Not Guilty （n.） – Scarlett
NOT GUILTY (N.):
PLEA OF A PERSON WHO CLAIMS NOT TO HAVE COMMITTED THE CRIME OF WHICH HE/SHE IS ACCUSED, MADE IN COURT WHEN ARRAIGNED (FIRST brOUGHT BEFORE A JUDGE) OR AT A LATER TIME SET BY THE COURT.
SCARLETT
After the Curtain Closes
The theater is nearly empty by the time I step outside.
My mother left twenty minutes ago after hugging me twice, crying once, and making me promise that moving back to New York doesn’t mean I’m allowed to disappear from her life again.
The rest of the cast is somewhere inside celebrating another successful show.
And Jameson is standing in front of me with another bouquet of roses.
This time, I take them.
“What happens now, Jameson?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Are the scales of justice balanced enough for you?”
“They’ll never be completely balanced.”
“You know what I meant…”
“I do.” He slips his hands into his pockets. “I think I’m going to take some time off to focus on my personal life.”
“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “You have one of those?”
“I’m attempting to.”
“Well, good to know.” I glance down at the roses. “This was my last night on this show.”
His expression changes instantly.
“Why?”
“Because I miss New York,” I admit. “And the director offered me a pay increase to come back for the role I left behind.”
“When were you planning to tell me that?”
“I’m sure Rachel would’ve told you within days of me landing at the airport.”
His lips curve into a smile. “I’ve never asked her to stalk you.”
“Because she knows you well enough to do it anyway.”
“Fair.”
Silence settles between us, but for once, it doesn’t feel uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry I didn’t drop your father as a client,” he says. “I should’ve done it a lot sooner.”
“Like the night I first asked you to?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “A few weeks after that, though.”
“How romantic.”
“I’m being serious, Scarlett.”
“So am I.”
He gives me a look, and I smile.
“I know.” I step closer. “And I believe you.”
Something shifts in his expression.
For a man who can argue murderers out of prison and talk his way around almost anything, he suddenly doesn’t have a response.
I like him better this way.
“Are you going to ask me?” I say.
“Ask you what?” He arches a brow.
“If I’ve been with someone else.”
“No.” He trails a finger across my lips. “I know you haven’t.”
“You don’t know everything.”
“I know you.”
“I went on quite a few dates.”
“To make me jealous.”
“To try and move on.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
His smile comes slowly.
Arrogantly.
Very Jameson.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself,” I say. “I tried really hard.”
“I’m sure you did.”
“One of them was actually pretty great.”
“Scarlett.”
“He was.”
“Then why are you standing here with me?”
“Because he would never be you.”
The smugness disappears from his face.
Before he can say anything else, I grab the front of his shirt and kiss him.
He pulls me closer, wrapping one arm around my waist as the roses get crushed between us.
“And no,” he says against my lips, “I haven’t been on a date or spent a single second with anyone else since you left me.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were going to.”
“I really wasn’t.”
“You wanted to know.”
“Maybe.”
He kisses me again.
“And I never fucking will.”
I pull back just enough to look at him.
“That sounds dangerously close to a promise.”
“It is.”
“You have a pretty good record with those.”
“Perfect, actually.”
I smile, knowing exactly what he means.
Then I glance down at the bouquet trapped between us.
“You’re ruining my flowers.”
“I’ll buy you more.”
“I rejected all the other ones.”
“I know.”
“And you kept sending them.”
“I know.”
“What made you think I’d eventually take them?”
He looks down at me.
“The same thing that made me take your father’s case.”
“Your ego?”
“My inability to accept no as a final verdict.”
I laugh. “That was terrible.”
“You liked it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“Another lie.”
“The worst one?”
“Not even close.”
He kisses my forehead, then takes my hand and starts leading me away from the theater.
“Where are we going?”
“To celebrate.”
“My show?”
“Your show. Your return to New York.” He glances at me. “Us.”
I squeeze his hand.
“Jameson?”
“Yes, Scarlett?”
“If I change my mind about New York someday, you know you can’t stop me, right?”
“I know.”
“And if I want to take another role in California?”
“I’ll buy a house here.”
“If I want to spend my twenties traveling?”
“I have a passport.”
“And if I want to stay single for a while and date other people?”
He stops walking.
I bite back a smile.
“Why would you want to waste years experiencing disappointment?”
I laugh as he pulls me against him again.
“You’re still incredibly arrogant.”
“And you’re still the worst fucking liar I’ve ever met.”
“Good.”
“Why is that good?”
I wrap my arms around his neck.
“Because you’ll always know when I mean this.”
“Mean what?”
I kiss him once.
“I love you, Jameson.”
For once, he doesn’t have a sarcastic response.
He just looks at me.
Then he kisses me like he has all the time in the world.
And this time, neither of us has anywhere else to be.
End of Episode 3