Chapter Twenty-One #3
No sooner do I say the words than the schedule appears in my
inbox, along with a press release she’s drafted for my approval.
“It looks like a pretty full morning and afternoon,” I
murmur. “And a busy week.”
“That makes sense. You’re a big deal. Everyone’s going to
want to talk to you.”
I love his support so much.
“But it looks like my last interview is at four today, so we
can definitely do something tonight.”
“Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”
“Really?”
He nods. “Really.”
I say the first thing that pops into my head because it’s
sort of our thing, and it makes me happy.
“I want to go to Newport Beach and get a pizza and drink
slushies and watch the sunset.” Just thinking about it makes me smile.
Meanwhile, Christian’s looking at me like I’m insane. “But…”
“Nuh-uh. You said we’d do whatever I want to do.”
He rewards me with a lopsided grin. “Your wish is my
command, beautiful girl.” He hops off the bed. “Do you have time for pancakes?”
“Always!”
Two months later, I’m dressed in the most beautiful
gown—second only to my wedding gown—and sitting next to the most handsome and
supportive husband in the world. I’m dazzled by the sea of celebrities. I’ve
worked with some of them, admired many of them, and I’m humbled to be sitting
among them all.
How is this my life?
I know my category is coming up, and I feel like I’ve been
breathing wrong for the last five minutes.
That’s the only explanation for why my chest feels so tight,
and my heart is pounding like there’s a drum line inside me. The next thing I
know, the category graphic flashes across the giant screen, the camera swoops,
the orchestra plays something dramatic and elegant, and suddenly, I am very
aware of how small I feel in the giant room.
“Breathe,” Christian whispers beside me, his fingers
squeezing mine. “You’re okay.”
“I’m not going to win,” I whisper automatically, like muscle
memory. Like armor. “It’s just…really cool to even be here.”
He gives me a look. Warm. Proud. Like he already knows a
secret I don’t.
“The nominees for Outstanding Character Voice-Over
Performance in an animated character role are…”
They start reading the names.
Each one is massive. Legendary. Powerful.
Then mine.
“Ella Lucas as Ashla Voss in The Echo Wars.”
The room applauds. A few cheers. I feel heat rush to my
face. I smile because I’ve practiced smiling. I haven’t practiced winning.
I’ve watched this moment millions of times from my couch,
but never thought I’d be sitting here waiting for it. I never thought an
animated warrior whose voice is mine, and who I helped create, would bring me
to this exact second in time where my entire life seems to be holding its
breath with me.
“And the Emmy goes to…”
Time stretches, bends.
I feel Christian’s thumb stroke the back of my hand, slow,
steady, and comforting.
“Ella Lucas, The Echo Wars!”
For half a second, I don’t react.
Ella Lucas. That’s…me. That’s my name. They said my name!
Christian laughs under his breath, joyful and stunned at the
same time, and then he kisses my cheek. Suddenly, I can move again. People are
clapping. A few are standing. Someone behind me screams. I press a hand over my
mouth because I can’t make my face behave, I can’t school it into any semblance
of calm.
I’m crying.
Great. Perfect.
Christian stands with me, his hand on the small of my back,
steadying me as my world tilts just a little in the best way possible.
“You did it,” he whispers, his voice thick. “This is your
moment.”
The stage is somehow both the longest walk of my life and
the shortest. The lights swallow me. The applause sounds like ocean waves.
They hand me the statue, and it’s heavier than I expected.
My voice wobbles immediately because…of course, it does.
“I…was not prepared for this,” I manage, and the audience
laughs softly, kindly, like they all know exactly what I mean. “I didn’t grow
up dreaming of winning an award for voice acting. I just…fell in love with a
character. A stubborn, fierce, snippy, brave girl named Ashla Voss, who taught
me how to fight, and grow, and help, and believe I could still get back up,
even when life kept knocking me flat.”
My breath shakes.
“I want to thank the Echo Wars team for trusting me
with her. For letting me grow up with her. For letting me share a heart with
Ashla.” I swallow. “To the fans who show up in costume, who write letters, who
tell me she helped them feel seen—you have no idea what that means. I share this
moment with you. Ashla lives in all of us.”
Then I find him in the sea of faces. Eyes bright, hands
clasped as if he’s holding the entire moment together for me.
“And to my husband,” I say, my voice softer now, more
private, even through the microphone, “who has stood
beside me in every season, who has lifted me up when I doubted myself, who
never once made me feel like I had to choose between love and ambition…this is
yours as much as it is mine. Thank you for believing in me, even when I
didn’t.”
Emotion swells again, and I swallow hard.
“I never thought I’d be standing here tonight. I never
thought…I’d be this person.” I laugh a little, the sound watery and
overwhelmed. “Thank you for letting me be her.”
The music swells, and I lift the Emmy, dazed and grateful,
and take a moment to absorb it all. As I walk off the stage, all I can think is
how I can’t wait to go back down to my seat, sit beside Christian, and hold his
hand.
Because this isn’t just my dream, it’s ours.
And this award is just as much his as it is mine.