“Tl kiss you on the cheek if you want,” Harry said, smiling. “Not what I mean, and you know it.” “Did you want something to happen?” he asked me. I wasn’t attracted to Harry Cameron. Despite the fact that he was a categorically attractive man. “No,” I said. “I don’t think I did.” “But you wanted me to want something to happen?” I smiled. “And what if I did? Is that so wrong? I’m an actress, Harry. Don’t you forget that.” Harry laughed. “You have ‘actress’ written all over your face. I remember it every single day.” “Then why, Harry? What’s the truth?” Harry took a sip of his scotch and took his arm off me. “It’s hard to explain.” “Try.” “You’re young.” I waved him off. “Most men don’t seem to have any problem with a little thing like that. My own husband is seven years older than me.” I looked over to see Don swaying with his mother on the dance floor. Mary was still gorgeous in her fifties. She’d come to fame during the silent-film era and did a few talkies before retiring. She was tall and intimidating, with a face that was striking more than anything. Harry took another swig of his scotch and put the glass down. He looked thoughtful. “It’s a long and complicated story. But suffice it to say, you've just never been my type.” The way he said it, I knew he was trying to tell me something. Harry wasn’t interested in girls like me. Harry wasn’t interested in girls at all. “You're my best friend in the world, Harry,” I said. “Do you know that?” He smiled. I got the impression he did so because he was charmed and because he was relieved. He’d revealed himself, however vaguely. And I was meeting him with acceptance, however indirectly. “Am I really?” he asked.