by Force, Marie
“I can’t believe I just talked to Candace. I’ve fantasized about how it might be to talk to them again, but I was always afraid to reach out to them because I didn’t know if they’d been turned against me. It would’ve killed me to find them and to hear they hate me.”
“She sounded just as happy to talk to you.”
“I know! Thank you so much.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes, you did. You dragged me into your life, refusing to take no for an answer, and now I have my sisters back.”
“I hate to point out that you skipped a rather traumatic portion of the story.”
“Don’t you see? It was all worth it because not only did I get you, but them, too.”
His smile lights up his eyes. “You’re so beautiful when you’re happy.”
“Then I must be the most beautiful woman in the world right now.”
“You won’t hear me arguing.”
* * *
We pass an absolutely blissful couple of days in which we don’t see anyone but each other and the security personnel who are nearby if we need them, but mostly out of sight. I exchange texts with both my sisters nonstop, and finally get to talk to Olivia when she gets a chance to call without our mother around to hear her. We’re not ready to tell her we’re back in touch. They’re both really busy with school and work, so we’re trying to find a time to get together in the next few weeks.
Every day, Flynn takes me out to practice my driving. He says it’s the perfect opportunity to show me Southern California. One day we drive north to Santa Barbara. Another day we drive down the Pacific Coast Highway, from Long Beach almost to San Diego and back again. We find out-of-the-way places to stop for lunch, and the security detail that follows us helps to ensure our safety and privacy.
Other than a few speechless waitresses and waiters, for whom Flynn signs autographs and poses for pictures, we get away with these outings. As I become more confident, I discover that I love to drive.
On Thursday evening, Flynn arranges a special trip to Disneyland in Anaheim. We have the place mostly to ourselves after it closes to the public. We go on every ride, a few of them twice, and have the time of our lives. As it’s my first time visiting a Disney park, I feel like a little kid again, and Flynn, who has been here many times before, says it’s like the first time all over again for him, too, because he’s here with me.
We check out Palm Springs and the Palm Desert, San Bernardino and Big Bear. One city and town at a time, I fall in love with Southern California. I’m not even all that bothered by the tremors from a small earthquake that shake the house on Friday morning. Flynn says the tremors are a fact of life in California, and as long as you know what to do, they’re nothing to be afraid of.
He takes the time to teach me everything I need to know about surviving a major earthquake, and then we don’t talk about it again, which is fine with me.
We spend hours—in the car, in bed, on the sofa, by the pool—discussing our plans for the foundation, trading ideas and making lists. With his extensive contacts, Flynn isn’t worried about raising the money we’ll need to get the foundation up and running. He’s far more concerned about making sure the money gets to those in need in the form of programs that make a real difference. That’s where the major brainstorming is needed.
I’m thrilled to be part of such an important project. It fills the void created by the loss of my job and gives me a sense of purpose. We talk about goals for the foundation, and Flynn says he won’t be happy until every kid in America gets three nourishing meals a day. Anything less than that won’t be enough for him—or me. We’re in complete agreement on that point.
When we’re not out driving around Southern California or talking about the foundation, we’re making love—in bed, on the sofa, in the pool, in the shower and once on the floor of the kitchen. We can’t get enough of each other, and I dread the day when he’ll have to go back to work. This little cocoon we’re living in can’t last forever, but I’m determined to enjoy every second of it for as long as I can.
On Sunday evening, we take a limo into the city for the Screen Actors Guild Awards at the Shrine Auditorium. Earlier, Flynn explained to me that these awards are particularly significant as they are decided on by peers, which makes them that much more special. The “Actor” is a coveted award. Unlike the Golden Globe he won for acting for the first time two weeks ago, he already has two Actors for earlier roles.
Because of his superstitious nature, he won’t admit to wanting to win for his performance in Camouflage, but I know he’s excited to see this particular role recognized by his peers. He poured his heart and soul into the role of a returning Special Forces officer who has to fight to regain his life after being grievously injured in Afghanistan.
“You look positively radiant tonight, Nat.”
In deference to my newlywed status, I chose a white dress for the event. Flynn says me wearing white is a bit of a “fuck you” to the media that are still freaking out about us getting married. My husband does have a unique way of phrasing things.
The dress is subtly sexy and highlights the tan I’ve acquired during my afternoons at the pool. It also looks great with the jewelry he bought me to wear to the Globes. I told him not to buy me something new for the SAGs. I’m perfectly happy with what I already have.
I appreciate how generous he always is, but I don’t need to be showered in expensive gifts to be happy.
On the way into town, he breaks open a bottle of champagne.
I break open a bottle of ibuprofen. We each take a couple of preventive painkillers since champagne gives us frightful headaches the next morning, and we’d like to indulge tonight.
When we each have a glass in hand, he puts his arm around me and draws me close to him. “Oh damn, what’s that?” He withdraws a velvet box from his pocket. “Where did that come from?”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know. You should open it and find out.”
“I will not open it, because I told you not to buy me anything.”
“Did you? I don’t recall you saying that.”
I stare at him, incredulous. “You do too remember me saying it, because I said it two days ago.”
He shakes his head. “Not ringing any bells.”
“No wonder you’re up for all these awards. You’re a truly gifted actor.”
“Why thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you make me happy on my big night and open that.”
“If I open it, I’ll like it. If I like it, that’ll encourage you to do this again when I told you I don’t want you to.”
“Hmm,” he says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw, “I can see your dilemma. On the one hand, you’re burning up with curiosity because you really, really want to see what’s in there. But if you go along with me on this, chances are you’re setting a precedent for our entire marriage. I mean, can you imagine if I get a big idea to buy you something new for every formal event we attend together? With the way we pat ourselves on the back in Hollywood, you’ll need a storage unit for your jewelry. It is indeed a dilemma.”
“You’re totally making fun of me.”
“I am not! I’m simply summarizing the situation and the impasse at which we find ourselves.” Every beautiful inch of him is sexy in yet another tuxedo, this one by Armani.
His eyes dance with mirth as he pushes my buttons and tries to win me over to his way of thinking. He’s absolutely right about one thing—if I accept this gift, I will be setting a precedent, and that concerns me.
“Open it.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“How about I open it for you, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it.”
“What kind of BS is that? Of course I’m going to like it.”
“Do you ever actually swear? BS doesn’t count unless you actually say it.”
I get very close to his face and say, “Bull. Shit.
”
He takes full advantage of my closeness to kiss me. “I love you, Mrs. G, and I love to pick out shiny things I think you’ll like. You’ll hurt my feelings if you make me take it back, so I suppose you ought to just open it so my feelings won’t be hurt.”
“Oh my God. You’re really going to play the hurt-feelings card?”
“I believe I just did.”
I snatch the velvet box out of his hand and open it. I think I actually go blind for a second or two from the shine of diamonds sitting in blue velvet. “Flynn… What? I mean…” I sigh, deeply. He’s too much for me. I lost this battle before it ever began.
He takes my glass and puts both of them in cup holders so he can remove the dazzling diamond bracelet from the box and affix it to my wrist. “There. Now I’m happy.”
“It’s beautiful, but—”
Laying a finger over my lips, he stops me before I can finish the thought. “No buts. You’re my wife, and that gives me the legal right to buy you anything I want whenever I want.”
I raise a brow. “The legal right?”
“Uh-huh. And the law says you gotta take whatever I buy for you, no matter what it is.”
“Where does the law say that?”
“Like you want an actual paragraph or something?”
“That’d be good.”
“I’ll ask Emmett to get it for you.”
“You do that.” I look down again at the bracelet. “It’s too much, Flynn. I’m not comfortable with being spoiled like this.”
“Give it time. You’ll get used to it.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
“Why do I suddenly fear there’s a deeper issue afoot here?”
I take a moment to collect myself, swallowing the knot of emotion that gathers in my throat. “You’re so incredibly generous. I’ve never known anyone who thinks of others as selflessly as you do. I don’t want you to ever think I don’t appreciate your thoughtfulness or your generosity, because I do. I appreciate it very much.”
“But?”
“But it makes me uncomfortable to be showered with things like diamonds when I can barely buy you dinner right now.” A glance at my online bank balance earlier in the day left me feeling rather ill. He mentioned me getting paid for my work on the foundation, but that hasn’t kicked in yet.
“Wow. Well, I don’t even know where to begin to reply to that. You’re my wife, Natalie, which means everything I have is now yours, too. You can buy me anything you want to. You can buy yourself anything you want or need. Tomorrow, we’re getting you access to money. I should’ve done that sooner, and I’m sorry that I didn’t think of it before now.”
“I’m not asking you to do that.”
“I know you’re not. I’m telling you that that’s what’s going to happen.”
I’m not sure I like being told. I decide to let it drop for now so we can enjoy this special evening, but the subject is far from closed.
Chapter 15
My beautiful, sweet wife is worried about money? It makes me fucking crazy to hear her say she can’t buy me dinner. She has no idea what she’s married into or the resources that are now hers—and that’s entirely my fault. Why didn’t I think of it sooner? Of course she’s worried about money. She lost her job because of me, for fuck’s sake.
I feel like I’m learning every lesson with her the hard way, and once again I’m berating myself for not anticipating her concerns. She’s gone quiet, which means she’s pissed. My Natalie is a fighter, and she doesn’t back down. Silence, where she’s concerned, is not golden.
“Nat.”
She looks at me.
“I didn’t mean to say it that way. You have to understand where I’m coming from. To have what I have and then to hear that my wife is worried about money… That sort of hits me right here.” I lay my hand on my heart.
“I’m not worried about it. I’m just out of it because I’m not getting paid anymore.”
“You’ll be getting paid soon from the foundation work, and you’re far from out of money, sweetheart. We’re married now. Your worries are my worries. If you have bills to pay or things you need to take care of, you only have to tell me and it’ll be done.”
“I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“I’m your husband. It’s my job to take care of you.”
“This is not the Stone Age, Flynn. I’ve always been independent, and I take care of myself. I don’t know how to be any other way.”
“I understand and respect that tremendously. It’s extremely refreshing to be with a woman who wants to earn her own way. I’ll never stand in the way of you following your dreams. What you want, I want. But you will never, ever, ever worry about money again. Are we clear on that?”
“I suppose I’ll eventually get used to my change in circumstances, but it’s not going to happen overnight. I appreciate that you want to take care of me, but you have to understand that taking care of me doesn’t mean buying me diamonds for every occasion. Put that money toward the foundation. That would make me much happier.”
“I hear what you’re saying. I really do, but you have to let me spoil you a little bit.”
“I have a feeling your idea of a little bit and mine are vastly different.”
I nuzzle her neck, focusing on all the spots that make her sigh. “We’ll find common ground. Eventually.”
“Until then, no more diamonds.”
“No more diamonds. Now, about your student loans…”
“Flynn!”
Laughing, I squeeze her tight and kiss the indignation off her lips.
“You messed up my lipstick.”
“I’ll buy you more.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“I love my wife.”
“She loves you, too, even when you’re incorrigible.”
“I have more fun with you than I’ve ever had with anyone, Nat. Even when we’re bickering. Especially then.”
“I keep waiting to discover something about you that I don’t like.”
Her words are like an arrow to my heart. God… she can’t ever know about the one part of me that she’d definitely not like or understand.
“But so far, there’s nothing not to like.”
“Same here, sweetheart, although I’m not waiting to find something bad. I know there’s nothing to find.”
When we arrive a short time later at the Shrine Auditorium, my anxiety kicks up a few notches. Our security detail has been in close touch with the event security to ensure there won’t be any issues with getting us into the building. But after I was stabbed in a rope line at an event last year in London, public appearances aren’t what they used to be. People are fucking crazy, and I expect the crazy to be a thousand times worse than usual since this is our first public appearance since we tied the knot. The thought of exposing Natalie to that level of crazy makes me extremely uneasy.
We’ve been told to wait in the car until the security detail comes for us.
Natalie holds my hand between both of hers. “You’re vibrating.”
“This shit makes me nuts after what happened in London. Especially now that we’ve given them the story of the year by getting married.”
“Tonight will be nuts, and after that, they’ll get used to us, and we’ll be just another old married couple.”
“Right,” I say with a laugh. “Somehow I don’t think that’ll happen for a while. This is going to be insane, so just hold on to me, smile and wave if you want to, but don’t let go of me. Okay?”
“I won’t let go. Ever.”
“Promise?”
She lays her head on my shoulder. “I believe I already made that promise in Vegas.”
She soothes and calms me with her sweetness. Knowing that I get to go home with her—tonight and every night—eases my anxiety.
The door opens, and it’s show time. I get out first, generating a roar from the crowd that has gathered to watch the red carpet festivities. As I extend my hand t
o Natalie to help her out, the decibel level increases exponentially. The crowd literally goes wild over my gorgeous wife.
She glances at me nervously, but then seems to recover, smiling widely as she takes hold of my arm and holds on—tight.
People scream our names, and flashes nearly blind us. The red carpet unfolds before us, and we move forward with the security guys keeping a slight distance so as not to hide us from the crowd. I don’t want that. It’s a fine line between being safe and being standoffish. I’ve always been hands-on with my fans, and I never forget that they’re the ones who made me a star.
But a knife slashing across your ribs in a rope line tends to change your outlook on crowds and fans and celebrity. I keep a bit of distance now that wasn’t there before, and while it saddens me to have to do that, I won’t risk my safety, and I certainly won’t expose Natalie to any danger.
Taking her cues from me, she waves and smiles like an old pro. People are calling out her name and telling her they love her. I’m amazed and humbled by the show of support for my wife. We pause for a huge group of photographers who leave me half-blind from the blast of flashes.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a disturbance that draws my attention. One of the reporters for the show Hollywood Starz, a woman who has interviewed me many times in the past, is crying—on the air—as one celebrity after another walks by her without so much as a glance in her direction.
The boycott is on. I lean closer to Natalie. “Check it out—to the right. They’re the ones that broke your story. Everyone’s blowing them off.”
She takes a subtle look. “Wow. Is she crying on the air?”
“Looks that way.” I keep my arm around her. “Congratulations, sweetheart. You’ve got all of Hollywood on Team Natalie.”
A Hollywood Starz producer tries to get our attention as we go past their setup on the red carpet. Like the rest of my peers, I keep walking when I’d normally stop for a quick chat with them. Instead, I head for their competitors across the way and introduce my wife to the reporters.
“What do you have to say about the boycott of the Hollywood Starz red carpet show?”
