Chapter Twenty
When Sawyer hurried down the hall, ignoring her, Justine slammed the door behind him. “Damn him, he never listens to me.”
Thea and Veronica watched her as she continued to rant. “The other job was ten minutes a week! This is an hour a day. No one wants to see that much of me. Shit.”
“Language, darling.” Thea spoke up like a robot, a habit.
She wound down and looked at her mother, emotions still raw, a violent storm just under the surface. “He never listens.”
“He listens to you.” Veronica, the least fake person she knew, spoke up. If Veronica said it, she should at least consider it.
Still not ready to hear it, at any rate, Justine glared at her. “You’re going to take his side now?”
“I’m not trying to take sides. That’s the truth. He does listen to you. He didn’t want Liann. You wanted Liann. He just followed you there. Twice.”
She slammed herself into the dressing chair and covered her face with a moan. “I wanted Liann. This is all my fault. I convinced Leo to do this show. I promised him I was invested in making this show happen. And here I am…the one person who can make it happen.”
Her head slumped back with resignation. “I have to do the show. I hate that he’s right.”
Thea smiled at her. “Thank God. I thought I was going to have to threaten you with another Mysterious Fortune Conversion Ceremony. Imagine the bonfire we could make with all this hair.” She lifted Justine’s long mane from her neck and held it up, so she could see it in the mirror.
Justine arched an eyebrow at her mother. “You’re mocking me.”
“I am, but I’m mocking myself, too. Besides, the last one worked.”
“What’d you wish for?” Justine gave her a skeptical look.
“A successful career. And here I am.”
“Here you are. Mine didn’t work.”
“Well, the argument could be made that you didn’t go into it with an ounce of faith. What’d you wish for?”
Veronica looked at them like they’d started speaking Greek for no good reason. “What the hell is a secret conversion ceremony? It sounds like code for a sex change on the sly.”
Justine gave Veronica a warning look and jerked her head toward Thea. “Do not mock the Mysterious…thingy.”
Thea put her hands on Justine’s shoulders. “So? What’d you wish for?”
“To be happy.”
“Right. Well, Travis is gone forever, you found out who’s to blame for that vile film, you’re embarking on a glamorous new career, and you fell in love. Oh, and he proposed. I can see how that would be devastating for you.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be making me over, here?”
With a gloating, and beautiful as ever, smile, Thea sat down on the couch with the phone and started making calls.
Turning back to Veronica, she said, “I fell in love. He proposed. She’s glossing over the fact that I told him no about fifteen times.”
“Yeah, why was that?”
“He caught me so beyond off guard. Liann, and the video thing, and worrying about my mother finding out, and he seriously beat Travis down. Just like he wanted to do with that photographer. And then he was all, ‘Marry me, damn you,’ and ‘Reality is unimportant.’ That’s not going to work.”
“Not his smoothest move.” Veronica hopped up on the pink marble counter.
“It’s not him. I screw everything up. I don’t want him looking at me like I’m something he has to fix. What happens when I fall on my face? Because, let’s face it, I am a mess of mythical proportions. People will tell their grandchildren about the meltdown they saw this morning, and he’s still trying to save it.”
“I think you’re underestimating yourself.”
“No, I’ll screw it up.”
Veronica waved that away. “Oh, well, yeah.”
“Are you helping?” She crossed her arms. “Because I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“It’s part of who you are, Justine. Not screwing up, but…doing things different than anyone else ever would. When I said you’re underestimating yourself, I meant what you bring to the table.
“He never screws up, trust me. Until he met you. And now he apologizes. He takes chances. He proposes out of nowhere.” Veronica met her gaze. “I don’t think the unpredictability of you would ever be something he’d want to ‘fix.’”
“I don’t know. This isn’t all fun, all the time.”
“Tell me about it.”
She laughed. “Do you know what a twisted person I am to think you’re an awesome friend?”
As ten people rolling kits and cases walked into the dressing room, her friend stood up. “Look, if you ever catch me being a complete dumb ass, you can totally call me on it.”
“Count on it.”
Then the locusts descended; her mother’s stylist and a make-up artist, each with assistants. Thea left for Justine’s apartment to scout a wardrobe out of her own closet, because she was never getting into Liann’s clothes, no matter what was at stake.
They examined Justine, flipped her hair in different ways, pulling it long and letting it fall. They studied her, like a plumber studies a leaky pipe, and then went to work. Every minute that passed, every curl that floated to the pink carpet, every tweezer sting and brush stroke, made her temperature rise until her ears buzzed and her face flamed.
When they turned her to the mirror, she could only stare in surprise. Her long curls had disappeared into a dustpan, and her hair swung free above her shoulders, framing a face that didn’t even look like her own. “Holy shit, I’m hot.”
Thea joined her at the mirror with a grin. “Damn right.”
Leo whistled from the door, and she smiled at his reflection. “Hey.”
He sat down beside of her, and she twisted the chair to face him. Taking her hand, he gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re going to do fine, I promise.”
“Sure.” They stared at each other, her eyes wide, because she wanted to tell him she was scared to death, but she didn’t know how.
“It’ll be a cakewalk,” he said, with a wink
Justine nodded then took a quick glance over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “Is Sawyer back yet?”
Leo shook his head. “Sorry.”
Justine picked out new clothes, because that she could do on her own. She sat on the pink velvet chaise with her elbows on her knees, face propped in her hands, waiting for Sawyer to come back. He had to come back, didn’t he? He couldn’t expect her to do this alone when it was his idea.
Of course, she’d told him she had no intention of doing the show. Maybe he was at that stupid bar he went to. With that stupid girl. Maybe he was, right this second, celebrating her no.
Veronica popped her head in the door. “We’re starting in five minutes.”
“Without Sawyer?” She jumped up from the chaise in alarm.
“No, he just got here. Ready?”
“He just got here. Because he knew I’d do this. He drives me crazy, Veronica.”
“I know, honey. Come on.”
Justine followed Veronica down the same corridor she’d walked earlier to see Liann. That seemed like years ago.
A brand new audience filled the studio. She had to tell herself they were new, anyway. She wasn’t looking too close because if they were the audience she’d made the confession to, she’d never pull this off.
Justine took a shaky breath and sat down beside Leo while a sound engineer hooked her up. She focused on her breathing, trying to keep it slow and even. Why wasn’t Sawyer here, with her, telling her everything would be fine?
Then Sawyer walked up. Everything was happening around her, separate from her. He patted Leo on the shoulder and said, “Let’s try this again,” and they laughed.
His gaze fell on her. “Looks good. Should film well.”
That was it? It should film well? She sucked in a breath when he turned away and dismissed her to fiddle with that stupid board.
Leo took her hand, gave a signal to Sawyer to cut the mics, and said, “Justine, look at me.”
She turned her face to him, panic taking giant bites of her resolve.
“There’s nobody else here. It’s just you and me and this weird room with a stage, a portable kitchen, and a fake city painted behind us. Okay?”
Justine nodded.
“Now. Did I ever tell you about the time one of my fans snuck into my grandfather’s nursing home to ask me out?”
She shook her head, and he launched into the story until he had her laughing. Then the lights were down, the music came on, and Leo was talking to her. She didn’t have time to think about Sawyer, or the fact that he might not ask her again, might not tell her loved her ever again.
The lights shone on them, which made her sweat just a little, but someone always blotted her face when they took breaks. And with the blinding lights, it seemed like it was just the two of them, or, at least, she could tell herself that.
They wrapped up, the audience filed out the back, and she tugged the microphone off her collar.
Leo gave her a wink. “See? Cakewalk.”
“Because of you. I was so smart to sign you.” She gave his hand a squeeze and took off across the stage to find Sawyer. Instead, she found Veronica and her inch-thick clipboard.
“He’s gone, isn’t he?” Justine looked around the room once more, standing on her tiptoes.
“He said he had things to take care of.” Veronica met her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She took a step backwards. “I’ve got things to do. Too.”
But all she could find to do was paint the flaming, flamingo pink walls in what was her new dressing room. Every stroke of the roller, blotting out the pink with pristine white, calmed her.
Justine sensed her father in the doorway for several minutes before she turned to look at him. When he didn’t say anything at her questioning glance, she dismissed him and went back to her roller.
Daniel came to stand beside her and examined her work. “Where did you get the paint?”
“It’s a soundstage, Dad. They keep it around.”
“Whoever chose the color for this room should be—”
“What? Sent back to the middle of nowhere for a couple months of rehab? Too late.”
Morose, she dabbed her roller into the tray and started on another section.
Daniel took a deep breath and forged on. “I can’t possibly say how sorry I am for the way I treated you, Justine.”
“True. I’m sure you won’t even bother to try.”
“That the son of my partner, who I worked beside every day, made every attempt to ruin my only child’s life isn’t the first conclusion anyone would jump to.”
“Of course not. Much easier to assume I’m a complete screw up.”
“It was easier, Justine. When it comes to messy things, like relationships, I tend to take the easy way.”
She stopped painting to glare at him. “Oh, well, gee Daddy, if you see the error of your ways, then we’ll just pretend nothing ever happened. Why am I even talking to you about this? You couldn’t be bothered to discuss it with me before. You just scolded me for making such bad choices. Which, in retrospect, is rather ironic.”
Justine went back to painting the wall and ignoring him.
“Justine.” He touched her arm. “Justine, look at me. All I can do is apologize to you. I want to start over, can’t we do that?”
Without thinking, she turned to him and rolled a large stripe of white paint down his suit.
Daniel’s mouth dropped open in shock. “This suit was handmade. In Italy.”
“See that? That’s my life. It’s messy, and it never seems to fit together the way you think it should.”
“This is your life?”
She gave a terse nod.
He grabbed the roller and swiped it across her stomach.
Justine gasped. “This dress is a Versace.”
“That’s the mess I’ve made with…hell, everything. I can’t fix it, and we can’t pretend it’s not there.”
Justine looked down at her ruined dress and then at her father’s suit, the gesture, the symbol, the idea that he wasn’t so different from her caused the good dose of resentment she’d been wallowing in for a long time to fall away. “I could get used to it.”
Daniel tilted his head, pointing at the stripe up his suit. “I think this is exactly what I needed.”
Justine bit down on her lip, bit back the urge to just cry. She’d felt that a lot today, and it wouldn’t get her anywhere.
Daniel sighed, and his voice sounded raw. “Give me a hug, baby. It’s been a long time.”
She wrapped her arms around him and rested her face against his chest. The cologne he’d worn for as long as she remembered filled her with comfort, with the silly idea that everything might just be okay. When they parted, both their eyes misty, she handed him a brush and told him to start painting.
Daniel swiped at the wall for several minutes before he spoke again. “I’m going to ask your mother to give us another chance.”
“I don’t want to know about it, Daddy.” She pointed the roller at him. “But don’t hurt her again.”
“Not a chance.” Daniel stepped back to look at his section of the wall, painted in perfect, long strokes. “Sawyer said he asked you to marry him.”
“Once or twice.”
“I know you love him, baby. You light up when he’s around. If I hadn’t been so damned stubborn, I’d have seen it sooner.”
“Resolute,” she whispered with a bitter smile. Justine dropped her roller into the tray and sat down yoga-style on the floor. “I don’t understand him, Daddy. I don’t know how he expects to live my life. It won’t go away, and he values his privacy so much.”
Bit by bit, her dad’s brushstrokes began to obliterate the obscene pink. Out of nowhere, he said, “Sawyer never mentioned his family. All the years I worked with him, he’s never said anything about his family.”
“He doesn’t have a family.”
Daniel didn’t look at her, just kept covering the pink, erasing it. “Maybe that’s why.”
“So, you’re saying he wants to marry me because he wants a family?”
“No. I’m saying that maybe he wants you to be his family.” Daniel dropped the brush into the tray with hers and wiped his hands on his suit with a shrug. “You’ve always had us, Justine. I know we’ve made a lot of mistakes, but you always had family. Maybe he didn’t know what he was missing until he met you. And he’s got a lot of catching up to do.”
“I love him.” The realization of it all smacked her with full force. “I love him. And people have done crazier things than get married to someone they met after a couple of months. We’re us. We defy normal. We laugh at tradition and common sense.” She jumped up. “I have to find him.”
“He went home, after the taping.” He hesitated. “He handed in his resignation.”
“He lives out in the middle of nowhere, and I can’t drive. I have to see him. I have to tell him I get it.”
Daniel took off his jacket. “I can take you, baby. Shouldn’t you change first? The dress?”
“No way, I need the dress. It’s a metaphor.”
“Of course it is.” He gestured at the door, like she made perfect sense, and she appreciated the effort.
Justine begged the universe to, just this once, not kick her in the backside, to let him be home, to let her find him.
****
If Sawyer hadn’t gone out to walk his dog, he’d have missed the show when Justine appeared at his door. He’d hoped she’d come, had counted on it. When she didn’t, he decided to take the dog for a walk and contemplate what he was going to do with himself for the next fifty years. Working with her, every day, was not an option. Not if he couldn’t touch her, laugh with her, and wake up with her for the rest of his life.
He didn’t urge Jack to hurry, like he normally did when he got stuck walking him. He just stood there, underneath some tree he had no clue how to identify, and stared into the distance. Then her father’s car had pulled into his driveway.
Justine jumped out, waving the car on. It turned in his drive and left her there. She pounded on his door and, when he didn’t answer, cursed and slumped down against the door.
“Let’s go, Jack.” He tugged at the leash, and Jack followed, probably grateful for more time than he’d ever had to do his business.
Sawyer stopped at the steps. She’d covered her face with her hands and muttered, “Crap. Crappity crap, crap. Crap.”
“You looking for something, princess?”
She dropped her hands and gazed at him, relief obvious in every muscle. “Sawyer.”
He climbed the steps and opened the door, stepping aside to let her in first.
With a glance at the stage dressing he called home she said, “You live in the suburbs. The suburbs. Your bad boy image is wilting like the flowers on your trellis.”
“That what you came all the way out here to tell me?”
“No, I just didn’t plan this far ahead.”
“You’re good at this.” He gazed at her, trying to read her face. She was nervous, he could tell by the subtle way her chest jerked when she breathed, the way her eyes danced from point to point. But why was she here?
She gave him a shy smile and he said, “Do you know you’ve got paint all over you?”
“It’s a metaphor.” Her voice was thick, and he couldn’t think of a way to respond.
“Huh.” He unhooked Jack’s leash, and Jack leapt up, front paws on her thighs, and she leaned down to nuzzle his ears and speak to him in soft tones.
Sawyer glared at the dog. Traitor.
“Get lost, Jack.” The dog whimpered once and took off into the living room.
“This is a nice house. So not you, but nice.”
“I know. I know it’s not me. It’s not anybody.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Listen, Sawyer…I love you.”
Sawyer took a deep breath. He had to try to get this right this time. “Justine—”
“No, listen to me. Just shut up and let me say what I need to say. Okay?”
“I’m listening.”
“I love you. And you suck at saying you love me back almost as much as you suck at proposing, but I love you.” She twisted her hands together in front of her, taking deep gulps of air. “I’m scared. This scares me, the enormity, the foreverness of how much I love you. It’s scary. And I have a terrible track record, and that scares me, too, but I know this is different. This is…” She trailed off and rubbed her palms down the front of her ruined dress.
“You’re stubborn, and you figure out what you want and you push until you get it, and that scares me because I don’t want to lose myself.”
She took a cautious step toward him. “Marriage scares me, divorce scares me, and having my world ripped apart like that, it scares me. But I know I’m going to love you for the rest of my life, and I don’t want to do that without you.”
She spread her arms out. “So I’m here with my messy dress and my messy life to tell you that I’m sorry it took me some time to get past the scary. But I love you. And if you’ll ask me the question again, then I will say yes, and I’ll stop being scared of the scariest thing of all, that I’ve lost you.”
Pulling her close, he held her until his world stopped shifting, until he was sure she was here and this was real. He took a step back. “I take it back. You really are good at this.”
“Oh. Okay.” She nodded her head, eyes wide. “That’s it?”
He took her hand and pulled her through the house, into the perfect-as-a-showroom-kitchen. “Close your eyes.”
“Seriously?”
“It’s my turn, here. Close your damn eyes.”
She rolled her eyes and then squeezed them shut. Carefully leading her, he pulled her into the living room.
Hours ago, when he’d been more sure that she’d come, he’d covered the hardwood floor with candles, dozens of candles; down the steps and to the fireplace, to form a half-circle in front of it, right above a crescent of potted vibrant red dahlias in green plastic pots.
“Open your eyes, princess.”
She did, and looked at him in disbelief, and then she frowned. “You knew I’d come. Damn it, Sawyer, I’m not a predictable woman, how the hell do you do that?”
“No, I hoped you’d come. I don’t think I’ve ever hoped for anything this much. But I had to let you decide, one way or the other, on your own.”
“I love you,” she repeated, and the tears made her eyes shine in the candlelight.
He tugged at her hand, pulling her toward the dahlias and the candles. Over his shoulder, he spoke to her. “I do suck at proposing. Didn’t plan it, it just… I did it badly, the first time. And the second time.”
“So”—he pulled her into the circle of candles and flowers, and stopped—“I want a do-over.”
She gave him a look, like he’d missed the obvious. “That’s why I’m here.”
He knelt down in front of her, careful of the flames all around him.
“I told you I didn’t mind your life. That was a jack-ass thing to say. I want to marry you. I want to marry you because from the second you walked into my life, with that wiggly walk of yours, the world started making sense to me.
“I spent my whole life, waiting for this. I didn’t even believe in it. I didn’t know what it was, but then you were there. And now? I don’t want to waste another minute of my life without you. And we’ll deal together with the messy we both bring with us.”
Justine swiped at her eyes. “Shut up and ask me already.”
“Marry me. Make my life messy and complicated and perfect.” Sawyer took out the ring he’d bought earlier that day, when he’d walked down the street with Larry, and figured out what he had to do.
“You bought me a ring after I told you no?”
“I bought you a crazy, fiery ruby in…let me get this right, a platinum band and…it’s a princess cut. It’s you.”
“It’s a metaphor.” She beamed down at him through her tears.
“This is where you say yes, Justine.”
“Yes. I say yes.”
Sawyer slid his arms around her waist as he stood, lifting her off her feet, and kissed her.
When he pulled away she said, “Better put that ring on my finger. I’m unpredictable, you know.”
He kissed her again. “I’m not sure what to do next. I didn’t plan having to actually put all these candles out.”
“Just like you, no exit strategy.” She kicked at the candles nearest her, sending them toppling into the fireplace.
Sawyer took her up the stairs, beginning the tour of her new house in the bedroom, and lingering there for some time. When they lay together, tangled up in the blankets and each other, she admired her ring in the moonlight.
Sawyer tipped her chin up so he could look at her. “Don’t give me the unpredictable speech again, because I already traded away the exclusive on our wedding. And we’ve got to do a joint interview about our pasts. Both of them, because mine isn’t pristine, either.”
“And our first-born child, did you give that away, too?”
“He’s a friend, Justine, and we need to start clean.”
“I hope he doesn’t mind flying to Vegas, then. I think we should get married tonight.”
“Tonight?”
She nodded. “Getting cold feet, Heathcliff?”
“Let’s go book our flight, Bernice. We should put out those candles, too.”
Justine wrapped herself up in his black bath robe and followed him down the stairs to the laptop to book their tickets. He paused snuffing out the flames, to look around, because something was different.
Justine followed his gaze. “What’s the matter?”
And then it hit him. He was finally home.