36. Finn
FINN
A new presenter took center stage to a round of applause.
I recognized that slicked back, ice blond hair.
It had been in almost as many tabloids as me.
Theo Martin, a British actor who’d garnered some buzz for his off-screen method dressing, had recently been cast in The Dying Hour , a period picture that featured him as a brooding vampire detective.
I tilted my head, taking in his attire, having to admit that he was just charming enough to pull off the Regency era breeches.
“The Oscars are a celebration of extraordinary performances but also the craftsmanship that brings characters to life,” Theo said, his voice velvety as his intense gaze swept over the audience.
I perked up, my head whipping in Sierra’s direction. Holy shit. This was it. I watched as she clutched Ro’s hand, wishing it was mine and wondering if her heart was beating out of her chest.
“Costume design is often the quiet partner in a film’s success,” Theo continued, “but there’s an immeasurable impact to fabric choices, colors, patterns, even the very stitches that are made. From that first sketch to the final fitting, no film can truly shine without the magic of costumes.”
My hands grew sweaty, the blood in my veins trembling.
“So, without further ado,” Theo said, “here are the nominees for Best Costume Design.”
Sierra’s face appeared on the massive screen next to the stage as the nominees were announced. She smiled warmly, her cheeks pinking, and my chest ached with want at the sight. I squeezed the arms of my chair so tightly my knuckles blanched.
“And the Oscar goes to…” Theo said, opening the envelope. The pause lasted eons.
Read the name, dammit!
“Sierra Banks!” he announced as the thunderous roar of applause exploded in my ears. “For Every Day Is Sunday !”
My head spun, my thoughts ricocheting in a thousand different directions as I jumped to my feet, clapping so hard my palms hurt.
A wave of emotion spiraled through me as I watched Sierra hug Ro and the other people around her before making her way to the front and up onto the stage where she accepted her award from Theo.
He kissed her cheek. Bastard ! Then stepped back, leaving her to move up to the microphone with a teary-eyed smile. “First off, I want to thank my gorgeous and incredibly talented assistant costume designers. Carter, Trin, Paisley…without you, everyone would definitely be naked!”
A murmur of laughter shifted through the audience. Sierra shook her head, staring down at the award as she continued to thank the cast and crew and Hart of Gold Productions before getting the signal to start wrapping things up .
“And finally,” she concluded, “this award is for all the girls out there who need someone to remind them to believe in themselves. We are truly capable of anything. All we have to do is be brave—especially when it comes to the things we love. And in honor of that, I’d like to dedicate this award to my mother, who’s spent her whole life showing me that it’s okay to love and to love hard. ”
She stepped away from the mic and left the stage, likely off to do the usual post-win press interviews.
I waited impatiently for her to return, watching award after award get handed out, but she never came back, and I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what had happened.
Had she taken a different seat? Could her interviews really be taking this long?
A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I realized with a sudden burst of nerves that we had reached almost the end of the ceremony. Gianna Pectorini—legendary actress, Hollywood darling, and philanthropist—walked across the stage in an elegant blue gown.
Her short, graying hair was styled in soft waves, the lines by her lips wrinkled with her smile, but her eyes were sharp as she gave the audience a knowing look and stepped up to the microphone, thumbing the envelope in her hand.
There was only one award left to present, and it was the biggest one of all. Gianna was about to announce which movie had won Best Picture.
“Every film nominated tonight tells a story that moved us, challenged us, and reminded us why we first fell in love with cinema,” Gianna said, reading off the prompter.
“These ten brilliant films reflect the best of storytelling, from the intimately personal to the wildly imaginative. They have lit up screens and captured hearts around the world. Tonight, we celebrate that monumental achievement. Here are the nominees for Best Picture. ”
X’s hand tightened on my shoulder as the lights dimmed and a montage of clips played on the screen.
My breath caught in my throat as Every Day appeared among them.
This was the culmination of an entire year’s worth of blood, sweat, and tears.
This was the moment I was going to prove to the industry that Hart of Gold was capable of so much more than just mindless action flicks.
Blood rushed past my ears. This would be the moment I showed everyone what I could do.
X leaned close to my ear from the row behind. “Whatever happens,” he said. “Just know that we made a damn good movie.”
I nodded. Time was suspended, hovering in that strange, surreal space where the world quieted to nothing more than a murmur.
The montage finished. All eyes were on Gianna. “And the Oscar goes to…”
I held my breath. I could hear my heartbeat picking up in my ears—a faint lub-dub somewhere inside me.
Gianna fiddled with the envelope, laughing as it snagged on her fingernail. The rush of my heart intensified, my pulse spiking. Lub. Dub. Lub. Dub . The sound echoed louder…my blood rushed faster… Dub. Dub. Dub !
“… Every Day Is Sunday !”
I soared to my feet again, turning around and hugging X and my mother in a moment of total elation.
The applause crashed over me, deafening and unreal.
It felt like I was waking from a dream, from something I’d rehearsed a thousand times but had never gotten to live.
And now I wanted to savor every second—the congratulatory wishes being hurled at me, the blur of faces, the sheer euphoria of winning.
But beneath all that adrenaline, a single thought flickered: Find Sierra .
Before I could, I was being dragged in a flood of cast and crew up to the stage. In the chaos, I searched for Sierra, my eyes scanning the gathered crowd as people hugged and cheered and wiped tears from their eyes.
Someone placed the Oscar in my hand. I exhaled slowly, trying to center myself. There’s no way Sierra would have missed this moment. Even Ro was up here. I paused next to Jillian on my way to the mic. “Have you seen Sierra?” I whispered.
Jillian shook her head.
Mom took me by the arm then, leaning close enough to say, “When I popped out to the bathroom earlier, I saw her leave the building.”
A crushing weight wrapped around my heart.
I’d clawed my way to this win, bending my life around this movie for months.
And it had all paid off in exactly the way I’d wanted it to.
I should have felt triumphant. I should have felt whole.
But the only thing I could register through the disorienting waves of applause was Sierra’s absence.
She wasn’t backstage. She wasn’t in her seat. She was simply…gone. Winning this award was supposed to mean something. The prestige and the recognition from my peers and the boon to my reputation were all supposed to be enough to make me feel…good? Right? Complete?
X waved me toward the mic. I barely registered the weight of the award in my hands as I stood there, staring down at everything I’d wanted. Or…everything I thought I’d wanted. Because now the Oscar was more of a placeholder than a prize.
Standing up here without Sierra, winning felt as hollow as the smile I so often forced.
The one Sierra had called me out on. I opened my mouth to start talking, but instead of the list of thank-yous, all I could do was wonder if Sierra was sitting in front of a TV somewhere, watching.
No matter how—deservedly—angry she was at me, surely she’d be watching.
She cared about this movie, would want to know if it had won the big prize.
And if she was watching, maybe this was how I reached her. Maybe this was how I told her everything I longed to say. I looked out at the audience, my prepared speech washing away as I threw all my plans out the window.
Finn “The Face” Lockhart—the guy who was prepared for everything—I didn’t want to be him anymore. I wanted to be the guy who put his heart on the line and proved that nothing mattered more to him than the woman he loved.
Maybe that man deserved a second chance.
I cleared my throat. “This was supposed to be the moment that made everything worth it, you know? All of you out there tonight…you don’t know how badly I’ve wanted exactly this award, this chance to stand in front of all of you and receive the ultimate proof that my work is good and valuable and respected. ”
I stared down at the statuette in my hand.
“This was supposed to make me happy,” I said softly.
“But it doesn’t. Am I grateful for the award?
Yes, absolutely. I believe in this movie, and I’m beyond thrilled at the reception it has gotten.
But there’s only one thing that could truly make me happy, and that’s another chance with the love of my life. ”
A gasp ran through the crowd. This was not the speech they’d expected. But now that I’d started, I wasn’t about to stop.
“From the moment we met, Sierra Banks has challenged me, exasperated me, rattled me. I thought I was so untouchable, but she always knew exactly how to get past my walls. It drove me crazy from the moment I met her, but at the same time, it made me feel so damn alive. Like I was finally living instead of just putting on a show. Which is ironic, given that we were literally putting on a show for all of you.”
A murmur echoed through the audience.
“Yeah,” I confessed, “the engagement you all read about in the gossip columns was fake, based on a photo taken totally out of context. We played along with it because we wanted the publicity for our picture.”
The murmuring grew louder. Much louder.
“But what we never expected,” my voice cracked a little, despite all my efforts to keep it steady, “was that we’d really fall in love. And I definitely never expected to screw it all up. To throw away the best thing that ever happened to me, all because I was too blind to see what really mattered.”
My hand tightened around the Oscar as if I might strangle it.
“I’ve spent my whole life perfecting my mask.
I’m an expert at looking like I don’t care.
But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to hide my feelings.
I’m not ashamed anymore to put my real self out there and tell the whole world who I am.
I’m a screwup. I’m a mess. I’m so head-over-heels in love that I’m ridiculous with it, and if that makes you all want to laugh at me, go right ahead. I couldn’t care less.”
I stared into the barrel of the nearest camera. “Because I love you, Sierra. Nothing matters more to me than you—not this award, not my career, not even my own dignity. I love you more than all of that.”
The “get off the stage now” music started playing as I thrust the Oscar into the air.
“So here’s to love!” The audience cheered.
“And to being brave enough to chase after it. If you’re out there, Sierra.
If you’re watching this now and if there’s any part of you that might be willing to give me another chance, meet me at home.
Please. There’s something I need to show you. ”
I stumbled back from the mic and shoved the Oscar into Mom’s hands. I half heard her say something about how proud she was of me, but I wasn’t listening as I took off running through the theater, hoping and praying Sierra would show up.