Chapter 49 New Year’s Eve
49.
New Year’s Eve
When Liz awoke in the Audrey Hepburn suite the morning of New Year’s Eve, the first thing she did was reach for her phone.
Vi still hadn’t texted. The last message in their thread remained the same. Liz dropped her device back onto the bedside table, heavy with disappointment and worry. How was Violet? Had the invasive online feeding frenzy after their public almost-kiss triggered her depression? Was she in one of her darker places, one absent of hope and joy and belief in good things? Liz would understand if Violet was already back in L.A., wordsmithing a message that called everything off, for good. As each day passed without an update, that seemed more and more likely.
So when Liz’s phone lit up, midafternoon, she instinctively braced herself. But it wasn’t Violet.
“Vampires!” Cat gushed into the phone. “I love it. So gothic-teen sexy.”
“You like the pitch?” Liz hadn’t yet heard from anyone else in her brain trust, so this first piece of positive feedback was significant. “I’m so relieved. Violet was a huge part of it. You were right—having her here was invaluable.”
“Is she still there?” Cat’s tone was light, but Liz could tell the publicist was fishing.
“No.” An ax in her heart. Liz rubbed her chest as she attempted to keep her voice noncommittal. “I think she’s back in L.A.”
“Oh. Sure.” Cat sounded vaguely disappointed before perking up again. “Well, this might cheer you up. A little birdie tells me you are about to get a second season order!”
Liz’s entire being screeched to a stop. “ What? ”
“Don’t be mad, but I may have slipped the pitch to Programming and everyone is obsessed ! I hear the execs have notes, and there are some budget issues, but, overall, they’re in. Congratulations!”
Joy skipped through Liz’s body. She’d done it. They’d done it. It wasn’t just fantastic news. It was, definitively, a reason to call Vi. And yet, Liz couldn’t. Violet wanted space.
Possibly permanently.
—
Downstairs in the family room, Birdie, Rafi, and Ash were on their phones, scrolling in companionable silence, while Babs read a script in the armchair closest to the crackling fire.
Liz cleared her throat. “So, we got the second season order.”
All four clicked their heads over, eyes popping wide.
“For your show?” Rafi and Ash spoke as one.
“Your brilliant show,” Babs added, reaching for her cane.
Liz nodded, and then everyone was hugging and high-fiving her, celebrating.
“Congratulations, Lizzie.” Babs gave her a big squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. My talented daughter.”
Liz forced a smile. “Thanks, guys.” This should be a victory lap. Getting a second season was her ultimate goal, what she’d been working toward for ages.
Rafi was the first to notice. “What is it?”
Birdie narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, why are you not, like, getting a tattoo of your own face?”
Liz let out a heavy exhale.
“Ooh.” Birdie nodded. “Methinks this is about Grace Face. Or, as the kids are calling you: Violez.”
Liz dropped her head into her hands. “The kids don’t know shit.”
Babs stroked Liz’s back, pointing back at the sectional. “Sit,” her mom instructed. “Spill.”
“Start at the beginning,” Rafi said. “And don’t skip anything, except the sex stuff.”
“Seconded,” Birdie said. “I think we’ve all heard enough of the sex stuff.”
And so, Liz spilled. She told them about meeting this girl, this woman, this muse, this best friend. The year’s wild ride into the most insane corners of her creative mind, and the actor who made it all happen. Their early days eating green olives in the courtyard of Violet’s Airbnb. Their karaoke night at Palms. Their first kiss in Rome. Liz’s words flowed with increasing speed as she pieced together everything that had happened, ending on the past few weeks. “When we’re together, everything just feels right. I love her mind and who she is. Who she makes me. Who we are together.” A bubble of emotion burst in Liz’s chest. In its place: clarity. The truth. Her words were stunned. “Jiminy Christmas. I’m in love.”
It was as clear as a cloudless sky. As obvious as the sun in it.
“I’m in love with Violet,” Liz said. “I love her.”
Birdie clapped a hand on Liz’s shoulder. “I think I speak for all of us when I say: duh.”
Liz stared back at her family, feeling like a newborn lamb unsteady on its feet. “What do I do now?”
“Tell her!” Birdie exploded, thumping a couch cushion. “Make it canon!”
“But she said she needed more time!” Liz exclaimed.
“Then be patient,” Ash said.
“She’ll reach out when she’s ready,” Babs added, sounding convinced.
Rafi leaned back into Ash, lacing their fingers together. “In the meantime, make a Christmas wish.”
“It’s New Year’s, bro.” Birdie settled back into the couch cushions, unlocking her phone. “Christmas is ov-ah.”
“A New Year’s Christmas wish,” Rafi amended. “Make one about Violet.”
“A New Year’s Christmas wish?” Liz repeated. If nothing else, these holidays had encouraged her to think outside her box, one that typically didn’t allow for woo-woo wishes. It felt like an indulgence to imagine a wish in full. With extra Christmas cheer and a dollop of New Year’s magic.
In the hearth, the fire popped, logs shifting.
Birdie peered at her phone. “Huh.” She looked up, brow furrowed. “So, Violet just went live on Insta.”
The words were like a bucket of water over Liz’s head. “What?”
Outside of meticulously curated sponsorship or press commitments, Violet had never gone live on any social platform. Ever.
“Now.” Birdie handed Liz her phone. “She’s on now.”
In the small screen, Violet sat cross-legged on a partially made bed. The room was instantly familiar: a suite at the Woodstock Way Hotel.
Violet. Was still. In Woodstock.
No makeup. Hair in a topknot. Dressed in sweats and her light pink hoodie. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes overbright. Vi looked—happy?
“—never really done one of these before. Oh, wow.” Her gaze moved to the flood of messages pouring in, visible to everyone watching. She read some aloud. “Hi from Brazil. G’day from Australia.”
“Is this a video?” Babs examined it.
Birdie rolled her eyes, explaining the basic concept of live streaming.
Liz’s stomach was on spin cycle. Was Violet confirming she and Liz were just friends? That #Violez didn’t exist?
Or was this something else?
“Hi, everyone.” Violet waved at the camera. The phone slipped, swooping to end on the room’s unmoving ceiling fan. “Whoops.” Violet giggled, righting the device. The bottom edge of the T-shirt she was wearing under her hoodie came into frame. A soft gray T-shirt. The shirt.
“The holidays are almost over.” Violet addressed her online audience. “And till now, I’ve never been that into Christmas.”
Thirty thousand people were watching. Liz was peripherally aware of the endless flow of comments and hearts. She couldn’t take her eyes off Violet.
“My parents died when I was young,” Vi went on. “So I didn’t have a proper Christmas, for years.” She paused to inhale, a smile lifting her lips. “But this year, I was lucky enough to spend the past few weeks with the most wonderful people, and y’know what? I got it.”
Liz could barely hear her family squawking, she was so focused on Violet.
“Sometimes, the holidays can be tricky.” Violet’s expression was knowing. “Sometimes things don’t go as planned.” And it almost felt like she was looking directly at Liz. Speaking directly to Liz. “Maybe we say things we regret. Or maybe we don’t say enough.”
Next to her, Rafi gasped.
“I couldn’t wait any longer.” Violet’s eyes were planets, asteroids, the moon. “To tell the people closest to me how much I care about them. Or really, person. One in particular.”
Birdie made a strangled sound of excitement.
Liz’s heart was smashing against her ribs. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t talk, couldn’t move.
“So. In case there’s any confusion.” Violet smiled directly into the camera. “I love you, Liz Belvedere.”
Liz’s heart exploded out of her chest and set itself on fire.
“Oh my god !” Birdie screeched, shoving Liz. “She just said I love you ! To everyone !”
“How romantic!” Babs gasped, a hand pressed to her chest. “When did she record this?”
Rafi gaped at Liz, eyes agog. “Was that your New Year’s Christmas wish? Was it? ”
Ash was fist-pumping and yelling about love winning. Liz could barely hear Violet over their hysteria.
Violet was waving at the camera, the look on her face untethered and joyful. “Jolly Christmas, y’all.”
The live stream ended. And Liz was just…staring. In shock.
I love you, Liz Belvedere.
I love you.
Birdie, Rafi, and Ash were jumping around the room, hurling throw cushions in the air. “Liz loves Violet!” Birdie bellowed. “And Violet loves Liz!”
Hot, mad joy. It wasn’t a secret. It was real and true and happening, right now. Liz rocketed to her feet. “I have to go!”
“ Go! ” everyone urged her.
The drive to Vi’s hotel took thirty minutes. It was torture not to floor it.
When she arrived, she zoomed into the hotel parking lot and bolted out.
The check-in area at Woodstock Way was all leather sofas, funky artwork, plants. Liz was so wound up it took a moment to locate the front desk. She sprinted for it, the order racing from her lips: “Violet Grace, I need to see Violet Grace! She’s a guest, I’m a friend.”
The cheerful young concierge appeared unperturbed by Liz’s frantic arrival. “Violet Grace, Violet Grace…” He tapped his keyboard, not at all in a rush. “Sorry: computer’s running a little slow…So, New Year’s Eve. Any big plans?”
Liz’s heart was thrashing in her chest. “No plans, sorry, I really need to—”
“Violet Grace just checked out,” the young man read from his computer before giving Liz another frustratingly chipper smile.
Panic spiked Liz’s bloodstream. “Checked out? When? Where? Is she?”
“Guests tend to enjoy the local area for its quaint holiday charm and—”
“I know!” Liz was a just-popped can of soda, shaken for a full ten seconds. “I have to go!”
“Happy New Year’s!” came the peppy call after her.
Liz ran back outside, whipping in a circle—no one. Where next? The town? Belvedere Inn? Her instinct to get to Violet was the most powerful urge she’d ever experienced, transcending desire into desperate need. Liz whirled in a circle, searching, searching—
“Liz.”
She was there. Ten feet in front of Liz, duffel bag slipping off one shoulder.
All at once, Liz was swept back in time to the first day they met at the audition in L.A., before being buoyed forward on a choppy current of memories: the first time Vi hugged her, quick and excited, after Liz called it’s a wrap on the pilot; the time Liz had a cold and Vi arrived on her doorstep with a Le Creuset of chicken noodle soup; that one day on set when everyone had the giggles, even the grip, and they had to shoot a family dinner scene eleven times; being stuck in L.A. traffic, singing along to “Islands in the Stream” ( That is what we are ); the time when Liz asked Vi how her first same-sex kiss scene went (Lila Fowler and Jessica Wakefield, seven minutes in heaven at a party) and Violet had replied, Fun, holding her eye contact three beats too long. And all the smiles and touches and intimate moments that kept building and Liz kept denying until Violet kissed her wrist—her wrist!—in Rome and everything changed and now they were here, in upstate New York, at the end of the craziest year on record, and nothing mattered except this.
Liz ran to Violet, cupping her face with both hands. “I love you. I’ve fallen in love with you, Vivi, and it’s the most beautiful feeling in the whole world.” Liz’s eyes were filling with tears. She didn’t need to protect herself anymore, she didn’t need to fight it. It was so simple. It was so true. “I love you. I love how I feel when I’m with you. I love that you’re smart and kind and funny and soulful and I feel like I’m learning from you, all the time.” The words were free-flowing, a glorious rush. “You have depression and I love you. I’m an earnest dork and I love you. So much, I love you so much. And I’m going to tell you that every day, wherever we are, for as long as you’ll let me.”
Violet’s hands were over Liz’s, pressing into them. She was smiling so big, so joyful, the bridge of her nose crinkled. “I love you too, Lizzie. So much. ”
Their lips touched and Liz heard angels break into song. Even though it wasn’t their first kiss, it felt like it was. Because it was the first kiss now, here, in this new space. A space out in the open, flooded with daylight.