38. Gemma
THIRTY-EIGHT
GEMMA
We make our way to his call location, an indoor soundstage behind the backlot that he’s worked on many times before, where scenes that take place in a lot of the less frequent locations are filmed.
The studio lot looks the same as I remember it.
But the easy smile on the man next to me makes the whole thing feel entirely different.
He wraps his arm around my neck as we transition from the bright daylight to the dim interior setting. Aaron leans in close to my ear while pointing around the set discreetly.
“I’m lucky you’re not a screamer, I could make you come in every hidden corner of this place and with those little breathy noises you make, no one will even fucking know.”
Even if no one can hear his filthy words, the instant blush on my face and my expression surely give it away. I chastise him.
“Shh, Aaron! Be professional, please! These are your coworkers, and they were mine for years.”
“Professional?” He scoffs. “Was there anything professional about how you came all over my hand in my trailer a few minutes ago? Or how your scent, your taste, is still gonna be all over me when that camera starts rolling, and ten million people are gonna get to see it? Is that the kind of professional behavior you’re looking for?”
I slap his chest repeatedly, hopefully hiding how my thighs are clenching, and my shocked gaze meets his satisfied one right as Alex meanders over to greet us.
My hand slaps down over his mouth, which looks geared up to start talking again, just to make sure he doesn’t add more to that thought.
One of my favorite faces in the world has a smug, shit-eating grin on it as she saunters over.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls. “If it isn’t the sight we all thought we’d see years ago, in the flesh. How’s…” her hand motions between us rather than give it a name, “this life treating you?”
Aaron wrenches his face free of my hand, wraps his arm around my shoulders and answers her with a big ass proud grin on his face. “The taken life? It’s perfection.” He winks down at me, the girl who’s still half-scowling up at him in warning.
He gives Alex a fist bump in welcome (not a high five or a handshake, after said trailer experience, thank God), and I smile warmly at her from underneath his arm.
“Hey, you,” I tell her.
They catch up for a minute before she makes a couple of terrifying threats to get him where he needs to be rtfn.
Before Alex can scare Aaron away from my side, a familiar face walks by and Aaron shouts hi to Brooks—one of my favorite patrons from the library, who’s here somehow—and asks him if he’s doing okay in the new job. I doubt I’m doing a good job hiding the surprise on my face. By his attire, I’d guess he’s a stagehand, but this is the first I’ve heard of it. Brooks nods his head enthusiastically, a grin threatening to split his cheeks wide open as he does, and he waves at me when he sees me there, too. He points between the two of us, eyes twinkling suggestively with the unvoiced question, and Aaron nods his chin at him in affirmation.
Alex disrupts the moment by clapping in our faces loudly, startling Aaron out of the moment, but she can’t undo what he did to my heart by giving that kid the in to a better life. One where he’s not stuck under the thumb of the wrong people, but able to build his own future, the way he deserves to. After a reassuring hand squeeze and a quick kiss, Aaron bolts, and I settle in a few feet away from Alex as the scene begins, letting her do her thing, but close enough to hang if she gets the chance to step back for a few.
She sneaks over at one point to shoot the shit with me, and she definitely lets it slip that the bigwigs have gotten word Aaron might be up for the award for supporting actor for last season, but she makes me promise to keep it a secret. She has to stroll back to the director’s side after a couple minutes, and shoots me a wink before she goes.
Honestly, it’s so good to be back. Watching him do his thing here, not only how he brings his character to life when the camera is rolling, but seeing him in his element even in between takes, making the crew and cast laugh, the easy camaraderie between them…it fills something that’s been missing deep inside of me. This man of mine, he brings good to the world, directly and indirectly. People around him can’t help but smile after interacting with him, viewers can’t help but be moved by his performance. He’s just got this aura about him—when he’s him , that is—that makes shit better everywhere he goes. I love being a huge part of that butterfly effect.
For the rest of the morning, I watch, enraptured by the depth he’s bringing to his character, the gravity of the situation he’s in. He’s so fucking talented, it gives me chills. I know when I finally get to screen The Sabbatical it’s going to be life-changing.
When they break for lunch, I’m swept into a bear hug before we head over to craft services together, his hand on my low back.
“Thank you for being here today,” Aaron murmurs into my ear once we’re in line.
“I wouldn’t miss it,” I tell him, and I mean it.
Another minute of comfortable silence and I tell him, “You’re killing this scene.”
A small smile breaks out on his face, stretching into a wide one as the compliment takes root. “It’s good to be back,” he admits. We start filling our plates, and head outside to the picnic tables near the trailers. I try not to remember the last time we were sitting at them, but it’s impossible.
I can tell it’s on his mind too, because he looks down at the table and back up at me a bit sheepishly once we’re seated.
“I—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“I know.”
He squints one eye shut in the bright light (he—sweetly—took the side facing the sun), and nods once, firmly.
“I know you’re sorry, Stone. Unless you have anything else to tell me, and I don’t think you do, because we came pretty damn clean to one another, the way you can show me is by being the awesome version of you. That other shithead is in the past now.” I give him a small smile so he knows I’m not holding that portion of our history against him.
He folds his lips in between his teeth as he processes my words and nods again.
“I don’t deserve you,” he says, instead of wherever else he was going to go with that sentiment.
I roll my eyes at him. “You fucking do.”
“Not yet,” he says, grabbing my left hand with one of his. “But I’m working on it.”
I bring his hand to my mouth and press a soft kiss to his palm, and we eat in silence for a couple minutes.
“I didn’t realize how much I’d missed it. Being in the swing of things here,” he says thoughtfully after a bit, chewing his second turkey burger (no bun).
“Yeah?” I prompt.
“On set, under the lights, on camera. Feels like I do my best here.” His eyes find mine, boring into me. “With you next to me. That’s when I’m my best.”
I smile down into my quinoa salad, spearing a bite and downing it. I’m not modest enough to deny his words. We all know I bring the razz to his pizazz.
After we finish eating, it’s a quick trip to the bathroom and back on set, where he nails his takes and they wrap for the day earlier than expected, around four. He and I say our goodbyes to each of the cast and crew we see on our way out, until we’re settled in his G-Wagen, alone once more.
I’m deep in thought, staring out the window as we pull out of the studio parking lot, when his hand grabs mine and he brings our joined palms over to rest on the gearshift, his thumb stroking my soft skin as he drives us home. There’s something so masculine but also tender about the act that has my insides all fluttery.
“What’s on your mind, Jellybean?” he asks, peering over at me.
I sneak a peek over at his profile, all rugged and uniquely handsome in the low afternoon sun, before I answer him.
“Honestly?”
“Always,” he says with certainty, glancing at me again.
“I’m thinking how right it feels.”
“Us?”
“All of it.” I give a small shrug. “Sharing a home with you. Sharing a life with you.”
As always, he knows what it is I’m not saying.
“You happy, Gem?”
“Really fucking happy, Stone. Feels like where I’m supposed to be.”
“Yeah?” He can’t hide the smile beaming at me, brighter than that late afternoon light glinting through the windshield.
“Mmm,” I affirm. “Before…I don’t know how to describe it. It was like I got judged? Constantly felt weighed and measured, like all these random people who knew I was in your life were wondering why.”
He shakes his head, rejecting the thought. “That’s bullshit, Gem.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I don’t know why it bothered me as much as it did. But every time someone new found out I was your assistant, or your friend, it was like they had expectations for who I should be, and I didn’t measure up to them.” An acidic note creeps into my voice by the end, and I swallow it down.
His face cracks, sadness leaking out of the broken bits. “Gem, you’ve always belonged. It’s me who didn’t fit in without you.”
His words soothe me more than I want to admit.
“Well, it felt different today,” I say after a minute.
“How?” he prods for more.
“I feel…seen?” Not sure the right word. And truthfully, I don’t know if it’s the way others are seeing me that’s changed, or maybe how I see myself, and what’s between us. I’m scared it’s the latter, that it was me finding myself wanting all along. “Like this is how it should be.”
“When you’re with me, you’re exactly where you should be.” His voice drips with the kind of adoration I’ve craved from him since I can remember, then hardens in an instant, like he inhaled liquid nitrogen, when he speaks again. “Fuck anyone who doesn’t get that.”
I give him an appreciative lift of my lips. “But also, I think…” I sigh, admitting the truth to myself for the first time. “I think I finally feel worthy myself?” It comes out like a question.
“That’s ridiculous,” Aaron says a little louder than he probably meant to. “You’ve always been more than fucking worthy.” He’s shaking his head furiously.
“I think I know that now,” I go on. “But I think I had to work out more of myself for myself, if that makes sense?”
“Kinda?” he says, like he doesn’t really get it, but he wants to.
“I think I was too uncertain in who I was on my own to really feel like I fully belonged in the world you’ve made for yourself.”
His eyes find mine and hold them for a tick too long to be safe while driving, and I look away. He clearly disapproves of the self-doubt I’m admitting to, but I think it might be true. And we do complete honesty now.
When I speak again, it’s to the passing trees and billboards out my window. “I dunno, but it all feels different now. After everything between us. Going out on my own, having my own little adventures. I feel like I found peace with myself, I think. Certainty in what I can do, who I am.”
He nods, musing over my words while his thumb tracks back and forth over my hand.
“And I think…” I start, pausing and looking back at him. “This is what I want.”
When we come to a red light, he turns to face me, holding my hand with both of his, urging me to continue with those imploring eyes.
“Like, building this life together,” I tell him. “Being your partner in life. I think it’s maybe what I’m meant to do.”
The light changes again, and he reluctantly looks back to the road, taking one hand with him for the steering wheel.
“Go on,” he says.
“I don’t want to be your assistant again,” I tell him.
“Definitely not,” he says adamantly.
“But I think we make a good team.”
“The best,” he says.
“I think you need me,” I tell him, grinning at him.
“I fucking do.”
“Will you let me finish?” I say, laughing at him.
He mimes zipping his lips and I can feel his attention on me, even though his eyes are on the road.
“Like,” I’m still struggling to find the words, working my thoughts out aloud to him. “I think you might be the only thing I’ve ever been passionate about. And I’m sure there’s a shit ton of people that would tell us that’s unhealthy. But I’ve been on my own now. And I’ve been with you. And nothing feels as right as when we’re it’s you and me, making shit happen together. Like, I think this is how my life is supposed to be.”
I look over at him shyly, and can see his some sort of moisture in his eye from here.
“Are you…crying, Stone?” I tease him.
“Shut up,” he says. “I’m not crying, you’re crying.” His free hand rubs at his eye quickly before taking the steering wheel back, but the one on mine squeezes me tightly.
“That’s cute,” I tease him.
“I dare you to say that to my face when we get home.” He tosses out the challenge in a way that makes my stomach drop.
“Anyway,” I continue, like my boyfriend isn’t the sweetest (and sexiest) thing in the world. “I don’t know if everyone has something they’re meant to do with their lives. But the only thing I’ve ever really wanted to do with mine is to make a pretty awesome life with you. And I’m starting to think the rest of it is just how we get there. Your job, me working at the library, now my designs…” I trail off. “That’s all fine and fun. But I don’t really think it matters what I do for money. It’s all, just, whatever. I think being your partner, your person, is maybe what I was meant to be.”
I’m looking out the window, feeling a little shy at those thoughts making their way out of me, as we take an exit off the highway. Not the exit to Aaron’s house, that’s still a good half hour or more away, much closer to the mountains.
“What—?” I start to ask.
He pulls over into the first gas station we pass, jerking the car to a sudden halt, unbuckling his seat belt and launching himself over at me. He pulls my face in with both of his hands, one on either side of my head, holding me like I’m his entire world, and his eyes back that up, too.
“You really think you get to say that shit to me when I can’t show you how much you mean to me?” He growls against my mouth. “You’re my fucking world, Gem. Gonna make sure you know it every day for the rest of our lives.” He takes my mouth roughly, determinedly, with his, kissing me breathless for a minute. He pulls back, presses his forehead against mine and watches me as he tells me, “Nothing fucking matters to me without you by my side, okay? If you were meant to be mine, I was meant to be the earth to your sun. I’ll do whatever it takes to stay in your orbit, keep spinning around you. You are what gives me light, makes my world turn. Without you…it’s nothing but darkness, there’d be no life at all.”
It’s not just Aaron that’s tearing up now, and I know neither of us are going through anything alone again. That feels more right than anything else that’s happened in our story so far.
Go ahead, call us co-dependent or any other label you want. I’ve got my person by my side, and we’re tackling this shitstorm called life together. I don’t care about the rest of it.