But I got some guidance on how to handle things with Quint. I have a plan now. After I get back to Balsam Grove, I’ll go over to Quint’s house, and we’ll talk this thing through. I feel like a total asshole for putting the talk off, but I didn’t really have a choice with the shooting schedule. Maggie had to cram in a few extra scenes since Sav and I were both leaving for the weekend.
Plus, I needed to formulate some kind of plan. Because I can’t just throw caution to the wind and jump into this without one. My anxiety could not handle that.
But Monday feels so far away, and this event is going to be loud and bright and crowded and I won’t have anyone to hold on to. I won’t have Quint. I glance around the back of the limo, taking in all the little details to try to ground myself before I get inundated with sensory overload at the theater. Black leather seats, a subtle trail of white lights along the floorboards, the hint of my reflection in the dark glass separating us from the driver. The studio sent a car and Miles is still in Alberta so it’s a stranger in the driver seat.
I run my hand along the smooth surface of the seat as my assistant goes over her checklist of who I need to be seen with, who I need to give an interview to, and the general points I should be hitting about the film when I talk to people. With over a year between the wrap of filming and the release, I barely remember anything about it, so I should probably be listening, but I just can’t focus on that right now. And while I should be consumed with worry about the event, Quint keeps drifting back in to dominate my thoughts.
The car finally comes to a halt after shuffling along at a snail’s pace while everyone in front of us got dropped off.
“You got this,” Glenna says to me with a bright smile. It’s nice having her here in the limo. She’s an employee, but she feels like something more. Maybe not quite a friend, but definitely a friendly face.
“Thanks.” I smile back, my real smile, not my red carpet one, then turn to the window and crank up the wattage on my grin to an unnatural level while I wait for the driver to open my door.
The blinding lights hit hard, leaving me blinking away the black dots behind my eyelids.
“Aurelia, Aurelia!”
“Is it true, was it all a publicity stunt?”
“Over here, Aurelia!”
The onslaught of voices comes at me from all directions before I’ve even stepped out of the car, so I focus on carefully unfolding myself from the seat while maintaining the smile plastered on my face.
“Who are you wearing?”
“Quint, Quint!”
I wince at the sound of his name. I’m not going to answer any questions about him. That much I’ve decided. I’m not making up any more stories. I’m not sharing any more details, true or not, until I can talk to him about them. Tell him how I really feel and see if his offer might still be on the table.
I resist the urge to rub at the knot in my chest again. I’m acutely aware of every minuscule action I make, knowing how quickly they can take any small motion and use it against me.
But as my breath quickens and I start to worry I can’t handle the chaos and the lights after months away from them, I see him, walking toward me.
“Quint?” I ask, blinking to clear my eyes. Have I sunk to full-on hallucinations?
But he’s still there when I open my eyes, walking away from a smiling Sav. She winks at me from beside the entrance to the theater, then disappears inside as he continues to make his way toward me. He’s moving against the crowd, and at first it’s a struggle. He ducks to the left, contorts his body, slows to a stop and starts moving again. While I remain planted in my spot, watching, hoping he’s real.
But then the crowd starts to part in front of him. Celebrities in fancy dresses and sharp tuxedos shifting so the cowboy can make his way toward me. Except he doesn’t look much like a cowboy tonight. Tonight, he’s dressed to fit in. The tux is modern, molding to his bodyin a way that makes it look like it was custom-tailored for him. His shaggy hair is slicked back away from his forehead, and his hazel eyes are sparkling under the lights and camera flashes. He looks hot, but something’s missing.
And then he’s finally standing in front of me. I reach up to smooth a hand down his chest to make sure he’s not a figment of my imagination.
“Where’s your hat?”
He chuckles, face twisting in confusion. “I didn’t think it worked with the outfit.”
“Oh, it would have worked. Wear it next time.”
“Next time?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “But why are you here? How did you get here? I have so many questions.”
He holds out an arm for me, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “And I’ve got answers, but how about we run this gauntlet first. Maybe we can talk about everything once we’re inside.”
Right. I shake myself out of it. There are cameras everywhere, microphones to pick up the slightest conversation. Not what either of us need right now.
“Okay.” I slip my arm through his, and we step forward into the fray.
The lights are still as bright, the shouts are just as loud, but it doesn’t feel as overwhelming with him at my side. His solid presence is a silent buffer between me and the cameras. All eyes are fixated on me, on us, but I’m only looking at him.
