by Virna DePaul
“So she’ll resist your attempts to win her back. At first. She’ll make you miserable. But you deserve it.”
“You’re too kind.”
He snorts. “I’m not here to coddle you. If you really love her, then you should do everything in your power to get her back. That’s it. Don’t overthink it.”
“You don’t understand. Her mum told me that if I came near her again, she’d fucking end my career. She was going to pulls strings and make sure I wasn’t cast in Perfect Union. Then she was going to make sure I never worked in Hollywood again.”
He raises an eyebrow. “She said that?”
I nod.
“So you dumped your girlfriend for your career?”
“No. I dumped her because I didn’t deserve her. I’d lied, I’m a street rat, and if I don’t have a career then I can’t provide for her. No more country club memberships. No more nice cars. She deserves someone like—”
“Like The Prat.”
“No,” I spit out. “She deserves someone who loves her. Who’ll do his damnedest to make her happy, every day of her life.”
“Yeah? You know a guy willing to do that?”
“I’d spend my life doing it if she’d let me.” I look around my apartment, as if things have suddenly become crystal clear. Declan was right—part of me had refused to believe, no matter how much money I had in the bank, that I was a man who deserved his success. To live it. Mostly because I’d been afraid as soon as I enjoyed my success it would all be taken away from me. Just the way Marissa had been taken away.
No, that’s not right. I’d let Marissa go. I’d tossed her away and all because her family didn’t approve of me. Because I’d bought into the lie that I didn’t deserve her. That money and prestige was what she needed. God, I was the biggest prat of all.
“Bugger June Woodcrest.” I take in a deep breath. I finally let myself say the words inside my mind: I love Marissa. I love her. It’s like a wall encasing my heart starts to melt. It’s a revelation, and it’s terrifying. “Maybe she can blackball me in Hollywood, but I’m getting Marissa back.”
Declan punches me in the arm, but lightly. “You’re an ass. But you’re my friend.” He then puts both hands on my upper arms, looking me straight in the eye. “You’ve got this.”
I nod. “I’ve got this.”
“Because you love her.”
“Because I love her.”
The words that I thought were so difficult before? They almost fly off of my tongue. The final wall around my heart melts.
“I love her.”
Declan nods. “Yes, you said that.”
“I love Marissa. I love her.” My heart feels like it’s going to explode. “I love Marissa!”
“Yep, and you’re going to get her back.”
I go to the window and start shouting, “I love Marissa! I love her!” A few bikers below on the sidewalk cheer while someone in the opposite building yells, “Shut up!”
I don’t care. I’m about to tell everyone in Sawtelle how much I love her, but Declan pulls me back.
“Save the enthusiasm for your girl,” he says. “At any rate, I think everyone from here to London heard you.”
I don’t even hear Declan. I sit down, trying to think of a way to get her back. Flowers on bended knee? Groveling? Both? Do I tell her I love her first or do I apologize first? Maybe I can do both in one sentence?
“Uh, so, I’m assuming you aren’t coming to happy hour with the cast tonight?” Declan asks. “Do you mind if I make a play for Dakota?”
I look up. “What? Oh no. Tell Noble and Spires I’m sorry, but something came up.”
“You got it.”
Chapter Twenty
Marissa
So much has changed since Simon and I met that I can hardly believe it. I’ve set up a home office. I’ve started my own business. I’m feeling excited about my career in a way that I haven’t felt in a long time.
I haven’t spoken to my mom since that infamous lunch. My dad, however, has called me more than once to check in. I’m not sure why. Not sure what’s caused him to reach out to me more. But I am thankful for the small strides we’re making toward getting closer.
It makes me feel less alone.
Last week, he told me that my mom had threatened to end Simon’s career if he didn’t break up with me. That wasn’t such a big surprise. Really, I wouldn’t have expected any different from my mom. What surprised me was my dad was telling me. Why?
“I just wanted you to know. Because what I saw in the country club that night… The way he was with you… I don’t think he was faking that he cared about you, Marissa.”
“Maybe not,” I said. “But in the end, he still cared more about his career than me. So things ended the only way they could, right?”
Dad hesitated for several seconds, then said, “Right.”
Right.
Now I’m standing in my new home office, gazing out the window at the side yard, and despite everything, I want to see Simon so much my heart bleeds. I want to see his grin, and hear his accent, and feel him touch me again. I’ve missed his warmth and his humor and his intelligence. I miss how he called me love and darling. I miss how he looked at me like I was the most beautiful woman in the room. I’m still as in love with him as I was the last time I saw him. Even though I’m angry that he broke things off, I can’t help but love him. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop loving him.
Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed, alone, I wonder if anything between us was real. Maybe I’d imagined it all, under the haze of first infatuation and then love. But then I remember how Simon looked at me, how he kissed me, and I know Dad is right; it wasn’t fake. No man can be that good of an actor.
But it doesn’t matter. Simon and I are over. He’s not going to come crawling back to me no matter how much I dream about it. I have to focus on my new business and on myself.
I hear my phone sound, and grabbing it, I see another text from Charles. I roll my eyes. The man has been relentless ever since he found out Simon and I are over. He thinks that if he bothers me enough, I’ll take him back. I’m this close to blocking his number, but he’d probably just show up at my doorstep.
Leave me alone, I reply.
Within seconds he messages, Can we just talk? Please?
NO!
I turn my phone on silent.
Two months ago, I was engaged to that man because my family thought it was the best I could ever do. And I believed them. I truly thought he was the only man on this earth who would want to marry me. How depressing is that? But Simon showed me how wrong I was. He may have broken my heart, but he also gave me the courage to transform my life. It’s funny how things work out like that.
With that realization, I can look back on my time with Simon as one that was too short, yet at the same time something I will never regret. I learned how to love, and I learned how to appreciate myself, too.
I’m startled when my doorbell rings. I frown, convinced it’s Charles. I throw open the door. “Charles, please. I—”
My words falter when I see who’s actually on my doorstep.
Simon.
He’s wearing an open-collared shirt and dark pants, and his shirtsleeves are rolled up his forearms. His hair is longer and he has stubble on his cheeks.
He looks beautiful. I stare at him, like he’s a ghost come to haunt me.
Then I see a dozen reporters, waiting across the street. I blink as a flashbulb goes off.
Simon curses softly and braces his hands on either side of the doorframe. “Damn it, Marissa. I can’t believe you’ve actually taken The Prat back. Are you insane, woman?”
What in the world? He thinks…? And he has the nerve to tell me I’m…?
“For your information, I’m not back together with Charles. He’s tried to see me, but I’ve told him the same thing I’m about to tell you. Go away.” I move to slam the door in his face, but he catches it in one strong hand even as relief washes over his expression.
/>
“Thank God. Declan told me you were back with him but I couldn’t believe it. He doesn’t deserve you.”
I snort. “Yeah. Apparently there are plenty of guys who don’t deserve me.”
“Truer words have never been spoken. May I come in? Please?”
He gives me a look, and it’s a look that’s both hopeful and despairing. It melts my heart. My stupid, betraying heart. I have no willpower with this man but somehow, I have to find it.
“What would be the point? Just say what you need to say and then go.”
He glances over his shoulder. Cameras flash wildly, and I can’t help but wonder what story they can possibly come up with over the star of Perfect Union showing up at my little cottage. With his new role, long gone are the days when he’d been able to avoid the paparazzi. I’m sure he fills every gossip magazine now, which is why I’ve been avoiding them and the television at all costs.
“Please, Marissa. I need to talk with you, and then I’ll go if that’s what you want.”
I stare at him, then sigh, realizing what’s going on. He wants to apologize. Part of me wants to tell him to go to hell, but the other part of me understands that the better course is to be the bigger person, if only to show him he didn’t break me. It isn’t quite true but he doesn’t need to know that. “Fine. Come in.”
When I shut the door, he doesn't sit down. Instead, he stuffs his hands into his pockets, clearly antsy. Oddly enough, his nervousness calms me.
“Would you like a glass of wine?”
“No, I’m good.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Although maybe I should. Do you have red?”
“Only white, I’m afraid.”
“That’s fine. White is fine. I like white.” His cheeks flush as he realizes he’s babbling.
Simon Richards-Dale is discombobulated, I realize. Around me. Is it Opposite Day?
I go in the kitchen, pour him a glass of wine, then come back and hand it to him. Our fingers brush. It’s like an electric shock. Our gazes meet, and I have to look away.
The tension only lengthens. I’m about to ask him why he’s here when he says, “I needed to see you, Marissa.”
I stare at my own wine glass, because suddenly it’s too much to look him in the eye.
“I needed to see you because I’m a right bastard. I bolloxed everything, didn’t I?” When I don’t reply, he sighs. “Don’t answer that. I know I did. You shouldn’t have let me in at all. But I’m so glad you did. I have been a miserable, useless, stupid, pathetic mess without you. I’ve been hopeless. You know, I think of you every time I wake up? When I drink coffee? When Greg drives me somewhere? When I take a walk? It’s you I think about. You’re this constant presence and bloody hell, it’s driving me insane.”
He sounds so despairing and so frustrated that I have to fight the urge to laugh. But as he steps closer to me, all laughter disappears. I can feel his body heat. It takes everything in me not to launch myself into his arms.
“I’m bungling this,” he mutters. “I’m here because I love you, Marissa Woodcrest. I adore you. You are everything I’ve ever wanted in a woman. You make me want to be a better man.”
Now I feel the tears coming. I’m still staring at my wine glass because it’s all too much. His words, his presence. Is this just a dream? I’ve had this dream so many times that I’m not sure anymore.
“God, Marissa, look at me. Please look at me.”
I take a deep breath, and I meet his gaze. His blue eyes are haunting and yet brimming with love. It makes me gasp.
He takes my hand. “Darling, did you hear me? I love you.”
I stare and stare because my voice is gone. Words are lost. I can only feel my heart pounding in my chest.
“You’re scaring me.” He kisses my fingers. “Please say something.”
I inhale. “You really love me?”
He nods. “God, yes, I love you. And I’m so sorry for everything. I was so convinced that I couldn’t be the man you needed and deserved, and when your mum came to see me…” He squeezes my hand. “But I didn’t count on being so in love with you that when you walked away, you took my very will to live. Nothing means more to me than you do, and if it means I have to spend the rest of my life proving that to you and to your mum, I’ll do it.”
I’m crying, I realize. Big, sloppy tears are falling, and I cover my mouth to keep the sounds from filling the kitchen. Simon hugs me and I cry into his shirt.
I barely hear what he’s saying at first. “I’m giving up the part. If you tell me yes, I’ll stay with you. Nothing would make me happier than to just be with you.”
I force myself to stop crying, or at least to stop crying so hard. “What?” I ask in a watery voice. “What are you talking about? Why would you give up the part?”
“The role isn’t worth it, not if it comes between us. Being an actor isn’t worth it, either. I never thought I was good enough to do anything else but act, but there has to be other options out there for me. I’ve already told Declan to talk to Noble and Spires. See if I can get out of my contract.”
I’m so confused. “But everything you worked so hard for! You don’t have to give up Perfect Union—and why would you want to give up acting?”
“That day your mother came to see me? She told me she’d use her influence in Hollywood to make sure I never worked again if I kept pursuing you,” he says intently, and when I open my mouth, he waves a hand and continues, saying, “I was between a rock and a hard place—without a career, I wouldn’t have been able to provide for you. But mostly, I believed her when she said I didn’t deserve you. I thought the fact I’d used you to get the role, my shitty upbringing, the chance I might never work in this town again, all of it made me think I didn’t deserve you.”
“But you—”
“But I realized you deserved better than the life your mother was forcing you to live. I don’t want either of us to be guided by our past mistakes any longer. You and I? This has to be your decision. I just took your mother’s power out of the equation.” He shakes his head. “No career is worth not having you in my life.”
I’m dumbfounded. He would give up the role of a lifetime for me. He’d give up his career—the thing he loved to do—for me. For us. It’s unbelievable. And yet it fills me with such awe and love for him that I finally throw my arms around his neck.
“You do love me!” I cry into his shoulder.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been saying?” He laughs and holds me tighter.
“I love you. I still love you, even though you drive me insane.” It’s true. I’d told myself I needed to move on, but who was I kidding? There’s no moving on from Simon Richards-Dale.
“God, Marissa.” He tilts my head back and then his mouth is on mine. I gasp as he kisses me. I’ve missed this so much, too: the feeling of his lips moving against my own, his tongue tangling with mine. Coming together and feeling our passion burn like this.
But before we get too carried away, I break the kiss and say, “You can’t give up that part, Simon. You have to tell Declan you changed your mind.”
He gives me an odd look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. You were born to play that part. Noble and Spires need you, clearly. No one, not even Liam, could fill that part like you. And you were born to act. Let me handle my mother and her threats.” I give him another smile. “You should always listen to me, you know. Because I’m clearly the smartest person here.”
He doesn’t laugh. He just smiles and whispers against my mouth, “Darling, I never had a doubt that’s true.”
Epilogue
Simon
“I think I’m going to cry.”
I look over at Declan. I’m not sure if he’s joking or not.
“No tears, man. At least not until after the ceremony,” I tell him, adjusting my bowtie.
It’s been an entire year since Marissa and I got back together, and now it’s our wedding day. I can hardly believe it. I’m here, standing in front
of the mirror at the church, dressed in a tux, waiting for the ceremony to begin. I haven’t seen Marissa since this morning, when her family whisked her away to get ready. It turns out her sister Larissa isn’t as horrible as I (or Marissa) thought. She’s actually been making an effort to be closer to Marissa, something Marissa is visibly happy about, and when I last saw them together, I heard something about curling irons and manicures and waxing and quite frankly I didn’t need to know any more than that.
I’d popped the question after six months of dating. Marissa’s mum wasn’t exactly overjoyed when we told her, but it was actually her father I’d had the hardest time winning over. He’d had the most hope for Marissa and I in the beginning—even going so far as to not reveal who I was even after he recognized me—therefore he’d needed the most convincing that I truly loved her. After I’d proposed, however, and Marissa’s mum had suggested a long engagement, Raul had shaken his head. “Marissa doesn’t want a long engagement and neither does Simon, do you, Simon?”
“No, sir, I don’t,” I’d replied. “I want your daughter to be my wife as soon as possible.”
“Well then,” he’d said. “Make it happen. Make my daughter happy.”
“I will,” I’d replied. “I’ll spend my life making her the happiest woman on this and any planet.”
At that, Raul Woodward had smiled, and I swear his wife had sighed, and it had mostly been a happy sound. June Woodward will never be my biggest fan, nor will I ever be hers, but my enormous success after the premiere of Perfect Union, and the fact my name’s being batted around as a contender for an Oscar, has raised my worth in June’s eyes considerably. And the truth is, now that Marissa’s father is taking Marissa’s back more often, June has started to soften toward her daughter, as well. She’d even expressed outrage that Charles The Prat’s parents had sought an invitation to the wedding, stating she’d never let that “horrid man” back into her good graces after the way he’d tried to come between Marissa and me.
