The Ending is the Best Part

Chapter Twenty-Two

One Day Left

All of Tuesday, Xander didn’t come into the office.

Meagan kept walking by our desks, glancing suspiciously at me sitting there alone.

Yesterday and today, Thursday, were the same.

I’m not really sure what I can do.

We’re supposed to hand something in tomorrow morning.

With Meagan’s ultimatum hanging over my head like this cloud of doom, I am stressed to the max.

I’ve bombarded Xander with very professional emails, but he hasn’t responded.

Maybe he’s just given up on me.

I am in my flat trying to tune out the relentless ticking of the clock hanging on the wall.

Every tick that reverberates is a reminder of how quickly time is slipping away.

I pull a blanket tightly around my shoulders and sink into the couch as I glare at my computer screen.

I’m looking at everything we did up until the moment we fell out in the café.

I’ve read the half-finished episode a hundred times and what’s so frustrating is Meagan was right.

Our writing styles had worked perfectly together.

It had everything: drama, emotional stakes; it promised to give the fans what they wanted but would still surprise them and leave them hungry for the next season.

I can’t help the feeling that this could have been – would have been – one of the best episodes of television of all time, certainly one of the best in our show’s history.

But it’s over now.

It will probably remain unfinished business – just like me and Xander.

I’ve accepted the worst.

Meagan is probably in her office right now drafting an email to the other writers she had in mind.

I sink my head onto one end of my couch and let out a sigh.

I say an internal goodbye to the thought of my name appearing at the start of the episode, to my parents saying congratulations, to all the opportunities that this could have opened up for me afterwards.

To think I actually believed we could work together.

My God, I’m such a fool.

But that’s until…

A ping comes through my laptop.

I brace myself for a message from Meagan telling us that while she appreciated our efforts, as she has no confidence that we’re actually working together and time is running out before we have to start production, she has made the executive decision to…

I will myself to look at the screen, but what I see instead has me sitting up so fast I almost get whiplash. I have to rub my eyes to make sure it’s real.

For a second, I just stare at the name, scared that if I blink it’s going to change into something else. I blink. Nope. It’s still there.

From: Xander Woods

I pause, my thoughts going a million miles an hour.

My first instinct is to rush and open it, but my fingers hover over the mouse pad.

C’mon Yara, I tell myself.

I do want to know what’s in that email, I really do.

But I’m also scared.

What if Xander says that we can’t work together? He could be handing in his resignation tomorrow for all I know.

Maybe he thinks it will be too awkward after my failed romantic gesture yesterday.

I feel a pang of dread as I realise just how much I would miss him, not getting to see him every day.

I force my fingers to move. I click onto the email.

The email is short, of course it is. Xander has always believed in that old bit of writing advice.

‘Show, don’t tell.’

Finale. It will only be better with you.

It’s small and ridiculous, but the smiley face warms my heart.

It’s so unlike Xander, or so unlike the Xander I knew a few weeks ago: serious, self-conscious, avoidant.

A silly, sweet smiley face makes me realise how much my understanding of him has changed, how much our relationship has changed.

I bite the bullet and open the file, trying to ignore the pounding in my heart.

And then I begin to read…

I scan through most of the episode, already familiar with it as it’s what we had come up with… together. Xander hasn’t changed anything that we agreed upon up until our fall-out in the café.

Then there are the scenes we shot back and forth over email. He’s done a great job linking them, although they’re not as good as what we wrote with each other.

My gaze halts at the start of the last scene. This is it.

Our two main characters, Layla and Atticus, are standing on opposite sides of the room.

The meeting must take place in secret in the dead of night.

As far as Layla knows, Atticus has betrayed her by having Elaria, her closest advisor and best friend, killed.

She’s heartbroken in more ways than one.

She’s grieving not just the loss of her friend, but the possibility of ever rekindling her relationship with her childhood sweetheart.

But in reality he has only damaged his own cause, because Elaria was a double agent working for him.

He has scuppered his own chances in the war to save Layla, his love’s, life.

The tension, anger and regret in the scene are palpable. The air is thick with words unspoken between the two of them.

The last thing Xander and I discussed about the finale was that Layla would never discover the noble intentions for Atticus’

betrayal. A climactic, tragic end to the season that put their future romance, which the fans so loved the idea of, in jeopardy.

The conversation starts off slow, their words clipped.

I’m struck again by just how good a writer Xander is, and how great a writer he has become in the past few weeks.

Even without actors and costumes and elaborate sets, I can feel the emotional power of the scene.

I carry on reading.

Something in the conversation breaks.

They start to open up to each other, to exchange barbed words.

Gone are their aristocratic niceties and subservience to convention – these are two people in beautiful, complicated love, with jaded pasts, who’ve hurt each other in so many ways.

Tears gather in my eyes and the words begin to blur.

This scene feels different from the rest. I realise I know these characters, intimately, deeply. This isn’t just Layla and Atticus… it’s us.

It’s all there. Everything that has led up to this moment, every sharp exchange, every hesitation, every moment of vulnerability between them… between us.

The ache in my chest deepens as I continue to read the last few lines of this scene.

33. CASTLE SET INT. PRIVY COUNCIL CHAMBERS DAY 30. 20:35

Atticus:

I have to confess something. Elaria. I know you’re hurting. But she was not your friend. She wanted to have you killed. She had to be eliminated.

Layla places a hand to her chest, forced backwards with the weight of this reveal. She recovers herself, stands taller, trying to force some authority into her voice.

So, Xander changed it. He thought Layla should know what Atticus did for her. Interesting. My eyes scan the page furiously, desperate to discover the rest of the story.

Layla:

But why? If she was an ally to your cause, why would you do that? Why would you get rid of her?

Atticus laughs, a dark, hollow laugh. There are tears in his eyes. He spins on his heel.

Atticus:

After all this time, you really think I don’t care about you?

Layla:

You’re the one who walked away! You pushed me away, you did this!

Atticus:

Because I was scared!

I am so invested. I can practically hear Xander saying those words. Hear the raw and frustrated emotions as they pour out of him.

What happens next makes my heart flutter. After a few beats of silence, the two protagonists reach for each other…

And they kiss.

Their first kiss since their youthful romance, when they were running around the palace gardens.

I can see it perfectly.

A kiss of reunion. A lost love finally brought together again.

I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my gasp.

I’m not surprised by this in the context of the story.

This is what I had wanted for them from the start.

No. I just can’t quite believe that it was Xander who wrote it. A scene filled not with swords and politics, but emotion. Passion. Romance.

I finish reading and think, Wow, the ending is the best part.

It’s like Xander has woven every single unspoken feeling between us into this scene, a confession that whatever we had was real and shared.

I scroll down to the end of the document.

And there, in the margins, Xander has left a comment.

‘Sorry for changing it slightly from what you described. I thought that Layla should know how Atticus feels.’

Xander’s final scene fills me with so much hope. Maybe we can actually get this done by tomorrow morning. And perhaps we can even make something work between us.

I can’t waste another second and so I jump up from the sofa and run to my wardrobe, almost falling face-first tripping on days’

worth of discarded clothes.

I yank open the wardrobe and quickly grab the first outfit I can find.

I throw on a baby-pink jumper with a pair of blue jeans.

Looking in the mirror, I give myself a nod of approval, proud of what I’ve managed to put together under such stress.

I can hear my own heartbeat as I make my way to the door.

I will my hand to stop trembling as I reach for the handle.

I will go to him and we’ll finish this episode together.

I have doubts, of course.

Will he really be ready for me? Will he be ready to open himself to love; not only that, to potential hurt too? But the moment I open the door, all my feelings of uncertainty vanish.

Because there he is, standing on my front doorstep, the man who has been occupying my thoughts for so long, in all his six-foot-three glory.

He looks gorgeous, one hand leant against the doorway.

He’s out of breath, as if he ran here.

He wears a pair of worn dark blue jeans and a Strokes T-shirt.

But when I take a closer look at his face, I see the haunted look in his eyes.

His hair falls over his brow, but it can’t hide his concerned expression.

He straightens slightly and, when his gaze finally meets mine, I’m hit with an invisible force of feeling that’s so strong I have to take a step back. I almost laugh. I’m just like Layla.

‘Oh my God, Xander? What are you doing here? Have you been waiting out here in the cold?’

I shout at him.

He laughs, the sound like music to my ears. God, I missed that sound… I missed him. The smile fades as he looks at me more intently. I have the prickling sense that whatever he’s about to say might change everything.

‘And I would’ve waited for you, however long it took,’

he says, with a gallant look. Despite myself, I feel a flutter in my chest at his Prince Charming declaration. Then, he snorts.

‘No, don’t worry. I’m not a stalker. I just got here.’

I nervously chuckle, wiping my hands down the front of my jeans as they start to sweat profusely. Remembering he’s standing out in the cold, I move back, motioning for him to come inside.

‘Did you get my email?’

‘I did, yeah.’

‘And did you see the ending.’

‘Yes.’

‘The whole thing?’

‘Of course.’

He nods, looks down, suddenly shy.

‘Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to hear what you thought. About everything.’

Xander walks past me and heads into the room, his eyes drinking up the details of the space eagerly.

He takes in my patchwork blanket, my toppling bookshelf that I’ve been promising to organise since I moved in, my Hereke rug that my anneanne gave to me when I visited her in Turkey last summer, the prints that Maddie and Amira bought me for my birthday.

It hits me properly then that Xander is here.

In my home.

In my personal space. It takes everything in me not freak out. I’m struck by just how much he looks like he belongs here. He fits in. He looks comfortable, more comfortable even than he does at work.

He turns to look at me and takes a small step closer.

‘I’ve been thinking about this,’

he murmurs. He crosses the room so that there is just a metre between us. Then, his voice barely above a whisper.

‘About you.’

‘I’ve thought about us too.’

I move towards him, now only a breath away from him. My hands are hesitant as I lay them on his chest. Time ticks by and we stay like that for a while, suspended in the moment. He breathes deeply, I feel him collect himself and gather his words.

‘I-I’m sorry, Yara. To be honest I didn’t know how to handle this feeling of… it’s something I’ve never quite experienced before.’

He places his hands atop mine, holding them still on his chest.

‘And instead of dealing with it, I lashed out. Yes, when you thought the worst of me, it hurt. But if I’m being honest with myself, what have I ever done that would mean you could trust me? I know I can come across arrogant and competitive and ambitious – no wonder you could believe that I would steal your idea. And really, I… I was just using it as an excuse to push you away. But I…’

He breathes in deeply.

‘I don’t want to keep pretending, Yara. I’m tired of pretending I don’t have feelings for you.’

He’s breathing heavily, as if the words cause him pain. Then, he sighs and smiles breathlessly, stands taller, relieved. He looks at me with eyes full of need.

‘Xander, I feel the same way and I think that deep down I always have,’

I say, my voice thick with emotion.

His face lights up and his face stretches into a broad, delighted smile.

He puts his arms round my shoulders and pulls me into him.

My face against his chest, I feel the warmth emanating from him.

My heart swells so much that I can barely breathe with the pressure of it.

In the last few weeks, I was so scared that this moment would never come.

But now that it’s here, I want to hold on to it tightly and never let it go.

Before I have a chance to say anything else Xander releases his hold on me slightly.

He leans in and presses his lips gently on mine.

Unlike the one in the storage cupboard, this kiss is soft at first, tentative, both of us exploring this new way of being together.

Instead of urgent and desperate, this feels like we’re establishing roots, laying the foundations for everything that’s to come for us.

But then it’s like a switch flips and the kiss becomes so much… more.

I need it as much as I need my next breath.

Our bodies fit together so perfectly, it’s like we’re born for one another.

The kind of all-consuming, made-for-eachother romance that Xander said doesn’t exist.

But it must, because look at the two of us now.

We’re both breathing heavily by the time we finally pull apart, but we don’t let go of each other.

Our foreheads touch, his hands cup my face, my hands are on his shoulders as we just drink each other in.

‘You’re incredible,’

Xander rumbles. In the gruffness of his voice, his desire is evident. Which does something to me. But now is not the time… maybe once we get all the gooey emotional stuff out.

‘I don’t really know what to say. I’m just so, so happy.’

‘You don’t have to say anything,’

Xander replies. My brain turns to mulch as his thumb gently caresses my cheek.

‘I know exactly how you feel.’

As soon as the words fall out of his mouth, contentment settles over me and a smile tugs at my lips. In the end, everything we have been through, all the ups and downs, has been so worth it because they led us here.

‘Not to jump straight back into work stuff,’

I say and Xander grins down at me.

‘but… seeing as you’re here, maybe we should get the episode finished?’

‘Together?’

Xander asks.

‘Always,’

I reply.

‘Because I love what you’ve done. But I do have notes.’

He chuckles.

‘I wouldn’t want it any other way.’

We work well into the night.

We’re on a roll, our ideas bouncing off each other so naturally.

We improve and collaborate on the scenes we wrote separately.

I suggest a line and Xander immediately finds the perfect retort.

I work on the scene setting and the pacing, Xander questions whether a particular character would really do that.

We knit the whole thing together, so it flows beautifully, one scene passing elegantly on to the next.

We do a final read-through to make sure it works.

We perform the dialogue for one another – I laugh at Xander’s terrible Irish accent and he’s impressed by the gravitas I give Atticus.

I don’t even notice how late it has got by the time we’re done.

We sit back, exhausted.

It must have been pure adrenaline that pushed us through the night.

The episode is brilliant.

It’s everything I had hoped for and more.

Everything that I—no, we had dreamed of.

Yes, at the end of the day it’s another episode of television.

In our careers so far, we have contributed countless scenes and storylines to this show.

But this episode is also a secret love letter to each other, and it will be signed with both our names.

We send the episode to Meagan and fall into bed.

Our first night in this new stage of our relationship and we’re too tired to do anything but sleep.

But Xander holds me all through the night and, just before I drift off, I feel him place a gentle kiss on my forehead.

The next day Xander and I walk into the office hand in hand without a care in the world.

As we progress through the corridors, we hear the whispered comments from our colleagues.

Some are surprised… but most aren’t.

We head straight to Meagan’s office, and she looks up from her computer the minute we arrive.

Her eyes zone in to our joined hands and a grin spreads across her face.

‘If it isn’t my two favourite writers. Oh, did I say that? Promise that you won’t tell the others.’

She quirks her head towards us and raises an eyebrow.

‘Looks like you finally got your shit together… excuse my language.’

Xander and I look at each other.

‘We did,’

I say with confidence.

She stands from her desk.

‘I knew I made the right choice pairing you two up.’

She has printed the script and it sits pride of place in the middle of her desk. She glances down at it with a satisfied nod. She picks the papers up and brandishes them in her hand.

‘This is an excellent piece of work. It’s romantic and tragic and full of drama and pathos. It completes the characters’

arcs while leaving us begging for another season. Genuinely, what a fantastic bit of writing, the fans and critics are going to devour it!’

She beams with pride. But then, she casts her eyes downward and her smile falters.

‘I’ve been thinking about the question of lead credit… and whose name comes top.’

This is it.

She’s about to choose between me and Xander.

Who did a better job.

However, I realise that I honestly don’t really care.

Whatever she decides, we wrote something amazing and it’ll open doors for us both, no matter whose name is on top.

Xander squeezes my hand in reassurance and the gesture sends a zap of warmth into my heart.

I know he feels exactly the same way.

‘But reading this, I can’t tell where one of your voices begins and the other ends – and so, I can’t tell who did a better job. I confess, I only suggested it to try and get the best out of both of you. But if I’m very honest, it wasn’t fair for me to put you both on this task and to make a judgement on who did more when you’re both so incredibly talented. So, how about this…’

She pauses.

‘Instead of one of you getting top billing, how would you both feel if we just put it on one line? I know it’s not our series style and the title designers will throw a fit about the deviation, but I think it’s the fairest thing. If you’d be happy with that, of course!’

I can’t contain my excitement. This is perfect. Yara Aslan and Xander Woods – our names will look so good next to each other, and hopefully will for years to come.

‘We would absolutely love that.’

Xander voices our shared agreement.

‘Thought that might be the case.’

Meagan claps her hands and ushers us out the door.

‘Now get out of here, you two lovebirds!’

she squeals with glee.

I give her a knowing look, thinking back to our conversation, and Meagan’s grin grows wider.

As soon as we leave her office, swarms of our colleagues swamp us, eager to find out the outcome.

Did Meagan accept the episode? Who got top billing? Are you getting promoted? Or fired? Xander and I just share a look and head back to our desks, ready for the next challenge.

Because in the end it doesn’t really matter.

We have each other.

And that is enough.