Chapter 38
MICAH
Icouldn’t let go of her. The applause from the crew faded into background noise as I held Grace against me, feeling her heart pound against my chest. I had dreamt of holding her every night for weeks. I couldn’t believe how empty my life had been without her in it. My arms ached for her.
And now I had her and everything had been put out there for the whole universe. It was the best feeling in the world to have it out in the open.
“Come on,” I murmured against her hair. “Let’s get out of here.”
She nodded, her hand grabbing mine and squeezing tight. I understood the feeling. I’d spent three weeks convinced I’d lost her for good.
I took her hand and led her through the soundstage, past the grinning crew members and Toby, who gave me a thumbs-up.
We didn’t stop until we reached my car in the parking lot. I held the door open for her. Then got into the driver’s seat. Finally, just the two of us.
Grace turned to me, her eyes still glistening. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“I can’t believe it worked.”
She laughed. “What if I’d said I wasn’t interested in front of everyone?”
“Then I would have had a very embarrassing story to tell at dinner parties for the rest of my life.” I reached over and took her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “But I knew you wouldn’t say no. I knew what we had was real. I just needed you to remember it too.”
“I never forgot.” Her voice was quiet. “I just got scared.”
“I know. I was scared too.”
She squeezed my hand. “Where are we going?”
“My place. If that’s okay.”
“That’s more than okay.”
I kept glancing over at her, half-convinced she’d vanish if I looked away for too long. But she was there. Her hand still clasped in mine, her thumb tracing absent patterns across my knuckles.
When we finally pulled into my garage, I cut the engine and hopped out. I walked around to open her door.
“Micah?”
I looked at her and remembered just how gorgeous she was. Even with mascara smudged under her eyes and her hair slightly mussed from where I’d run my fingers through it. Maybe especially because of that.
I’d spent the last few weeks staring at her face through my monitors. But it was nothing compared to having her in front of me.
“I missed you,” I said. The words felt inadequate, but they were all I had. “Every single day. I’d wake up reaching for you, and you weren’t there. It felt like someone had carved a hole in my chest.”
Her eyes welled up again. “I missed you too. So much it scared me. I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”
I kissed her forehead. Her cheeks. The tip of her nose. Each kiss was a promise, a way of saying all the things words couldn’t capture.
“Come inside,” I whispered.
We made it to the front door. Barely. I had to stop twice to kiss her, unable to resist the pull of her lips, the warmth of her body pressed against mine. By the time we stumbled into the entryway, I was breathless and so was she.
“Wait,” she said, pulling back just slightly. “Before we go any further, I need to tell you something.”
My heart stuttered. “What?”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes met mine, exposing her vulnerability. “For running. For not talking to you. I shouldn’t have shut you out when things got hard. I should have trusted what we had instead of letting fear drive me away.”
“Grace, it’s fine.”
“No, let me finish.” She took a breath. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove myself.
Trying to earn my place without using my father’s name.
And when the scandal hit, all I could think about was how everyone would assume I’d slept my way into the role.
Nothing I’d worked for would matter anymore. ”
“That’s not true.”
“I know that now. But in the moment, I panicked. And I took it out on you. On us. You were the one person who actually believed in me.” She reached up and touched my face, her fingers gentle against my jaw. “I’m sorry, Micah. I’m so sorry.”
I pulled her into my arms, holding her tight. “You don’t need to apologize. I understand why you ran. I just couldn’t let you stay gone.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
I breathed her in, relearning the scent of her hair. I’d missed this so much. The simple intimacy of holding someone you loved.
“I have something to tell you too,” I said eventually, pulling back just enough to look at her.
“What?”
“That footage we just shot. Your reactions.” I smiled, watching the confusion flicker across her face. “I’m using it in the movie.”
Her eyes widened. “What?”
“The way you looked at me when I was giving that speech. The tears, the emotion, the way your whole face transformed when you realized what was happening.” I kissed the tip of her nose.
“It’s the most genuine, raw, beautiful footage we captured during the entire production. I’m cutting it into the final act.”
“But that wasn’t acting. That was real.”
“I know. That’s what makes it perfect.” I kissed her softly. “Our love is going to be immortalized on film, Grace. Every time someone watches Breathless, they’ll see the moment you realized I loved you.”
She stared at me, her lips parted in wonder. “That’s incredibly romantic.”
“I have my moments.”
“I don’t think there’s a woman on this planet that could give you that performance while looking at Jack,” I said. “Not even his wife.”
“Oh, poor Jack.”
She laughed and pulled me down for another kiss. I felt her fingers slide into my hair, something she did when she was ready for more. I sure as hell was. The heat between us built quickly, weeks of separation fueling the fire.
I lifted her without breaking the kiss, her legs wrapping around my waist as I carried her toward the bedroom. We barely made it. Clothes came off in a trail down the hallway. Her blouse. My shirt. Her jeans tangled with my belt somewhere near the doorway.
When we finally fell onto the bed together, I forced myself to slow down. I wanted to savor this. Savor her.
“I love you,” I whispered against her skin, pressing kisses to her jaw and down to the curve of her neck.
“I love you too.”
The words were the promise of a new beginning. I took my time relearning every inch of her.
Hours later, we were spent.
“I don’t want to move,” she murmured. “Ever.”
“Then don’t.”
“I have to eventually. I need food. Water. Basic human necessities.”
I chuckled. “I can order delivery. We never have to leave this bed.”
She tilted her head up to look at me, a smile playing at her lips.
“That sounds like heaven.”
“It does.”
We dozed for a while, drifting in and out of sleep, wrapped around each other. Every time I woke, I’d check to make sure she was still there. She always was. And each time, the relief washed over me and pulled me right back into a deep sleep.
When evening came, we finally dragged ourselves out of bed long enough to order Chinese. Grace had stolen one of my old UCLA shirts and seeing her in it did things to my heart I wasn’t prepared for.
“This is the best orange chicken I’ve ever had,” she said around a mouthful.
“You’re just saying that because you’re starving.”
“Maybe. But also it’s really good.”
I watched her eat, marveling at how comfortable this felt. No pretense. Just two people who loved each other.
“What happens now?” she asked, setting down her chopsticks.
“What do you mean?”
“With us. The movie. Everything.” She gestured vaguely. “The world still thinks I’m either a homewrecker or a gold digger. Our families hate each other. We have a press junket coming up where we’ll have to answer questions about our relationship. How do we navigate all of that?”
I reached over and took her hand. “Together. We navigate it together.”
“That simple?”
“That simple.” I squeezed her fingers. “Look, I’m not saying it’ll be easy. There will be questions we don’t want to answer. Gossip we can’t control. People who’ve already made up their minds about us no matter what we say.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“But here’s what I know.” I leaned toward her.
“I know that you’re the most talented actress I’ve ever worked with.
Your performance in Breathless is going to blow people away.
Anyone who actually watches the movie will see exactly why I cast you.
Not because I wanted to sleep with you. Because you were the only person who could bring Elena to life. ”
Her eyes glistened. “You really believe that?”
“I know it. And soon, everyone else will too.”
She leaned forward and kissed me. “Thank you. For believing in me. Even when I couldn’t believe in myself.”
“Always.”
We finished dinner and moved to the living room, curling up on the couch with a bottle of wine and absolutely no intention of watching whatever movie I’d put on in the background. We talked for hours instead.
“Maybe we can be the ones to end this family feud,” Grace said, swirling her wine. “The next generation, building bridges instead of burning them.”
“That’s very optimistic of you.”
She smiled at me over the rim of her glass. “I have good reason to be.”
When I woke the next morning, I lay there watching her sleep, feeling more content than I had in weeks. Maybe ever.
Eventually, she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and when she saw me watching her, she smiled.
“Creepy,” she murmured.
“Romantic.”
I laughed and kissed her forehead. “Breakfast?”
“Please. I’m starving.”
We made our way to the kitchen, where I discovered I had almost nothing edible in my refrigerator. Three weeks of moping hadn’t exactly inspired grocery shopping.
“Eggs,” I announced, holding up a carton. “And questionable cheese. I’ll order something.”
“We’ll order groceries and I’ll make you breakfast,” she said.
I grabbed my phone and pulled up the grocery delivery app, scrolling through options while Grace peered over my shoulder.
“Bacon,” she said. “Definitely bacon. And real cheese, not that questionable stuff you’ve got in there.”
“Noted.” I added it to the cart. “What else?”
“Butter. Fresh bread if they have it. Orange juice. Oh, and some of those little potatoes—the ones you can dice up for hash browns.”
I kept adding items as she rattled them off, watching her face light up as she planned the meal. There was something deeply satisfying about this. The domesticity of it. Grace in my kitchen, wearing my shirt, planning breakfast like this was something we’d done a thousand times before.
“Mushrooms,” she continued. “And green onions. Maybe some fresh herbs if they have them.”
“You’re making quite the feast.”
She grinned. “I haven’t eaten properly in weeks. And I’m guessing you haven’t either.”
I placed the order and set my phone on the counter. Thirty minutes until delivery. Grace was already poking through my cabinets, taking inventory of what I did have.
“You’ve got a nice kitchen,” she said, running her hand along the granite countertop. “It’s a shame you don’t use it.”
“I use it. Sometimes.”
She laughed. I leaned against the counter and watched her explore, opening drawers and examining my collection of pots and pans that had barely seen any action.
“These are nice,” she said, holding up a copper-bottomed skillet. “Professional grade. You really don’t cook?”
“My mother insisted I have a properly equipped kitchen.”
My phone buzzed, breaking the spell. The delivery driver was five minutes out.
“That was fast,” Grace said.
“I pay extra for priority.”
I met the driver at the door and brought the bags back to the kitchen, where Grace had already laid out cutting boards and bowls. I sat back with my coffee and watched her work.
I decided in that moment that there would be many more mornings like this. And nights.