Epilogue
Cal
Cal maneuvered his car through the heavy LA traffic towards Beverly Hills.
It had been one month since he’d been in the city.
Shortly after the premiere of When I’m in Your Arms, Ezra had called him into their office, told him he’d done a good job on the musical, and to take a well-deserved vacation.
They’d looked a little too smug when Cal had admitted that the musical hadn’t been as terrible as he’d feared.
So Cal had packed up his trunks and driven home to a little town just outside the Redwoods.
It’d been lovely to drive through quiet, winding roads, with the fog hiding the treetops.
It’d also been nice to see his folks and visit a few childhood friends; it’d been especially nice to be away from the public eye for a short while, to relax in a hammock and simply listen to the birds and feel the breeze on his skin.
He’d taken many naps, eaten some of the best home cooking he knew (besides Hilliard’s), and relaxed.
But he’d missed Jesse. He’d missed his own bed and his own pillow. He’d missed Edie and lunch at the deli. He’d missed the balmy weather. Hell, he’d even missed Fred—although he wondered how much of his wardrobe would still be waiting for him when he got back.
So when he turned up the long driveway, he breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of his home. He left his trunks in the car for the staff to take out later and strode through the front door.
Before he’d managed to toss his hat on the hat rack, Jesse was in his arms and kissing him.
“I missed you,” Jesse said against his lips.
“Probably not as much as I missed you.”
“Wanna bet?” Jesse said with a grin.
“You cheated me of the chance to go pick you up,” Cal protested.
Jesse chuckled. “Fred came and got me about half an hour ago.”
“That sounds about right. Now you see why I keep him around, pilfered clothes notwithstanding.”
“Heard that!” came Fred’s voice from down the hall, although he didn’t emerge to greet Cal himself.
“How is filming going?” Cal asked, ignoring his eavesdropping secretary.
While Cal relaxed in a hammock, Jesse was assigned his second picture, another musical, this time playing a young baseball player.
Powell had no intention of losing the momentum of his rising stardom.
Cal couldn’t wait to see the finished product—he was certain Jesse looked completely adorable in a baseball uniform.
“It’s fun. Not the same without you though.”
Cal led Jesse over to the sofa and Jesse straddled his lap as soon as he sat down. “I’ll bet you were great.”
“I was glad to have Director King again. Ezra said they’ve picked out your next picture already.”
“Of course they have.”
“We’re together again.”
Cal perked up at that. “We are?” Then he balked. “Wait. Is it another musical?”
Jesse laughed and kissed him. “I guess we’ll see when we get the script.”
“As long as it’s with you, I’m game for anything.”
Jesse slid his arms around Cal’s neck. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm,” Cal hummed. “I missed you.” He rubbed his hands up and down Jesse’s sides. “I thought I was going home for my vacation. But I was wrong. This is home. You’re home.”
“Welcome home, Mr. Campbell,” Jesse said softly.
Cal kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Then Cal scooped Jesse up into his arms and carried him upstairs to bed, his heart full, his spirit light, and his magic thrumming in his chest. It wasn’t quite like it was in the movies—there was no fanfare, no picture-perfect lighting, and no beautifully scripted romantic declarations between the two leads.
It was better—just him and the man he loved, holding each other close.
He would never have guessed that in teaching Jesse how to be a movie star, Jesse would teach Cal how to be himself again.
They laid under the covers, still in their underclothes, as Cal stroked light fingertips over Jesse’s jaw and cheek, through his hair. He pressed soft kisses to the other man’s temple and forehead, showing rather than saying how much he’d missed him.
Jesse began to hum under his breath and it took Cal a moment to recognize the tune: “When I’m in your arms, it’s only me and you…”
He chuckled. “We’ll never get away from that song, will we?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Jesse said with a grin. “I think it sums us up pretty nicely, don’t you? Besides, if we’re going to do more pictures together, I imagine we’ll add to the things that remind us of each other, rather than replace them.”
“You’re probably right,” Cal agreed.
Jesse began humming again and Cal was taken back to them dancing on the balcony, sitting in front of the observatory, holding hands on the beach, and he realized that Jesse was right. He let Jesse’s soft voice wash over him as he held him close, exactly as the song described.
“What I feel,” Jesse sang, his voice hushed, “is all that’s real when I’m in your arms.”
As Cal kissed him, he thought that maybe it was like in the pictures, only better.
No makeup to make them look fancier and no orchestration to carry Jesse’s words across the room.
But it was real and tangible—the warmth of Jesse’s body pressed up next to his, the lift of his mouth as he smiled.
As it turned out, they didn’t need the recording playing over them as they kissed and simply laid in each other’s arms because, as Cal realized for the first time, the song had been right all along.
The End