“You will. One day, you will. I promise.”
We don’t speak much for the rest of the ride, both lost in our own thoughts. It’s a relief, in a way, to finally close the chapter on Grayson Dunn once and for all. Maybe now, we can actually be friends.
I watch him from the corner of my eye as he sips another gulp of champagne, wondering about the woman who will tame him. His far-flungsomedaygirl, out there somewhere in the world, still a stranger to him.
I used to think settling down wasn’t a matter ofwhoso much aswhen— that meeting the right person and deciding to spend the rest of your life with them had very little to do with them being that elusiveonefor you and instead was simply an indication that you’d reached the point in your life where things like marriage and babies seem remotely less terrifying, while dying alone looms scarily on the horizon. I used to think it was just a matter of chance — whichever girl a man happens to be dating at the time that switch from playboy to potential husband flips, winds up being his wife.
And, hey, maybe that’s partly true. But mostly, I don’t think it’s a matter of finding someone else; I think it’s a matter of finding yourself.
People are always waiting around for that magical person who’ll walk into their life and fix them, who’ll offer up some vital piece they’ve been missing and make them complete. They spend years trying to fit their broken edges against another person’s and call themselveswholeandhealed. The only problem with this, of course, is that expecting anyone else to fix you is an unequivocal disaster.
You can’t wait for a man to come around and put you back together. You have to put yourself back together first, and become the kind of woman who deserves a good man.
You can’t settle for someone; you have to strive for them — strive to be better, to do better, to love better.
Wyatt Hastings makes me a better person.
He always has, since the first moment our paths crossed. I look at him and I see a whole future, laid out before us. Once, that would’ve terrified me. Now, it thrills me.
The limo pulls up to the theatre and I see the red-carpet rolled out before us, so much bigger in person than it looks on a TV screen, already jam-packed with actors and industry members whose films are part of the festival. We creep forward, waiting for our turn to disembark, and I feel my eyes widen at the splendor of the gowns and the beauty of the celebrities wearing them, as they float gracefully across the sea of red.
Starstruckis an understatement.
It’s nothing like what you see when watching from the comfort of your couch. It’s infinitely more chaotic, the very air buzzing with a frenzied sort of rush — and we’re not even out of the limo yet. I swallow down my nerves as we finally reach the drop-off point.
Grayson gets out first, his hand holding mine steady as he leads me from the car. I try to stay calm as we pose for the cameras, remembering all the tips Harper impressed on me yesterday.
Don’t grimace. Don’t squirm. Don’t over-smile. Don’t cross your legs. Don’t touch your dress. Don’t play with your hair. Don’t adjust your shoes. Don’t trip. Don’t curse. Don’t make eye contact with anyone for too long.
Basically, I’m not allowed to do anything except stand completely still and smile in a poised, pleasant manner.
I hover by Grayson’s side, eyes sweeping the crowd. A-list celebrities litter the carpet like diamonds, intimidatingly beautiful as they pose and stride and smile for the press. Awards season is officially in full swing — the crush of press behind the velvet ropes on either side proves that beyond a shadow of a doubt.
I’m thankful for Grayson’s well-practiced presence at my side as we make our way through the gauntlet. It takes me a few minutes to focus on much of anything as he steers our course, keeping me steady as camera flashes blind us. We stop to chat with three different reporters, answering questions on autopilot.
Who are you wearing?
What films are you most excited to see during the festival?
Have you heard the Oscar buzz over your performances?
They’re tactful enough not to ask about the Helena situation — or, more likely, they’ve been threatened with legal action by AXC, should they attempt it.
The thought makes me smirk.
It takes an extraordinarily long time to traverse the carpet. We’re barely halfway down the stretch when I finally spot two familiar sets of shoulders in the distance.
Sloan and Wyatt, posing together for a photograph.
My gaze cut across the sea of people between us. As if he feels my stare, he glances up abruptly. Those blue eyes lock on mine, asking a question.
What are you doing, baby?
My feet move unconsciously. I hear an interviewer firing a question about my dress at me, but pay her no mind. I keep my eyes locked on Wyatt as I walk away. Smiling, he detaches from Sloan’s side and meets me in the middle of the carpet. There’s a swarm of people all around us, but the only one I see is him.
“Hi,” I say, when we’re a foot apart.
“What are you doing? Where’s Dunn?” he asks, confused. “I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile.”