XXXI CJ
XXXI
CJ
No Governor’s Ball, no Vanity Fair Party. For us, the after-party is Brent Chase’s house.
“Thank God this man has so many fictional cold cases to solve,” I say, pulling on my favorite old, worn uni shirt of Jack’s and joining him on the couch. His arms are stretched across the back of it, and his bow tie is on the coffee table.
“I love seeing you in that.” He pulls my feet onto his lap and begins to massage them. “Almost as good as the fancy dress. And both in one night...” He brings my ankle to his lips to kiss it. “I can’t believe you had me in your mouth ten minutes before my first Oscars presenting gig.”
“I can’t believe we just ditched the Oscars,” I say, and I realize I haven’t had more than a moment to start to process the lows and highs of the evening.
“I would ditch a lot more than that if you wanted me to.”
I shake my head. “That’s not—” I stop myself and sit up straighter, determined to articulate my feelings clearly and with intention, both for him and for myself. “Look, I know I can be... rigid. And I use Agnes as an excuse to make rules for myself—rules that I really did think my life required. Obviously, Agnes does need structure, and I can’t just fly us to London or wherever the next enticing job is shooting. But I can do things that take me out of my comfort zone. Take on projects outside of LA, try directing because I think I could like it and be good at it. Agnes has summers and breaks. And I have Stuart, as he has been quick to remind me.”
I trace Jack’s jaw with my thumb while I talk, and he reaches up to still my hand and moves it to his lips. “I don’t want to make your life harder, CJ. I just want to be with you.”
“I know that. I want that. I want you .” The relief of telling him this unlocks something in me, an ease I’d been avoiding. I continue, without considering what I say before I say it, a behavior so rare for me that it feels terrifying, but right. “I think I got so used to things being hard that I started to take comfort in it, and letting in anyone who made things different—and potentially easier—felt wrong somehow. Getting accustomed to you helping me with little stuff, like planning the birthday party or picking up breakfast—it just seemed like such a short leap from that to you helping me with something big, like the Cecily movie. It scared me. It made me worry that I might not be capable of doing any of it again on my own. Breakfast or booking jobs.”
I don’t realize I’m crying until I feel Jack wipe a tear from my cheek. “You are the most capable person I know,” he says. “I would trust you with the nuclear codes. British and American.” He pulls my head to his shoulder. “I want to learn how to be here for you in ways that aren’t scary.”
“I know,” I say, nodding against him. “I always depended on my mom, and then when she was gone... I think it felt like a betrayal of her memory to count on anyone but myself. Which—I know how it sounds when I say that out loud. I thought all of my rules were protecting me, but when you left, I saw they were actually isolating me, and Agnes too.”
My gaze finds the clock for the first time since we got here, and I realize that Agnes will be up in a few hours. “I need to leave soon,” I say, slouching into the couch and resting my head on his chest.
He nods. “I’d like to see her soon if you’re OK with that.” Jack smooths my hair.
“I’d like that. Agnes would really like that. But also, Jack, I want to make a plan,” I start and catch myself. It’s not just about me. It’s about us. “Or—can we make a plan? Because working together again was a good idea. Even if I didn’t think you went about it the right way.”
He laughs, and I feel it in his chest. “Brilliant idea, miserable execution on my part.”
“The thing is, we would have to be equals. Partners. Not a movie star and his girlfriend.”
He nods. “Like Christopher Nolan and Emma Thomas.”
“Where you’re Emma and I’m Christopher.” I smile up at him.
“Obviously. And of course you’ll be a bigger success than that bloke. What’s he done anyway?”
My laughs evolve into a yawn, and Jack pulls my head into his lap as my body melts into the couch. “I’m getting too comfortable.”
“No such thing. Set an alarm, and I’ll take you home whenever you need.”
“I, too, can order an Uber.”
“No, in my car .”
I attempt, unsuccessfully, to search his face while looking at it upside down.
“It’s quite sensible. Family-friendly. In case there’s ever a reason for a small child to ride in the back seat. Brent Chase said I can keep it here until I sign the lease on my new place in Highland Park next month.”
Warmth spreads through my chest. “You’ll drive me,” I say dreamily as my eyelids drop.
“I think you’ll rather like seeing me behind the wheel.”