31. Chapter 31
Aura
It’s fine. Everything is fine.
My dress is a little tight, my shoes are pinching my toes, and there’s a hair pin that feels like it’s trying to burrow through my skull.
I’m afraid to adjust it, at least until after the red carpet.
But I look fabulous. If only everyone knew what it costs in comfort to look this incredible maybe they wouldn’t be so eager to see us celebrities prancing around like prized show ponies.
I snort out a laugh as soon as the thought crosses my mind. Yeah, right.
They’d probably like it more. I’m sure a lot of members of the general public think we deserve to suffer a little in exchange for all the money we make.
But what they don’t understand is how unstable it can be.
How, unless you’re so well-established that you get paid a million dollars for a thirty-second cameo, you live your life on the edge until you book your next job.
How it can all come crashing down if you make a single wrong move. Or even, like in my case, if you don’t.
I reach up to rub at my chest, a telltale tightness forming there.
But that can’t happen. Not tonight. I specifically called my therapist this morning to try to put some strategies in place to avoid a panic attack tonight.
Of course, since I spent the entire time talking about Quint, the call turned out to be not that helpful for the anxiety.
But I got some guidance on how to handle things with Quint.
I have a plan now. After I get back to Balsam Grove, I’ll go over to Quint’s house, and we’ll talk this thing through.
I feel like a total asshole for putting the talk off, but I didn’t really have a choice with the shooting schedule.
Maggie had to cram in a few extra scenes since Sav and I were both leaving for the weekend.
Plus, I needed to formulate some kind of plan. Because I can’t just throw caution to the wind and jump into this without one. My anxiety could not handle that.
But Monday feels so far away, and this event is going to be loud and bright and crowded and I won’t have anyone to hold on to.
I won’t have Quint. I glance around the back of the limo, taking in all the little details to try to ground myself before I get inundated with sensory overload at the theater.
Black leather seats, a subtle trail of white lights along the floorboards, the hint of my reflection in the dark glass separating us from the driver.
The studio sent a car and Miles is still in Alberta so it’s a stranger in the driver seat.
I run my hand along the smooth surface of the seat as my assistant goes over her checklist of who I need to be seen with, who I need to give an interview to, and the general points I should be hitting about the film when I talk to people.
With over a year between the wrap of filming and the release, I barely remember anything about it, so I should probably be listening, but I just can’t focus on that right now.
And while I should be consumed with worry about the event, Quint keeps drifting back in to dominate my thoughts.
The car finally comes to a halt after shuffling along at a snail’s pace while everyone in front of us got dropped off.
“You got this,” Glenna says to me with a bright smile. It’s nice having her here in the limo. She’s an employee, but she feels like something more. Maybe not quite a friend, but definitely a friendly face.
“Thanks.” I smile back, my real smile, not my red carpet one, then turn to the window and crank up the wattage on my grin to an unnatural level while I wait for the driver to open my door.
The blinding lights hit hard, leaving me blinking away the black dots behind my eyelids.
“Aurelia, Aurelia!”
“Is it true, was it all a publicity stunt?”
“Over here, Aurelia!”
The onslaught of voices comes at me from all directions before I’ve even stepped out of the car, so I focus on carefully unfolding myself from the seat while maintaining the smile plastered on my face.
“Who are you wearing?”
“Quint, Quint!”
I wince at the sound of his name. I’m not going to answer any questions about him.
That much I’ve decided. I’m not making up any more stories.
I’m not sharing any more details, true or not, until I can talk to him about them.
Tell him how I really feel and see if his offer might still be on the table.
I resist the urge to rub at the knot in my chest again. I’m acutely aware of every minuscule action I make, knowing how quickly they can take any small motion and use it against me.
But as my breath quickens and I start to worry I can’t handle the chaos and the lights after months away from them, I see him, walking toward me.
“Quint?” I ask, blinking to clear my eyes. Have I sunk to full-on hallucinations?
But he’s still there when I open my eyes, walking away from a smiling Sav.
She winks at me from beside the entrance to the theater, then disappears inside as he continues to make his way toward me.
He’s moving against the crowd, and at first it’s a struggle.
He ducks to the left, contorts his body, slows to a stop and starts moving again.
While I remain planted in my spot, watching, hoping he’s real.
But then the crowd starts to part in front of him.
Celebrities in fancy dresses and sharp tuxedos shifting so the cowboy can make his way toward me.
Except he doesn’t look much like a cowboy tonight.
Tonight, he’s dressed to fit in. The tux is modern, molding to his body in a way that makes it look like it was custom-tailored for him.
His shaggy hair is slicked back away from his forehead, and his hazel eyes are sparkling under the lights and camera flashes. He looks hot, but something’s missing.
And then he’s finally standing in front of me. I reach up to smooth a hand down his chest to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination.
“Where’s your hat?”
He chuckles, face twisting in confusion. “I didn’t think it worked with the outfit.”
“Oh, it would have worked. Wear it next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “But why are you here? How did you get here? I have so many questions.”
He holds out an arm for me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “And I’ve got answers, but how about we run this gauntlet first. Maybe we can talk about everything once we’re inside.”
Right. I shake myself out of it. There are cameras everywhere, microphones to pick up the slightest conversation. Not what either of us need right now.
“Okay.” I slip my arm through his, and we step forward into the fray.
The lights are still as bright, the shouts are just as loud, but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with him at my side. His solid presence is a silent buffer between me and the cameras. All eyes are fixated on me, on us, but I’m only looking at him.
We smile for the cameras, stopping to answer questions where we need to. He smiles and nods, but doesn’t say much, deferring questions to me when they’re directed at him.
“Why are you still putting on this show? We all know this relationship was never real.”
I look the reporter up and down, stepping forward to address the absurd question. I’m too fired up to think about how much I might regret this in the morning.
“That’s a pretty big assumption. The only two people who know the status of our relationship is me and him. And that’s all that matters. We’re here. We’re together, so take your pictures and move on. It’s none of your damn business.”
My silky red skirt swishes around my ankles as I spin around and step back over to Quint. My hands are shaky and my heart is racing from the adrenaline of the confrontation but I’m okay. Or I will be.
Quint grabs my trembling hand, giving it a squeeze, and hustles us through the last few feet of red carpet, guiding me through the door with his hand on the small of my back.
“You okay?” he whispers against my ear once we’re inside the safety of the dimly lit theater.
“Yes, I am. Now that you’re here.”
“I’m sure glad about that. I half expected you to turn me away on the red carpet.”
I lead him through the crowd and over to an alcove under the stairs that I’ve escaped to a few times before. And as soon as I have him to myself, I push up on my toes to give him a kiss.
It tastes sweeter than any single kiss before.
We move in sync, pushing and pulling, exploring each other’s mouths as if we can’t breathe without the other.
I’ve started to think maybe that’s the truth.
Maybe I can’t breathe when he’s not around.
Not anymore. Not now that I know what it’s like with him at my side.
We finally part, breathless and heated. “I’m so sorry,” I say, running a palm down his sculpted cheek.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I know it was your publicist that spilled the news to the press, and I also know you fired her.”
“Wait, what? How do you know all that?”
He looks a little sheepish. “Me and Sav had to talk about something to pass the time on the way here.”
I glance around the crowded lobby, but don’t see any sign of my flame-haired friend.
“Makes sense. Just hope my new publicist will actually keep my best interests in mind. But that’s not what I was apologizing for.
I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner about what was going on in my head.
It was just messy and disorganized, and I was so busy filming.
I knew I couldn’t just send you a text about it.
That wouldn’t have been fair. But then I was worried you’d give up on me after all I’ve put you through. ”
He slides one hand up to cup the back of my head, staring deep into my eyes. “Give up? After all we’ve been through together? What kind of man do you think I am?”
I shift back on my heels. “It’s not about you. It’s my brain, constantly on high alert. Always looking for the next threat. I make up these wild scenarios in my head. Worst-case type stuff. But I’m working on getting better at recognizing when I’m catastrophizing.”