

“According to this schedule, it looks like you can go to the bathroom on Saturday around eight p.m.”

“I’ll have to reschedule that. I’m hoping to have other plans,” Ryan stated, like we were having a business meeting.

“The interview on Wednesday is really early in the morning,” he groaned. “That’s going to be the killer.”

“Do you know what questions they are going to ask, or do they just spring their questions on you?” I wondered. I pictured him having to answer on the fly and how nerve racking that must be to come up with coherent replies.

“Sometimes they give you an idea of what they’re going to ask, but most of the time it’s just unscripted banter. Every one of these interviews is pretty much the same. Tell us about the movie, what’s it about, how does it feel to be playing that character. It’s all quite mundane.”

“That is until they ask you those uncomfortable, personal questions,” I joked. “I noticed you rub your forehead when you don’t like the question.”

“I do what?” he asked inquisitively.

“You rub your forehead. When you get uncomfortable or upset you rub your forehead. You probably don’t even realize you’re doing it.” I couldn’t help but tease him.

“So tell us, Ryan…” I started, using my best fake talk-show host voice. “All the women in the audience want to know what type of underwear you’re wearing right now. Or… everyone wants to know if you are dating someone. You squirm in your chair and then you rub your forehead. It’s your tell.”“

My what?” he laughed.

“Your tell, you know? Like when you’re playing poker? It’s that unconscious movement or action that lets everyone know you’re bluffing.”

“Oh, tell. Yeah, I know what that means. Great, now I’m really going to be self-conscious on stage. Not only do I have to worry about the stupid questions and my mumbling answers, I’ll be worrying about touching my face and giving my secrets away.”