Epilogue Noel
Eight Months Later
Despite Parker’s talk about the theater and being part of the renovation, I still never expected it to turn out like it has.
This place . . . It’s incredible.
I look up at the foyer’s high ceilings, remembering the asbestos-filled hole that was once there. It’s covered now, and a shimmering chandelier hangs in its place.
My gaze drifts to the walls, which are adorned with a rich tapestry of old black-and-white photographs. Each image tells a story, a chapter in the theater’s history, from the first iteration to this masterpiece Parker has created.
“Parker, this is ...” I can’t find the words.
“I know.” She bounces excitedly on the toes of the same black high heels she wore to the bachelor auction. “But wait until you see the rest.”
It’s been killing me not to be part of the final stages of the restoration, but it’s been for a good reason. I’m not sure how Aaron did it, but he salvaged the meeting with Plume Pictures, and they still offered me the role. They wanted me so badly that they pushed the production by three months and guaranteed a month between films. It means we’ll be shooting for longer, but I get to have a life too.
Which is how I’m here right now. We’re just thirty minutes from officially opening the doors of the Noel Carter Theater, and to celebrate, we’re hosting the premiere of One Night , the movie I filmed last year when this theater was still just a dream.
Now it’s more than a dream—it’s a reality, and damn, is it stunning.
When I got back into town last night, I wanted to come straight here to see the theater, but Parker made me wait until today to get my first glimpse of it all finished.
Honestly, I wasn’t that upset, considering I had her naked and under me in less than a minute.
“Come on.” She grabs my hand, tugging me through the foyer, farther into the theater.
Parker waves toward the impressive concession stand that smells like freshly popped popcorn and butter. “Popcorn guests don’t have to bring from home!”
I laugh, remembering how everyone used to sneak snacks into the Goodman Theater. “It smells incredible.”
“Tastes even better,” she promises. “I might have had a bucket for dinner last night.”
She looks guilty, which tells me that’s exactly what she did.
“I promise to cook you a fantastic dinner tomorrow, deal?”
She sighs dramatically. “Thank goodness. I’m not saying you’ve spoiled me with your amazing cooking skills, but I’ve been eating at Rossi’s a lot lately.”
“And that’s a bad thing because . . . ?”
Parker peers around, smiling at the few people we’ve let in before the show starts, then leans in conspiratorially. “Because you’re a better cook.”
She kisses my cheek, and I grab her by the waist, hauling her closer.
I’ve missed this. I’ve missed her .
We’ve only been apart for two weeks, but it feels like a lifetime, especially since it’s the longest we’ve been separated since the night I came back to Emerald Grove and tripped over her bags.
Parker came to LA as promised, and to both of our surprises, she didn’t hate it. In fact, I think she kind of loves it. Not more than Washington, of course, but still enough that she’s made herself right at home in my penthouse and has even mostly gotten used to the paparazzi that follow us around. Pumpkin loves it, too, and he does much better with the flights than any of us anticipated.
Being with her these last eight months has been incredible, and I can’t believe I went ten years without her.
I know one thing is for damn sure—it will never happen again.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, grinning at me.
“You.”
“Me?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“Are they naughty thoughts?” she whispers.
I laugh. “Surprisingly, no. I was just thinking about how much I love you.”
Her grin widens. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing that.”
“I’ll never get tired of saying it. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
She laughs. “All right. That’s enough of that.”
“Why? Am I getting you all riled up?”
“Yes,” she states matter-of-factly. She wiggles out of my hold, grabbing my hand once more. “Come on. Let’s see the rest.”
We walk through the theater, and I spy Astrid and Clifford, who she recently moved in with, sitting near the bar. She sends me a wave, and I give her a wink.
I nod at Axel, who is holding Molly, his adorable baby girl, as we walk down the hallway. The triplets are at his feet, giggling over something, while Mary chats with other guests. Parker’s best friend nods back. We’ve found a good rhythm, he and I. There’s less grunting and more talking. We won’t be giving hugs anytime soon, but we have advanced to handshakes.
Progress is progress.
Parker points out all the posters of upcoming films we’re showing and the subtle details she’s added, like filmstrips embedded into the trim pieces, and then pulls me through the double doors that lead into the theater.
My jaw drops.
The old, worn-out seats and the horrid popcorn ceiling are long gone. In their place are shiny black seats that look cushiony, and the ceiling has been replaced with beautiful ornate tiles.
But that’s not the best part. The best part is the stage.
“It’s the same one,” I say, unable to take my eyes off it.
“It is,” Parker says. “I didn’t have the heart to tear it down. With a few reinforcements under the stage and some hard buffing, we were able to restore it and keep it going.”
“I can’t ...” I shake my head, looking over at her. “I can’t believe you did all this. This place ... It’s ... I really don’t know what to say. It’s perfect. I couldn’t have imagined anything better.”
“Really? So you don’t think that the wall color is too—”
I capture her lips with mine, cutting off whatever silly-ass thing she’s about to say.
Everything about this place is perfect, down to the most minute detail, and I couldn’t possibly be prouder of her.
The kiss is soft at first, but it progresses into something more almost instantly, and now it makes me wish we were anywhere else right now so I could rip off the gorgeous skintight navy-blue dress she’s wearing and have my way with her.
“Okay, okay. Stop sucking each other’s faces off before the show even starts.”
We spring apart like two teenagers caught in the act.
“Gran!” I say, looking over at her as she walks through the theater doors.
She grins up at me. “Bub. Why didn’t you come see me last night, hmm?” She lifts her stark-white brows at me, and I feel like a kid getting reprimanded all over again.
I point at Parker. “It was her fault.”
“Hey!” My girlfriend smacks my hand away. “It was not!”
But it so was. We both know it.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here now.” Gran opens her arms, and I fall into them effortlessly, hugging her tightly and inhaling the aloe vera she always smells like.
“I missed you,” I tell her.
“You just saw me a month ago,” she says, pulling away, but I know she missed me too. She steps up to Parker, taking her face between her wrinkled hands. “You, my sweet girl, have done an outstanding job, and I am so, so proud of you.”
Parker’s eyes well with tears instantly, and she wraps Gran in a tight hug.
I never told her about Gran being the anonymous donor. Not that I think Gran would mind if she knew, but I like that it’s a little secret she and I have for now.
“Parker!” Fran yells, skidding into the room. “There you are!”
“Fran? What’s wrong?” Parker asks.
“Have you been outside lately?”
“No.” Parker shakes her head. “I’ve been here for hours, making sure everything is perfect before we open at five. Why?” She pulls her brows together. “What’s wrong?”
“You just ... You have to see this. Come on.”
Fran grabs Parker’s hand, tugging her from the room.
She looks back at me over her shoulder, her eyes full of worry, but I just shrug.
I look to Gran, but she waves at me, silently telling me to follow Parker.
The girls make their way to the front of the theater, and I trail behind.
Parker pushes open the door, and her mouth drops.
“Peter?” I ask. “Everything okay?”
She nods but doesn’t look away from whatever has her in shock.
I sneak up behind her, looking over her head, and my jaw slackens along with hers.
When I pitched the idea of premiering One Night here, Parker was a little wary that we’d never get anyone to come out who’s not local, especially with it being so far from the airport. But two minutes after tickets went live, they were sold out. So we added another show, and that sold out too.
It’s one thing to sell out a theater, but seeing the crowd in person is another.
There’s a line wrapped around the building, so long it bleeds onto Borgen, and all I can think is, Take that, Figgins.
I couldn’t stand all the shit he pulled with Parker, so to stick it to him and all the other gossipmongers at the Gazette , I bought it just because I could. I fired Leonard Figgins first, then the rest of the staff who were stirring up trouble, and I rebuilt it with honest and unbiased journalists. It took a few months to get it off the ground, especially with my travel and filming schedule, but now it’s doing better than it ever has and even has an online version that I get sent to my inbox daily to keep up with the happenings of Emerald Grove while I’m away. It’s been a real blessing for all of us.
“Holy ... crackers! This is ... Wow! I don’t know what to say.” Parker shakes her head in disbelief. “I ... I never expected this.”
“Really? I sure as hell did.”
Parker turns to me, letting the door close behind her. “You did not.”
I nod. “Oh, but I did, Peter. From the second you told me about this, I knew this theater would be the most incredible thing ever.”
“You ...” She grins. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“Me?” I wrap my arm around her waist, bringing her closer because I can’t not touch her right now. “I’m nothing compared to you, Parker. I never have been. People think I’m the one with all the star power because I’m an actor, but it’s not me. It’s you. It’s always been you.”
“Say that last part again.”
I smile. “It’s always been you, Peter. And it always will be.”
I kiss her softly, slowly, lingering just because I can. When I finally pull away, she’s still smiling, and I love it.
I love her .
“I love you, Noel Carter,” she says.
“And I love you, Parker Pruitt. Now, let’s go open a theater, huh?”