42. Ashton
ASHTON
“ W hat are you doing here?” Griffin growls.
I grasp his arm, holding him back. “I invited them.”
His head whips to me. “You what ?”
I keep a smile plastered to my face for the constant flashes in our direction. “I invited them.”
“They don’t have tickets.”
“I may have made a few phone calls and made some special arrangements.”
His jaw slacks.
I push it up with my fingers and trace his chin with my thumb. His expression softens slightly under my gaze.
I face our parents. “Under one condition. That your father attends only as your dad tonight. No business talk. He was invited to support one of the biggest roles of your career. One you deserve to be recognized for.”
Thomas looks chagrined at my scolding for the years he’s neglected Griffin and treated him so poorly.
Serves him right.
Thomas holds up his hands. “I’m only here to support you, Son.
And I hope you’ll forgive me for controlling your personal life too much over the years.
I’m just sorry it took this young lady here to point it out to me.
I’d like us to have the chance to start over.
” He holds out his hand toward Griffin to shake.
Griffin works his jaw back and forth, and I’m starting to wonder if I made a huge mistake inviting Thomas here. After an eternity, yet only a momentary pause, Griffin thrusts his hand outward and shakes his father’s hand.
I release a breath, my dress fitting more comfortably.
“But only because she invited you here and I respect her attempt to make peace.” He leans toward Thomas and whispers, “But you’re on probation.”
Thomas nods. “Understood.”
Griffin releases his hand and wraps his arm around my shoulder, leaning to my ear. “But why is she here?” he whispers, as though our parents can’t clearly hear his question.
“She is here because I’m extending a similar olive branch.”
Mom straightens, and her lips twitch. “I do appreciate that, dear.”
I called her after Griffin’s interview aired.
Cecily and I both did, together. I didn’t have any expectations for the conversation outside of explaining how detrimental being raised on TV was to our mental health.
And going forward, if we’re to have any kind of relationship, there would be boundaries.
To my shock, she actually apologized. She conceded that growing up on screen was more difficult than she had anticipated and promised not to include us in her future reality show ventures.
I doubt we’ll ever have a close relationship, but expressing my feelings alleviated some of the pain I’ve been holding onto for years.
I’m done closing myself off from people, including my mom. We may never be the Gilmore Girls, at least, not Lorelai and Rory—Emily and Lorelai maybe. Regardless, I’m tired of running. Tired of hiding from her. If I’m ever going to truly move forward, I need to forgive her.
Edith steps forward as if to give me a hug.
I tense and give a slight shake of my head. “We’re not quite there yet.”
Her lips purse. “Understandable. Thank you for allowing me to come.”
“Shall we get to it then?”
“Absolutely,” Thomas says as he ushers my mom forward with a hand around her waist.
We enter the theater as one happy family. Nearly.
The credits roll across the screen and the small, private audience cheers.
It’s with surprising calmness that I watched Scarlet and Griffin experience intimate moments on-screen.
Maybe it’s because I caught small ticks of hesitancy I’ve come to recognize in Griffin before their scenes—nothing anyone else would notice.
Or maybe it’s because, throughout the entire episode, Griffin held my hand and squeezed it.
Or traced his fingertips up and down my forearm.
Or placed soft kisses on my bare shoulder.
Or stared at me through nearly all the scenes.
I finally had to scold him to pay attention.
He merely chuckled and said, “Yes, ma’am.”
But I leaned over and whispered, “We’ll continue this later.”
His eyebrow lifted. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Now, the theater lights illuminate the room and we begin exiting the room, heading toward the main entrance.
Numerous people stop us to shake Griffin’s hand and congratulate him.
He smiles and replies with something brief, varying his responses here and there, until one man approaches and clasps his shoulder, holding him in place. We halt our steps.
“Young man, that was quite a performance.”
“Thank you.” Griffin shakes his hand. “Jack, this is my girlfriend, Ashton.”
Girlfriend . I’m a little awestruck as something new and bubbly fizzes in my chest. I manage a “Hi.”
“I’m glad you liked the show.”
Jack laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m talking about the interview with Gwen.”
Griffin’s eyebrows furrow, matching my own confusion. “I’m sorry?”
“You’re right. Hollywood politics are garbage. We should all toss the rule book out the window and start playing by our own rules.”
Griffin chuckles awkwardly. “Agreed.”
“You’ve got some morals and some backbone. I like that.” He nods toward me. “And clearly some excellent taste. I’d like you to come work with me on my next project.”
Griffin sputters. “Really? Moonstruck won you over?”
“That they did. With the understanding they keep loose reins on me. And I want you to be my guy. Film or television, I’ll let you take your pick. I’ve got production offers for both.” He pulls a card from his suit pocket. “Have your people call my people, will ya?”
“Absolutely. Yes sir, I’ll definitely do that.”
“See that you do.” Jack tips an invisible hat toward me. “Ma’am, a pleasure. You hold onto this one. He’s a good egg.”
I tighten my hands wrapped around Griffin’s arm. “Oh, I intend to.”