EPILOGUE TWO - Scarlett
I have now been engaged to Dylan Brodie for a week and a half.
He has been on location at Big Bear Lake for a week, which means I haven’t seen him naked or felt his beautiful lips or capable hands on me for a week.
His marvelous penis has not been inside me or anywhere near me for a week.
We have Skyped every day, but this is the first time we’re doing it at night because it’s Friday and Noah is staying with his dad.
And by “doing it,” I mean we’re somehow going to do it over Skype, but I still don’t understand exactly how this is going to work.
Half a bottle of Pinot Noir has told me to just go with it and trust that my hot twenty-seven-year-old fiancé can do no wrong.
Seriously. I mean—as a marriage and family therapist, I can say without question that no man or relationship is perfect. But as my mother’s daughter, I can say that Dylan is an almost perfect melon.
It’s after midnight. He was on set for fourteen hours today.
He has been working long hours all day every day.
I have my laptop battery charged to one hundred percent, and I watched that Nicole Kidman Skype sex scene at the end of that Big Little Lies episode again to get some idea of how this will work.
I’m wearing the light and filmy little floral robe that I bought for this occasion over a red-silk-and-lace chemise, and I’ve lit about a dozen pillar candles all around my bedroom.
I’ve even Shazamed the song that was playing during the end of that Big Little Lies episode, and I have it ready to play on my phone.
Everything looks good and sexy, and I’m about to shut the door when I hear that Skype ringtone.
I immediately feel wanted and aroused and only a tiny bit nervous, but I accept that video call without hesitation and start that Leon Bridges song on Spotify.
It will never stop being a thrill to see Dylan’s gorgeous face fill the screen, his blue eyes lit only by his own monitor in his dark hotel room.
“Hey, baby,” I say as I crawl backward off the bed to where I have a cluster of pillar candles on a tray on top of a side table.
“Hey, beautiful. Where are you going? Come back.” He squints as he watches me.
I do a Stevie Nicks kind of gypsy dance, drag my fingers through my hair, down my neck, and between my breasts.
I sway my hips and bite my lower lip. The camera probably can’t even pick up my facial expression from over there though.
I roll my shoulders, let the robe slip down my arms, and do some semblance of a strip tease, closing my eyes and swaying to the music.
“Um. Baby… Scarlett!”
I open my eyes and see that the silk belt has landed on the candles and caught fire.
“Shit! Shit.” I run to the bathroom and dump the flaming robe into the sink, turn on the faucet. “It’s fine! I’m fine,” I call out.
I leave the wet robe in the sink and return to the bed, crawling onto it so Dylan can see me writhing around all sexy-like.
I’m just going to pretend that fire thing didn’t happen.
I bend forward in front of the camera, letting him see down the front of the chemise, and I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten all about the little mishap.
I toss my hair back and say, “Hey. I missed you so much today.”
“I missed you so much too, baby. You look so hot.”
“I am. I’m so hot and wet for you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I slowly lift up the bottom of the chemise. I’m not wearing panties.
Dylan pulls off his shirt, tosses it aside. His hand disappears into his pants. “Fuck, babe. I can’t wait till you come see me.”
“My body misses your body like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Yeah? What does your body want my body to do to it?”
“My body wants you to…” The Leon Bridges song suddenly stops playing because my phone is ringing. Adam’s name comes up on the screen. “Shit. It’s Adam. I need to answer in case it’s Noah.”
Dylan holds both hands up so I can see them. “Yeah yeah, I’ll wait.”
I cover myself up and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Adam says. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, I’m up. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Melissa let Noah have a little too much candy tonight so he can’t sleep and he wants to talk to you about something. Hang on.”
I give Dylan the thumbs-up to let him know nothing’s wrong.
“Mom?”
“Yes, honey. What’s up? You can’t sleep?”
“No, because I was thinking when we go visit Dylan in the mountains next week?”
“Yes?”
“How high up in the air will we be?”
“Um. I’m not sure. Probably over five thousand feet above sea level. Over six thousand, maybe.” I watch Dylan remove his pants on my laptop monitor.
“Is that high up? Like does that count as being up in space? Because what if we’re, like, inside a little room, right? And someone farts and then someone lights a match? Will the gases catch on fire?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It would be so cool if that happens.”
“Honey, you need to go to sleep, okay? I have to go. I love you so much. Good night.”
“Okay, good night.”
I hang up the phone, toss it onto the bed, and grab my boobs, checking the little video window to make sure I’m in frame.
“He had a fart question, didn’t he?” Dylan asks as his hand goes back down into his boxers.
“Shhhh. I’m touching myself.”
“Yeah you are.”
I let the straps drop from my shoulders and reach between my legs. “I’m thinking about you touching me.”
“That’s all I’m thinking about too.”
I lie back on the mattress and roll around a bit.
“God, you’re gorgeous. What’s it feel like down there between your legs?”
“I think you’d like it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, it’s so—” A Labrador Retriever suddenly jumps up onto the bed and licks my face.
“Smurf! No! Off the bed.” I signal for him to get down.
“Off!” My dog whines, but he obeys me. “Good boy. Good boy! Hang on. Let me shut the door,” I say to Dylan.
I usher Smurf out of the room and shut the door until it clicks.
When I return to the laptop, Dylan isn’t in the Skype window, but I can hear him calling out to someone. His face pops back into frame. “Shit. Sorry, the assistant director is knocking on my door. Can you hold on a sec?”
“Yeah, of course.”
I reach for the half-empty wineglass on my bedside table and polish it off. I’m going to win this Skype call. There will be no more interruptions.
A minute later, when Dylan returns, I’m on my knees on top of the mattress, striking a cheesecake pose.
“Shit.” He looks at his monitor and sees me. “Whoa. Nice… So, they changed the schedule. I have a big scene first thing in the morning and I need to learn my lines.”
“Crap.” I bring my face closer to the camera. “Do you want me to run lines with you?”
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll do it in the morning, but…
” He looks at his monitor, pouting. “Listen. I am always—always—turned on by you, baby. I would like nothing more than to just watch you get off while I get off. But I am so tired and I have to get up in six hours and do another full day. Can we try this again tomorrow night?”
I cover myself up completely and say, “I love you so much for saying that! I literally could not love you more than I do right now. Yes. Let’s go to sleep and try again tomorrow.”
“I wish I could wake up to your beautiful face.”
“I wish I could fall asleep looking at your handsome face.”
“I’ll see you in my dreams, beautiful. Good night.”
“Good night, I’ll see you—whoops!” I accidentally end the call. “Shit.”
I grab my phone to text him.
ME: Did not mean to hang up on you. I’m so sorry! I love you! Good night!
DYLAN: I forgive you. And I still want to marry you. Good night.