Page 129 of Lucky 22

Although that almost sounds like too much.

Still, I shower, scrub off all the makeup, and get all theproducts out of my hair. By the time I’m drying off, I feel ten pounds lighter.

Staring at my reflection, I look for signs. Do I lookdifferent? Do award winners look different? Am I supposed to? But all I see isme. Little Ella Rose Holt. The girl with the big dreams who worked her fannyoff to make them happen.

“We did it,” I whisper, wishing I could go back and telltwelve-year-old me the news.

Yawning, I quickly dry off and slip into my pajamas becausemy bed is seriously calling my name.

I walk into our bedroom as I loosely braid my damp hair andspot Christian already in bed. “How was your shower?”

I hum sleepily as I climb in beside him and promptly rearrangemy pillows so I can get comfortable. “Mmm…it wasexactly what I needed. Although tomorrow, I may still have to…” I lean backagainst the pillows and see it.

My Emmy.

On the ironing board.

“I hope you don’t mind that I reused your epic display,” hesays softly. “There was no way I was leaving that award on the coffee table.It’s too special.”

“Are you kidding? This is amazing.” Resting my head on hisshoulder, I stare in wonder at the statue. “I love that you did this. Thankyou.”

“How could I not? I remember how I felt when I came into ourroom that night, and you had my MVP trophy on display.”

“And I remember how I couldn’t believe you had just left iton the floor.” We both laugh, snuggling closer.

“Well, like I said earlier, we need some proper displays toshow off our awards. We worked hard, and we should be proud of ouraccomplishments.”

I have to agree. Right now, his trophy is on display at hisparents’ house. I always hoped that someday we’d be able to show it off in ahome of our own.

Someday.

We sit in companionable silence for several long moments.

“Your tea is going to get cold,” he gently reminds me, butI’m too comfortable to move.

“I know. I don’t think I have the energy to even reach forit. Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.” I feel his soft lips at mytemple. “We can stay just like this. Or should I turn on the TV?”

“I’m not done staring at her yet.”

“Her?”

“Emmy. I mean, look at her. She’s a winged woman holding anatom. Her.”

“Ah. Got it.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“If you’re into golden-winged women holding atoms, sure.”

That makes me laugh.

“How are we going to celebrate this?” he asks. “What wouldyou like to do?”

“I know I’m going to have like…a hundred phone calls andtexts tomorrow. I really wish our families could have been here to celebratewith us.” I’m a little sad they’re not. “I know they couldn’t have come to theactual awards show with us, but it would have been wonderful to celebrate withthem afterward.”

He’s quiet for a minute. “We still can.”