26. Epilogue
Briggs
The next couple of months go like this: I visit Presley as much as I can while she films Cosmic Fury , and we go to a few places in the United States I’ve never seen before. Places like the Badlands in South Dakota, with its unique rock formations and barren expanses, and White Sands National Park in New Mexico, where the endless white sands will end up looking like a desolate, icy planet in post-production.
I feel bad for the cast, who have to wear winter clothes in the high temperatures, but not bad enough to come out of Presley’s air-conditioned trailer.
The Redwoods in California are probably my favorite thing so far—all those towering, monstrous trees and the morning fog weaving through them like a ghostly blanket. We go on walks during her breaks, enjoying the cooler weather, and talking about future plans, which right now seem distant since Presley won’t be done with this shoot until next March, at the earliest .
“I think I should buy a place on Sunset Harbor,” she says, wearing a light jacket and a black knit cap over her dark hair. Her arm is linked through mine and she leans against me as we walk, pine needles and leaves crunching under our feet.
“I bet my mom would sell you the princess apartment,” I tell her.
She looks up at me, her eyes widening. “Really?”
“I was kidding,” I say, reaching up and fiddling with my glasses. “You’d actually want to buy it?”
She nods. “I have a lot of fond memories in that apartment.”
I chuckle. “So do I.”
I’m still living in my mother’s childhood dream above the bookshop, at least for another couple of months while Jack and I try to figure out office space. It looks like it will most likely be back in Fort Lauderdale. For now, we’ve been working on our own and having meetings on Zoom. Things are going well and moving quickly, so I don’t anticipate our current setup lasting much longer. If we want to grow this business—and that’s the plan—we’ll be better off in the same office.
Until then, I’ll continue to work from wherever Presley is, using her breaks from filming to help her run lines and getting in trouble when I mess up her hair and makeup after kissing her soundly.
Getting to see her in her element has been captivating. I knew she was a great actress because I saw her perform on screen, but to watch her live, to see her fall into the role of Callis like it’s something she’s been doing for years, is incredible. And I get a front-row seat for all of it. I don’t love that front-row seat as much when she has to kiss Landon West, though. I’d prefer a back-row seat. Something very far back. Another time zone would be preferable.
She rarely has downtime long enough to go anywhere, but when she does, we take advantage of it. One weekend in August, Presley went back to Sunset Harbor with me for a wedding, and a couple of weeks later, I attended a charity gala and an awards show with her.
Being by her side on the red carpet is not my favorite thing. Don’t get me wrong—I love being there with her and enjoy watching her pose for cameras and answer questions with ease, but I also feel a bit like a cat at a dog show. I’m awkward, and it’s obvious in the pictures. Jack has made a computer screensaver out of a particular shot of me with wide eyes and triple chins. What a jerk.
I’ll keep taking terrible pictures by Presley’s side for as long as I can. Once we get the office up and running, I won’t have as much opportunity, and I’m savoring every moment I get to spend with her .
Presley
When Briggs has to go back to the office for AssistGen, I become a stage-five clinger. A long-distance one, but that doesn’t stop me from texting and calling and wishing every waking hour that I was with him instead of on this stupid movie set. A month goes by without seeing him in person, and all I want to do is kiss his face off, but I have to wait until our break for Thanksgiving to get the opportunity. When the holiday finally comes around and he’s there waiting for me at the Fort Myers airport so we can take the ferry to Sunset Harbor together, I not only kiss his face off, I also cry like a big idiot.
Thanksgiving is perfect, just Briggs and me with his mom and sister. Marianne usually likes to invite other Sunset Harbor residents to join them, but she keeps it small for me, which I adore her for doing. She makes the most incredible turkey with a white gravy that I’d honestly like to drink, but I hold myself back since I’m still having to dress up like Callis and those costumes are not that forgiving.
For the short duration we’re on the island, I find time to close on the house I bought. It’s right on the beach and has a wraparound porch where I plan to spend as much time snuggled up with Briggs as I can, once our schedules slow down. Which won’t be until February for me, and for Briggs . . . well, we don’t know when that will happen. I try not to think about it or I get twitchy with anxiety.
A month later, production takes a longer break for Christmas, and I spend every minute of it with Briggs. I introduce him to my dad, who, like everyone who meets Briggs, likes him instantly. We have dinner on Christmas night with my dad and my grandparents. Rounding out the party like some weird Hollywood dramedy, my mom and Declan Stone join us. They’re still going strong, which is just . . . great. But having them there was not as weird as I was anticipating, even if on paper it all sounds very strange.
When February rolls around and filming wraps, I don’t bother going to my house in Calabasas; I head to Florida to be with Briggs. He takes some time off from work and we head to Sunset Harbor, lying on the beach and soaking up the sun, and of course snuggling up on the porch at my new home.
“Do you know what I think?” I ask him as we sit tangled together on a two-person swing that I purchased for this exact purpose, listening to the waves as they crash against the shore and gazing at the moon lighting up the night.
“What’s that?” Briggs asks, his hand making lazy patterns on my arm as he holds me close.
“I think we should quit our jobs and just do this for the rest of our lives. ”
He sighs. “That’s a great idea. Maybe the best one you’ve ever had.”
“I agree, I’m a genius,” I say.
“You are. But . . . you’ve got contracts and I’ve—”
“Contracts, shmontracts,” I cut him off. “Stop ruining my dreams, Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”
I don’t want to think about the next movie, which starts shooting in three months. This one, a spy thriller set in the 1940s called Operation Dark Horizon , won’t be as long of a shoot as Cosmic Fury —or as intense, thank goodness.
But filming another movie means being away from Briggs, and I hate the thought of it. I have to deal with it though, because my time off, which I spend soaking up every moment with the love of my life while bouncing back and forth between Fort Lauderdale and Sunset Harbor, flies by. Before I know it, it’s time to go back to work.
Briggs
“You look miserable,” Jack declares as we finish a planning meeting on a hot summer day the following August. We’re sitting in his office, the only one with floor-to-ceiling windows, which I lost in a game of rock, paper, scissors.
“What makes you say that?” I ask him, a light, modern-style desk between us .
“It’s pretty obvious, Dalton,” he says. “It’s the puffy eyes that really give it away.”
With the time difference between here and Burbank and Presley’s schedule for the movie she’s working on, I’ve been staying up late to FaceTime her. Often, it will be three in the morning for me when we finally say goodbye. It’s not ideal, but it’s what we’re doing to make this work.
I let out a breath, swiping a hand down my face. “Long-distance relationships suck,” I tell him.
Jack looks at me, his elbows on the desk, fingers steepled. “So don’t do the long-distance thing,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say, sarcastically. “Wouldn’t that be great.”
Great, but not really possible. We’re definitely on an upward trend with AssistGen, bringing on more and more clients and making a steady income, but we have a long way to go before I can just pick up and go where I want.
Jack has taken on the role of CEO and I’m the COO, and it works, especially with the team of ten we have working for us now. Except for the few hiccups you’d expect from a startup, things have been running smoothly for the most part. The luxury of not being here for the day-to-day seems like a far-off dream.
Jack lifts a shoulder and lets it drop. “I’ve been thinking about it, and with the time difference between Fort Lauderdale and the companies we’ve been working with in Tokyo and Shanghai, having you in California would be beneficial.”
I furrow my brow at him. “Okay, but what about the other work I do?”
“You can do it from there,” Jack says. “We’d miss your pretty face, of course. But I think we could make it work. And if we don’t, you can always come back.”
“Have I been that miserable?” I ask.
“The worst,” he says, giving me a solemn-looking nod before his lips break into a smile.
I don’t jump on the idea right away, but after plenty of discussions working out the logistics, I go to California, back to working in Presley’s trailer while she’s on set, running lines with her and ruining her makeup when she has a break.
I’ve never been happier.
Presley
“What are you thinking about?” Briggs asks me as we snuggle up on the couch at my house in Calabasas—the one that will no longer be my permanent residence come November when shooting for Operation Dark Horizon is done. Just one month from now.
The house on Sunset Harbor is where I’ll call home for the foreseeable future, especially when I take a much-needed break. Thanks to my own planning and some contract cancellations resulting from the viral video that has finally died down quite a bit, I have no upcoming projects and I’m going to keep it that way for a while. I just want to be where Briggs is; that’s my plan. I’ll have to do some press tours when these last two movies I’ve worked on are released, but I’m hoping to drag him with me for all of that.
I can’t wait to make the island my home. The residents of Sunset Harbor have been so great to me. Protective, even. Somehow—I’m guessing probably because of the workings of Marianne and Scout—no one leaks anything to the gossip sites or the paparazzi when I’m there. Some of them have also taken to keeping an eye out for any suspicious-looking visitors and reporting them to me. Most of them have been false alarms, but I do appreciate it. I’m amazed at how I can walk around almost freely. It might be the most normal my life has ever been.
“I’m thinking about how happy I am to be here with you,” I tell Briggs. He’s been gone for the past two weeks, back to Fort Lauderdale for meetings, and I’ve hated every minute of it. I turn my head just slightly to give him a light kiss, which quickly morphs into something not so light.
“I guess there is something else I’ve been thinking about,” I say, once we come up for air from all the kissing. I’m now wrapped in his arms, his nose nuzzling into my neck.
“What’s that?” he asks .
“Marrying you,” I say bluntly. I hadn’t been thinking of that exactly, but it has been on my mind. A lot. I’d like to keep Briggs in a permanent way.
He pulls away from my neck so he can see my face. “Marrying me?”
I smile and give him one quick nod. “Have you never thought of it?”
The hypothetical subject has come up, of course, but more like possibilities and not something that’s a foregone conclusion. He doesn’t know it’s been that way for me ever since he showed up on the set of Cosmic Fury —I was done for from that moment on.
He leans in and kisses me on the lips. “Every day,” he says.
“You have not,” I say with a giggle.
“You don’t believe me?”
I shake my head. I guess I do believe him, though, since I’ve thought about it every day as well.
"I have proof," he says, pushing up from the couch and getting to his feet. He quickly jogs over to his computer bag, which is sitting by the front door.
Butterflies dance around in my stomach as I sit up, running my fingers through my tousled hair, anticipating what his proof might be. They multiply when he walks back toward me with a nervous smile .
“Let’s see this proof,” I say, standing up from the couch as he approaches.
He swallows. “I’ve had this for three months,” he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a black, velvet box.
“Oh,” I say breathily, reaching a finger out and touching the soft material of the case. It’s real proof. I thought he was going to show me a text he sent to his mom or something. But this is the real thing.
He snatches it back like I was about to grab it, and we both laugh.
“You’ve had it for three months?”
“Yes, but I’ve been looking for nearly a year.”
“You have?”
He nods. “I had different plans for this,” he admits, looking down at the box in his hand before he bends down on one knee in front of me.
I start to tear up. I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t even mean to say that I was thinking about marrying Briggs; it just came out, and now here he is in front of me, about to propose.
“Wait, what were the plans?” I ask, wanting to know what he had in mind for this moment.
“I was thinking of doing it on the beach under the stars,” he says, looking up at me.
“On a sleeping bag with Keith’s binoculars?” I ask, remembering that night almost a year and a half ago .
“Yes,” he says.
“Well, what if I want that? The whole stars-and-beach thing?” I ask him.
“You want to wait?” he asks, standing back up.
I nibble on my bottom lip. I so badly want to see what’s in that box. I mean, I know what it is, but I want to see what he picked out. I want to see it and then I want to say yes and put it on my left hand and never take it off. But I also want what Briggs has envisioned.
“Yes,” I tell him. “I want what you were planning.”
“Okay,” he says, putting the velvet box back into his pocket.
“Don’t make me wait too long,” I say.
“I’ll do my best,” he promises, before pulling me in for a kiss.
Briggs
I do have to make Presley wait longer than I’d intended, but by the time she’s finished filming and is settled in her house on the island, we have a week of on-and-off rain. This isn’t uncommon for December, but it’s not conducive to a night on the beach under the stars.
When things finally align—the weather is good, and we’re both available—I enlist Scout to help me bring Presley to the beach, which she is more than happy to do .
“I’ve always wanted a sister. And especially one who can introduce me to Timothée Chalamet,” she says before I shoo her off to go get Presley.
It takes Scout a bit longer than I was anticipating, which gives me enough time to work up a bunch of nervous energy. But when I see Presley walking toward me, a smile on her face, all my anxiety falls away.
“Hello there,” she says as she walks up to me. I’m standing at the edge of the setup I’ve put together—the beach blanket with the sleeping bags on top. I’ve placed lanterns around to give us some light and I’ve also thrown some rose petals on top of the bedding, as well as some on the sand around us. My mom sent me with a basket of goodies, some snacks, and some champagne and glasses to celebrate.
That is, if Presley says yes. Which I’m pretty sure she will. But who knows, maybe she’s changed her mind in the last six weeks.
“Hi,” I say, now feeling slightly nervous that we might not be on the same wavelength. I grab her by the hand, giving it a little squeeze.
“So,” she says, looking around at my setup. “What’s all this for?” She gives me a broad smile.
“Well, I thought we could sleep under the stars again,” I say. “With no paparazzi this time.”
“Are you sure? ”
I shrug. “I’m never sure about that.”
“It comes with the job,” she says.
We haven’t seen much of the paps around here, not for a while. But you never know.
“So, you have me here, on the beach,” she says, the smile on her face morphing into something more coy. “What do you plan to do next?”
I grin, any nervous feelings I had dissipating.
“I don’t know,” I say, pulling her toward me, snaking an arm around her waist. “I figured we’d sleep on the beach, maybe look at the stars.”
“And?”
“And . . . that’s it.”
“Briggs,” she chides.
“Okay, fine. I did have something else in mind.”
I pull away from her, taking a step back and giving myself enough room for what I’m about to do.
“Are you ready?” I ask her.
“I am,” she nervously replies.
“Should we look at the stars first?”
“Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”
“Okay, fine,” I tell her, and then push my glasses up my nose. Time to be serious .
Slowly, I get down on one knee, still holding her hand. “Presley,” I start. “I think I fell for you that first day when I dumped iced coffee all over you.”
She lets out a laugh, tears brimming in her eyes.
“And I’m pretty sure I knew I was falling in love with you after you jumped into my arms in the ocean when you were scared by some seaweed.”
“It was a fish,” she interjects.
“Shhh,” I say, tugging on her hand. “I’m trying to propose here.”
“Oh right,” she says. “Carry on.”
“I love your determination, your unwavering drive, and your tenacity in the face of challenges. I love your humor and the sound of your laughter. I love how you care for others, how you make me feel valued and appreciated. I want to be worthy to be by your side, and promise to work every day to be so.”
She’s crying now, and I can’t help but feel choked up myself. I reach into my pocket and pull out the black velvet box that I’ve been holding on to for four-and-a-half months now.
“So, Presley Renee Shermerhorn,” I say, opening the box and holding it out toward her. “Will you marry me?”
She doesn’t look down at the ring, but keeps her eyes on me instead.
“Yes,” she says, a single tear falling down her face .
“Yes?” I ask, making sure I heard her right. I don’t even know why I ask; it just feels like the thing to do.
“Yes,” she says, laughter in her voice. “I want to marry you right now, Briggs Gatsby Dalton.”
“Do you want to see the ring?” I ask, still holding it in my hand.
“Oh,” she says, sniffling. “Yes, the ring. I almost forgot about that part.”
I stand up, holding it out toward her, and when she looks at it, her lips pull into a huge smile.
“It’s a sun,” she says, looking up at me, another tear falling down her cheek.
I nod. I knew it was perfect when I saw it in the store—a round center diamond surrounded by smaller ones, arranged like rays. A sunburst is what it’s called.
“Since we met in the summer, in Sunset Harbor, I figured it was kind of perfect.”
She nods. “It’s the most perfect ring ever.”
“It’s for all the happy summers we get to have together,” I say.
She reaches up on her toes and kisses me. “I can’t wait.”