There is a small slip of paper around the check with his handwriting scrawled on it. Lee – Please watch tonight. – J
Of course I will, I think, until I remember something.
My flight takes off at six.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” I say. “But I can’t. My flight is leaving at six.”
“You’re leaving?” Logan asks.
“Yes, I’ve decided to move to Honolulu with Brandon.” I swallow and close the flap on the envelope. “Tell him I appreciate the money, and wish him good luck for me.”
He nods. “All right, Beverly. It’s been a pleasure.”
I close the door and slump back against it. Then I look at the check again. Honolulu awaits. My future awaits. I have the money and ability to make a really good start somewhere new. No more dead ends. Even if Justin lied to me, at least he gave me this.
I may have been a sucker twice, in this town. But now I have the opportunity to start over. And I’m not going to blow my chance.
Chapter 22
I step out of the cab, take a hold of Brandon’s hand, grab my rolling suitcase with the other, and make it through the revolving doors of the terminal, right at five o’clock.
I know the time, because that’s when the Oscars are set to begin.
The terminal is busy this Sunday evening; people going back to where they live. Here I am, starting a new life, wearing my comfy ponytail and travel clothes, hoping no one recognizes me as the glamorous filmmaker’s wife I once was.
I approach the podium to check my bag in, then look at Brandon, who’s twisting my hand. “I’m hungry,” he grouses, looking around as I fork over my driver’s license.
“We’ll get dinner in a few minutes,” I tell him. I hadn’t had any food left in the house and there’d been no time to stop for a quick meal. “You can bring it on the plane.”
I hear a faint sound of music and look up to see a television, trained on the Oscars. It’s just starting, and the host is doing his opening monologue. The lady at the podium rolls her eyes. “I don’t know who could watch this stuff. It’s just a bunch of Hollywood a-holes patting each other on the back.”
I smile. My sentiments, exactly. Even if I happened to fall, really hard, for one of those Hollywood a-holes, I agree.
“What do you think?” she asks me, eyeing me suspiciously. “You know, you look a little like that woman.”
“What woman?” I ask, feigning ignorance.
“The fake wife of that smarmy film director. Can you believe he did that?”
I shrug. “I must have missed that one,” I say, taking Brandon’s hand and slipping away from the podium.
As I’m walking down the wide area, toward the escalators to the gates, someone appears in the revolving doors.
I have to look; everyone looks. Because it’s not often you see someone in the airport, wearing a tuxedo, breathing hard, looking wildly around the terminal.
It’s Justin.
Justin. He’s here. For me.
The second he catches sight of me, he starts to run for me, pushing through the crowd. I turn away. I start to walk toward the escalator, toward my escape from this crazy, fucked-up city, but of course he’s already seen me. He catches up to me, grabbing my arm and whirling me around. “Lee,” he says.
I look around. People are taking notice, stopping to watch. “What are you doing here?” I murmur.
“Hey, buddy,” Justin says, crouching down and giving Brandon a high-five, before putting his hands on his hips and catching his breath. “Why do you think I came?”
I shrug. If he came for me, why can’t he say that? Why is he so bad at telling people what he really thinks?
“Logan said you weren’t going to watch because you were going to Honolulu. Why?”
“Because I’m leaving. For good. I have to get out of here.”
He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”
I stare at him, waiting for a reason. Meanwhile, I can feel more eyes on us. “You’re missing the Oscars.”
“No. Fuck the Oscars,” he blurts suddenly.
I raise an eyebrow. He can’t mean that. He paid me a million dollars to help him get that blessed statue. He called it the pinnacle of his career. He can’t seriously find coming here to stand in front of me and stop me from going to Hawaii more important than his beloved statue.
He looks like he’s searching for words, his mouth forming all sorts of shapes, but nothing comes out. I’ve never seen him so flustered. His jaw works, his face is red, he’s pulling on the collar of his tux.
Finally, he pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. He holds it up to me. “My acceptance speech.”
“You wrote an acceptance speech?” I ask, surprised. He’d told me for the Golden Globes that he’d never write one, because he thought they were bad luck.
He shrugs. “Hollywood Reporter gave me a ninety-nine percent chance of winning, so I thought I’d write a few words down, just in case.” He unfolds the paper carefully and takes a deep breath.
I hold my breath, waiting for his words thanking the crew of his movie, the Academy, and so on.
Instead, he just reads, “Lee. I didn’t lie when I said I’m in love with you. I want real. I can’t be real without you because you are my real. My touchstone, the thing that grounds me. Please come back.”
He crumples it up and looks at me hopefully.
And my eyes are already wet. He’s waiting for my answer. So I say, “Well. At least it was short.”
“Lee . . .?”
My voice cracks. “You love me?”
He nods with vigor. “I love you.” He points at Brandon. “I love him. I love us. I love what we are together. Please don’t leave me.”
I’m sobbing now, vaguely aware that there’s a sizable crowd hanging on my next words, and that people have their cell phones out, snapping pictures, recording the whole thing. But I don’t care. After all, all he ever had to do is fasten those emerald eyes on me, and it made me a goner.
So I reach up, take his face in mine, and kiss him with everything I have.
And the crowd bursts into applause.
“Hey, Justin,” someone says as he lifts a giggling Brandon into his arms and hugs him tight. “Your film just won Best Sound Editing.”
He looks at me and smiles. “I think I won bigger, right here.”
Chapter 23
“You know, we could move out here, if you’d like,” Justin says from the lanai of our penthouse hotel room in Makena. He’s resting his hands on the railing, wearing only lounge pants as usual, surveying the lush scenery, but the only scenery I can’t stop staring at is the curve of his tanned back. God, he looks yummy.
And he’s mine. For real, this time.
I tie one of the cushy, hotel-provided robes around my body and pad outside, kissing his shoulder blade as I breathe in the humid, perfumed air. “Well, it’s nice. But you’d miss home.”
Not only that, I’d miss home, too.
After we left the airport, I moved back into his house, and for months, everything has been perfect. He won the statue he coveted, though he was a no-show at the awards. He keeps all of his statues along the mantle of the fireplace in the living room, and I keep joking that if he has much more success, we’re going to need to get him a display case. We’ve been working on getting Justin to be more real, and he’s making strides, every day. It’s like peeling back the layers of an onion, but every time I get closer and closer to the core, to the real Justin . . . I fall in love a little more.
And it’s never boring. This trip was a part of his nominee’s gift basket. Even nominees get some pretty fantastic swag. He’s been working so hard getting things set for the filming of The Verge, we decided to take a little break. Just the two of us.
“Well . . . snorkeling on Molokini crater is some of the best you’ll ever see. And Haleakala is the largest inactive volcano in the world. It looks amazing, like you’re walking on the surface of the moon. And the Road to Hana? The Seven Sacr
ed Pools? All of it is awesome. If you’ve never been to them, you really should go. So pick your poison.”
I sigh contentedly. “Yes. They would be fun, I guess. But I don’t know.”
We’d arrived three days ago, late at night, and went straight to our hotel. A small part of it was the long flight and jet-lag, but despite the fact that I’d once been so excited to get to Hawaii, now, I have no desire to leave the room.
Everything I want is right here.
Justin has completely disconnected from the busy Hollywood schedule, too. He hasn’t checked his phone the entire time, and for the past three days, we’ve just been strangely content, lying in bed, tangled naked together, listening to the warm rain fall on the roof. We’ve been waking up late, having long, leisurely breakfasts out on the lanai, and then retreating back to the bed to make love.
If this isn’t heaven, I don’t know what is.
But yeah, I guess we should get out. It’s finally sunny. I’ve never seen Maui before, or very much of this world, and though Justin’s been all over, he’s said it’s his mission to get me to see as much of the world as possible. And who knows if I ever will be here again? It’s supposed to be beautiful, and I can only imagine how amazing it’ll be, seeing those sights with Justin by my side.
“We have time,” I say, hugging him from behind. “We don’t leave until Tuesday.”
“I guess. But Haleakala . . . it’s a natural wonder. And nice for. . .”
“Okay, okay,” I say, “we can go. Let me just change into shorts. But really, the scenery out the window is beautiful and unforgettable enough. I don’t need anything more.”
He drains his glass of champagne, then turns as I tighten my arms around his neck and kiss him. He pushes open my robe and buries his face in my skin, kissing my chest, my collarbone, my neck. I nuzzle against him as he suddenly pulls away. “You know, on second thought. Stay right here.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He dashes inside, wiggling his eyebrows mysteriously.
What the hell is he doing? As I wait for him to return, I finish the rest of my champagne. The next time I look, the sky is darkening. Suddenly, it starts to rain. Like a total monsoon. Wind blows torrents of water into the lanai, drenching me.
I rush inside, giggling as I shut the door to ward out the weather. I shake the rain out of my wet hair and shiver. “Isn’t that what they say about Hawaii? If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute?”
Then my eyes trail down to his hands, caught behind his back. He’s giving me an innocent look. I narrow my eyes, suspicious. “What’s that?”
Suddenly, thunder booms over us. I jump just as he says, “Oh, I was waiting for a memorable backdrop. But what the hell. It might not be picture perfect, but it’ll be real, at least.”
I stare at him, confused, as he pulls the tiny box from behind his back and kneels on one knee in front of me. He lifts the lid to unveil a brilliant princess-cut solitaire in a platinum setting. Not the heavy, monster diamond he’d given me before, made for a show. This one is real, and made for just the two of us.
“Lee, you’re the woman I want to be with for the rest of my life, for real, this time. I love you. Will you be my wife . . . again?”
Lightning flashes outside, making the diamond solitaire between us sparkle. I don’t hear the resulting thunder because my heart is thudding in my chest with happiness. Tears well in my eyes. “Yes. Of course, yes. On one condition.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“This isn’t a Hollywood wedding. No helicopters or firetrucks or ziplining or any of that stuff. Just you and me and only ten other people, tops. Do you understand? And clothing is a must. Clothing is always a must.”
He grins, lifts me into his arms, and kisses me, then starts to tug on my robe. “Except now.”
I nod. “Yes. Okay. You got me. Except now.”
Epilogue
Justin
“You ready for the two-fer?” Logan says to me as I slide into the limo.
“Hey. Want to jinx me?” I growl at him, grinning, giving him a punch on the arm.
Lee is already sitting inside. Taking my breath away, as she usually does, every day. She holds my hand and tells me that this is going to be an amazing movie.
I smile at her, wanting desperately to kiss her but knowing she’s got all that lipstick on. Fuck it. Just one.
Which turns into two, and three.
When we get to Grauman’s Oriental, it’s the same old spiel. The same Hollywood people that Lee never could relate to. I’m glad Hollywood hasn’t rubbed off on her. I’m glad that she can show me another way to be: Less self-conscious. Less interested in what other people think. More willing to accept things as they are, and work with what I have.
More like her.
So fuck the lipstick. I know she wouldn’t mind. I kiss the hell out of her, and when we’re next in line to be dropped off, I pull out a handkerchief and clean us up the best I can.
When we hit the line of reporters, the reporter says, “So, is this your wife?”
Because no one really knows anymore. I was married, and then I wasn’t, and now I’m engaged. And it all has to do with the same beautiful, crazy, inspiring woman, the woman who made me want to be the one thing I never could bring myself to be: Real.
“This is the love of my life,” I say, and I kiss her again.
She really shouldn’t have worn the lipstick.
People ask me if I think I can win the statue two years in a row. I respond to all of them with the same exact thing: “Who the fuck cares?”
I have everything I want, already. The statues are just decoration. The people in my house? They’re what’s precious to me, now.
We go to the front of the theater and I announce my flick, which from what I hear, is getting all the same raves that The Last Door on the Right has gotten. But it’s getting easier. I’m not nearly as nervous about popular opinion as I once was. I even laugh at some of the critics.
Or maybe that’s just the effect that Lee has had on me.
Either way, I wrap my arm around her as the curtains open, and the show begins.
And for the first time ever, I do what you’re supposed to do at the theater.
I sit back, I relax, and I enjoy.
THE END
Another Hot Novel by Haley Pierce!!
Click HERE to view on Amazon
My brother would KILL me if he ever found out...
His best friend wants me in his bed… again.
I’ve never forgotten how he used me and threw me away all those years ago.
He was my first love and he destroyed my heart.
Now he’s traded his electric guitar in for a business suit and a BMW…
And I’m not going to lie, he’s hot AF.
And, the heated sparks flying between us are undeniable.
He’s totally off limits and giving into temptation would be ALL WRONG.
But if wrong feels so good, maybe I don’t want to be right.
But we’re really good at keeping secrets… aren’t we?
Just Fake It Page 18
