16. Dylan #2
“It’s been so long since we’ve talked.” She ignores me entirely, focusing all her attention on Dylan.
“I’ve been waiting for your confirmation about that upcoming project.
I know we had some… misunderstandings before, but I think we made such a great team.
We could do incredible things together if you’d just… ”
“Stop.”
The single word sharply cuts through her pitch. Dylan’s voice is quiet, but the authority in it makes several people at nearby tables glance our way.
“I have no business with you, Claudette. I told you that when I fired you, and nothing has changed.”
“Dylan, be reasonable.”
“Reasonable?” He stands now, and the movement draws more attention.
Journalists around the room perk up, sensing a story.
“You want to talk about reasonable? You spent months manipulating me into neglecting my wife. You deliberately positioned yourself between us. You told Selene to go back to cleaning her mansion while you took credit for work that should have been hers.”
Claudette’s carefully constructed smile is cracking. “That’s not… I never meant-”
“I already told you not to show yourself in front of me again.” Dylan’s voice rises, and now we definitely have an audience. “And you dare to do it in front of my wife? At her premiere? You’re shameless, Claudette. Absolutely shameless.”
The room has gone quiet around us. Phones lift everywhere, recording the confrontation. This will be all over social media within minutes.
“Dylan, please.” Claudette’s composure is crumbling. “Can we just talk privately? I’m sure if you’d just listen-”
“There’s nothing to discuss.” Dylan sits back down, his hand finding mine again under the table.
“You’re not welcome here. You’re not welcome anywhere I am.
The only reason I haven’t made your manipulation public before now is because I didn’t want to give you the attention.
But if you approach my wife or me again, I will make sure everyone in this industry knows exactly what kind of person you are. ”
He turns away from her, dismissing her completely, and focuses his attention back on the stage where the next presenter is taking the microphone.
Claudette stands there for a moment, her composure finally cracking. Then, without another word, she turns and disappears into the crowd, her chin high even as she retreats.
The buzz of conversation slowly returns to normal around us, but the curious glances come our way from nearby tables.
“That’s going to be everywhere by morning.” I keep my voice low.
“Good.” Dylan’s jaw is still tight. “People should know what she is. Everyone will see that I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting you.”
I should probably be annoyed. This is my premiere, my night, and now half the room is talking about my husband’s confrontation with my stepsister instead of my film.
But looking at Dylan’s face. The protective fury barely banked behind his eyes, the way his thumb is stroking circles on the back of my hand like he’s reassuring himself that I’m here, that I’m okay. I can’t find it in me to be upset.
He defended me. Publicly, unequivocally, without hesitation.
A year ago, he couldn’t even remember our anniversary. Tonight, he just told the entire industry that anyone who disrespects me will face consequences.
People can change. I’m finally starting to believe it.
My category comes up faster than expected.
“And the award for Best Directorial Debut goes to…”
I hold my breath, Dylan’s hand warm in mine.
“Selene Vance, for What She Didn’t See!”
The applause erupts around me, and for a moment, I’m frozen. I made this film from nothing. I wrote it and directed it and poured every ounce of my heartbreak and hope into it, and now it’s being recognized by my peers.
“Go.” Dylan’s voice is warm in my ear. “Go get your award, baby.”
I stand on shaky legs and make my way to the stage, the overwhelming applause washing over me. The statuette is heavier than I expected, cool metal against my palm, and I have to blink back tears as I approach the microphone.
“Thank you.” My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat. “Thank you so much. This film is… it’s deeply personal to me. It’s about what happens when we lose ourselves in someone else’s story, and the courage it takes to start writing our own.”
I find Dylan in the crowd. He’s on his feet, clapping with everyone else, but his eyes are only on me. I can see the pride in his expression, the love, the absolute certainty that this moment belongs to me and me alone.
“I want to thank my incredible cast and crew, who believed in this project when it was just a dream and a shoestring budget. I want to thank my team, who worked tirelessly to bring this vision to life.” I take a breath.
“And I want to thank the people who helped me remember who I was when I’d almost forgotten. You know who you are.”
I don’t name Dylan specifically. This isn’t his night, and I won’t make it about him.
But when our eyes meet across the crowded room, I know he understands.
He smiles, soft and private, just for me.
And I smile back, my heart swelling with what I finally recognize as hope.
***
Dylan
She’s magnificent up there.
I watch Selene accept her award, watch her deliver a gracious speech that’s utterly authentic, and a crack opens in my chest.
I almost lost this, almost lost her. This extraordinary woman who had every right to walk away and never look back.
But she didn’t. She gave me another chance. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making sure she never regrets it.
When she descends from the stage, I’m waiting at the edge of the aisle. She walks straight into my arms, the statuette pressed between us, and I hold her so tight I’m probably wrinkling her dress.
“I’m so proud of you.” I murmur the words into her hair. “So incredibly, stupidly, ridiculously proud.”
“Dylan.” Her voice is muffled against my chest. “People are watching.”
“Let them watch.” I pull back just enough to cup her face in my hands. “Let them see how much I love my wife.”
Her eyes are bright with tears she’s trying not to shed. “You’re going to make me cry and ruin my makeup.”
“You’d still be the most beautiful woman in the room.”
“That’s a lie and we both know it.”
“It’s the absolute truth and I’ll fight anyone who disagrees.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “Come on. Let’s get back to our table before you start a riot.”
She laughs, and the sound is everything.
We return to our seats, and I keep her hand in mine for the rest of the ceremony. I don’t care who sees. I don’t care what the gossip columns will say tomorrow.
All that matters is that she’s here, beside me, finally willing to let me love her again.
The rest of my life starts tonight.
And I’m going to make every single day count.