Social Media

by JA Huss

  “Thank you. You’re a good friend, Marjorie. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but you’re fair with me. And that’s all I can ask for.” She smiles in response but his attention is already back to me. “Where’s your car, Grace?” Vaughn asks. “We need to get out of here.”

  “Level three.”

  “We’ll leave it here and pick it up tomorrow.”

  And then I am ushered into the Porsche and I buckle myself in as Vaughn makes his way around to his side. He gets in and starts the engine as he drags his own belt across his shoulder.

  “I just want to say—”

  “No.” I stop him with a hand on his leg. “Please, don’t apologize. I love you, and that’s all there is to it. My love is not conditional on how you acted in the past. Just like your love is not conditional on what happened to me in the past. This is us, Vaughn. Like it or not. This is us. I am that little girl who watched her parents murdered in front of her and was brutalized for eight months by a crazy man. And you are that asshole who used women for sex and treated them like possessions. But that’s not who we are right now. People grow and learn. I don’t see you as the controlling asshole I met on the beach. I love you for the man you are today.”

  He puts his hand over mine and squeezes, picking it up in the process. He raises it up to his mouth and presses his lips on my palm, ever so softly. “I love all parts of you, Grace. There is nothing about you I’d change. I love all the parts.”

  Chapter One-Hundred-Eleven - Grace

  #LifeIsTooShortToBeMiserableLikeYou

  THREE WEEKS LATER

  OF all the words Vaughn Asher has given me over the course of our relationship, it’s the ones back in his Porsche when we were leaving the Black Bash that stick with me. He loves all my parts.

  I love all his parts too.

  I know it was wrong for him to keep that video of DeeDee Cisco being abused from the police. But Marjorie and Everyday Celebrity Magazine took possession of it and used it to reopen the case of her death. Frankie Miller and Carey Keefe were both arrested last week.

  Buzz Hollywood filed for bankruptcy.

  The article Marjorie wrote for her magazine went to print two weeks ago and boy, you could almost hear the cheer coming from every Hollywood star who’s ever been hounded by the media.

  That’s not to say they are all bad. Marjorie, for instance, is not bad. And Amy Stratton, the woman who hated Vaughn so much and who went to extraordinary lengths to ambush him with those ex-girlfriends at the Black Bash… she’s not evil either. She was looking for justice.

  I hope she gets it with a new trial.

  As for me?

  I’m still looking for my purpose, but I’m getting closer. Rosa, that pregnant girl I picked up when I was lost in LA, inspired me. She made me think of all the times when I felt desperate as a teen. I was never pregnant and single at eighteen. And I got really lucky with a new family and a new life.

  But it was a struggle. And there were many times when I just needed a little extra help. Bebe, of course, was that help most of the time. But I got other help too. Scholarships, for one. Obviously I never sold our farm to pay for college. I told that lie about selling a house to shut people up.

  The truth is, I got a scholarship from the Colorado Sibling Fund. They are a non-profit organization who provide support for people whose siblings have been lost due to violent crime. They came to see me in the hospital that first year I was back. Before I ever got adopted, even. In fact, they were the ones responsible for bringing me out of my funk. People came to see me and talked about how they lost their siblings too. I wasn’t very nice to them, but they came anyway. And looking back, that was a turning point for me. They kept in contact with me, offering me that college scholarship when I was doing my senior year of homeschool.

  I had a lot of help. So now it’s my turn to pay it back. I took all that money that Vaughn was putting in my bank account and gave it to the charity that was helping Rosa.

  And then I decided to start a new non-profit. One that will teach inner-city girls to defend themselves if they are ever attacked. No one should have to go through what I did. No girl should ever feel helpless. They may not be able to win all the battles they will fight, but they need to have a fair chance.

  That’s the mark I want to make on this world. To help people have a fair chance.

  I think I’m over the past now. I think it’s time to let it go. And that’s why I’m sitting outside my Aunt Rachel’s house in northeastern Colorado.

  I turn the car off and wait. It doesn’t take long before the curtain is parted and I see her sour face peering out at me. I don’t want to go inside. I want her to come to me. And if I have to sit here all day, I will.

  It takes her twelve minutes, but she finally emerges from the front door.

  I get out of the car and clutch my winter coat tightly around me as the cruel prairie wind whips past my face.

  “What do you want?” she calls out as she steps down off the front stoop. “I told you to stay away from us.”

  I reach into my pocket and pull out the envelope. “I just wanted to give this to you.”

  She takes a few steps forward. “What is it? Court papers?”

  “No.” I shake my head at her. “Open it.”

  She eyes me suspiciously, but she stretches out her hand and I place it in her palm. Her wary look never falters, even as she opens the envelope, removes the papers, and reads them.

  “Why?” she finally asks.

  “Because…” I take a deep breath. “Because I’m not Daisy Bryndle. I’m Grace Kinsella Asher. And that farm does not belong to me.”

  She stares at me, but her frown never wavers. “You want me to say thank you?”

  “No.” I shake my head again. “I just want to give that to you and say goodbye.” And then I turn and walk the few paces to my rental car and get back inside.

  She watches me back out of the driveway, but she never lifts her hand to wave.

  I’m not sure why she blames me for what happened. I was a child and did the best I could. But it’s not worth my time to even worry about it anymore.

  Let her have the farm. I don’t want it and hopefully this gesture will help her move on as well.

  No one should spend so many years being so miserable.

  Epilogue - Grace

  #PerfectionComesInManyPackages

  ONE WEEK LATER

  “I’M home!” I call out as I enter the house. “Vaughn?” His car is in the garage. I know he’s here, but the house is almost dark. And too quiet for someone to be here. It feels… empty. I make my way to the kitchen and set down the bags of groceries. “Vaughn?” I try again.

  That’s when I notice the note on the fridge. Only the light over the oven is on, so I can’t make out what it says from here.

  I sigh. “It’s Christmas Eve, for fuck’s sake.” The movie was supposed to wrap last week, but they’re behind schedule. I didn’t figure they’d be this behind though. I’ve kept myself busy with work all week to keep my mind off our upcoming vacation to Saint Thomas, but the truth is, I’m so excited I can’t stand it.

  I put the groceries away and then grab the note and turn on the overhead light.

  Good evening, sweets!

  I smile so hard at that. God, I love him.

  I got home early, so I decided to go on ahead and start our vacation without you. Don’t worry, there’s a driver waiting for you outside.

  I run over to the front door and peek out. Sure enough, there’s headlights shining in at me. I look back down at the note, biting my lip to stop the smile. What is he up to?

  He will take you to the plane and I’ll see you in a few hours.

  Love, Asher

  Fucking Asher.

  P.S. I have picked out your clothes. They’re in a box on the bed.

  Hmmm. I run to the bedroom and see the box. It’s just like the one he sent me on Saint Thomas. I’m so excited to go back there and relive our first date. I chuck
le a little at that.

  I want to do all of it. The beach. The forest. The restaurant—minus the parents, of course. They won’t be there. And the fun spanking I never got. I’m so excited!

  I pull on the black ribbon wrapped around the shiny white box and it dissolves into a puddle of satin. I lift off the lid and the paper inside makes a little whooshing sound.

  Inside is… not what I expected. It’s the blue dress I wore to Kristi’s rehearsal dinner in Vegas. I lift up another layer of paper and find my crappy Target shoes. What the hell?

  My cell phone rings in the other room, so I get up and race into the kitchen to catch the call. Vaughn. “My prince?” I ask the phone.

  “The one and only,” he says back. “Did you find my gift?”

  “I did. But it was not what I was expecting.”

  “Hmmm. You need to trust me. Don’t pack anything, it’s all taken care of. I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

  And then he hangs up.

  “More like a shitload of hours,” I tell the silent phone. I pout a little, unhappy that I have to travel all the way to Saint Thomas alone. But I don’t want to spoil his preparations, so I put the dress on and manage to drag the zipper up after contorting myself into a pretzel.

  I slip into my heels and grab my purse.

  The driver takes me to the jet and I wonder, if I’m on the jet, how did Vaughn get to the island? But I don’t ponder too much. I’m tired from work, and there’s champagne chilling in the bucket next to the seat I like to sit in when we travel.

  The staff pours me a drink and offers me food once we take flight.

  I accept it gladly. Because I’m starved. And then, after about thirty minutes, I kick my shoes off and settle under a blanket to sleep away the long flight.

  “MRS. Asher,” the attendant says, shaking my shoulder gently. “We’re here, ma’am.”

  “What?” I ask, sitting up. “But we just took off.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Las Vegas is a very short flight.”

  “Las Vegas? But I thought we were going to Saint Thomas?”

  “No, ma’am. That’s tomorrow night. Tonight you’re staying at the Bellagio with Mr. Asher. He’s already there. Your concierge is waiting for you in the limo outside.”

  I realize the door to the plane is already open and the cool desert air is flowing into the plane. “OK.” I can go with the flow.

  I get in the car and there’s Carl. I remember him from our last Vegas disaster. He was very helpful when we wanted to change Kristi’s wedding.

  “Carl?” I ask him.

  “Mrs. Asher,” he says back with a smile. “I’m to escort you to the hotel and lead you to your first clue.”

  “Clue?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Asher left me specific instructions to give you clues as to where you will find him tonight.”

  I have to turn away so I can process this. What is he doing? I spend the next thirty minutes wondering, going out of my mind with curiosity, and declaring my love to my husband internally over and over again.

  I have a feeling…

  “We’re here,” Carl finally says. The driver gets out and opens my door and Carl meets me, and then offers his arm so he can escort me inside. We walk between the large Asian lion statues and into the lobby of the very festive Bellagio Hotel.

  I allow Carl to lead me and after a few minutes we end up on the terrace that overlooks the fountains. It’s empty and when I look around for other people, Carl says, “Mr. Asher made sure this night would be completely private months ago.”

  My mind is spinning with possibilities. “You said I get a clue?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He pulls a sealed envelope out of his pocket and hands it to me with a smile.

  “Thank you.” My hands are shaking with anticipation as I take it from him and tear it open.

  Princess,

  This was where we came first. Do you remember what you said?

  Love,

  Your prince

  I stare out at the view. At the people gathered around to watch the nightly show. “There’s too many people, that’s what I said.” I look over at Carl, just to make sure he doesn’t think I’m crazy. “I told him this wasn’t private enough. We needed a place that was just for us.”

  Carl smiles and nods. “Yes, ma’am, that’s what you said.”

  “Were you there?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yes. I’m a wedding officiator as well as a concierge.”

  “You married us?”

  He nods again and his genuine smile eases my nerves a little. “I did. Mr. Asher is waiting for you in the exact spot where you were married. I’m to accompany you, but you have to remember where you got married to find him.”

  “Where did we go?” I tap my finger on the ledge of the balcony and wait, but he doesn’t answer me.

  After more than a full minute of silence he prods me. “You’re a wedding planner. Where would one have a wedding here?”

  “The gardens are a pretty place.” But that feels too generic. I mean, flowers? Really? Is that all I could come up with? “The pools?” But no. How stupid to have a wedding at a pool, even a Bellagio pool. “I don’t know. Our room?”

  When I look over at Carl, he’s smiling.

  “We got married in our room?” It makes me laugh a little as I end my sentence. “Please, don’t tell me I was naked.”

  He clears his throat.

  “Oh my God, was I naked?”

  “No, ma’am. You were not.”

  “So Vaughn is in our room?” I start walking across the terrace, but Carl’s hand reaches out and stops me.

  “Do you remember anything else? Your dress?”

  I stare at him and then look down at my clothes. “I got married in this, didn’t I?”

  He nods. “Minus the shoes. You said your dogs were barking.”

  I turn away and chuckle. “I wish I had a picture.”

  “Mr. Asher was afraid the media would get a hold of them. But he said, if you want, he can arrange it for tonight.” Carl pauses to see if I’ll answer him. “Would you like pictures of tonight?”

  “Are we getting married?”

  “I think that’s up to you.”

  “Is he waiting in the room?”

  “Yes, he is. But he wanted me to ask if you’d like a real dress this time. I’ve got the shops open for you and a selection of dresses waiting for your choosing.”

  Do I want a dress? “No. I don’t want a dress. Like it or not, this was my wedding dress.”

  “I understand.” And then he offers me his arm again. “Shall we go upstairs?”

  I only vaguely remember nodding my head and letting him lead me away. My stomach flutters inside and I feel a little lightheaded.

  Vaughn Asher is waiting for me. He’s waiting to marry me. He flew me here on his private jet and he’s trying to recreate our wedding night. Good God, he is the perfect man.

  When we get off the elevator on our floor, Carl leans into my ear. “I’m going to wait here until you’re ready. Do you remember your vows?”

  “Vows?”

  He smiles at me and urges me to walk forward to the Grand Lakeview Suite that we were in back in September. “Don’t worry, ma’am. It will come back to you.”

  I walk forward, trying to put that last question out of my head. And when I reach the door, I notice that it’s propped open with the swing-latch. I push the heavy door open, step inside, and then let it fall closed behind me.

  I can see him standing at the end of the long hallway, backlit by the spectacular Bellagio fountains. He’s got on a black tux. Maybe even the one he was wearing that night because it was the premiere for Invisible Man 2. His hands are folded in front of him, and he’s smiling so wide I can’t help but smile back.

  “Mrs. Asher.”

  “Mr. Asher.”

  He steps forward and meets me halfway, then takes my hand and leads me over to the dining table where there’s a spectacular array of fruits and bite-sized mo
rsels. “You liked this part, right?”

  I nod as I stare up at his blue eyes. “I did.”

  And then he points down to the sheepskin rug. “And that as well, correct?”

  I sigh as I think about lying on the rug with him that night. I was drunk. The room was spinning a bit. But this fur felt so damn good I did not care about anything else but lying down on it. “The sheepskin rug makes everything better.”

  “I love that you love it.”

  I bend my knee to lower myself down on the rug, but he pulls me back up. “No, sweets. You misunderstand.” And then he guides me to the chair. “It’s your turn to sit and my turn to kneel.”

  I think I might cry as he urges me to sit and then I cover my mouth with my hand as he gets down on one knee and presents me with a turquoise blue box.

  “Grace Kinsella. I didn’t do this right the first time. I never asked you properly.”

  He’s spinning me around the terrace and I’m laughing. Partly because I’m drunk and partly because it feels so good to be happy. He makes me so damn happy.

  “Why are you smiling?” he asks, stopping the twirl to pull me towards him. My hands go to his hard chest, pressing up against his muscles like they want to ward him off. But I don’t want to ward him off at all. I want him to hold me close.

  “Because I’m happy.”

  “I love to make you happy. I could make you happy forever, you know. I could be your prince.”

  “I think you could too.”

  He unleashes a dimpled smile that stuns me silent. “I think you should make me legally required to make you happy, Kinsella.”

  “How does one go about doing that, Asher?”

  “One makes it legally binding though a very special happiness ceremony. I promise to make you happy and you promise to let me.”

  “Hmmm.” I laugh. “I like that promise.”