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Jenn, my publicist, wanted me to walk the red carpet, but the limelight holds very little appeal for me. Also, I didn’t think we would win.
I knew the song was amazing, but to win an award that Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Bryan Adams and fucking Aerosmith have also won - seemed completely out the realm of possibility.
I didn’t want to be one of those people caught by the camera scowling when someone else’s name was called. I stayed in New York and was in my studio working when the call came that I’d won.
I’m on the edge of the kind of fame and recognition most artists dream of.
But tonight, all of that fades into background noise to the riot of nerves this evening has induced.
I’m about to see the woman I love again for the first time since we found out we couldn’t be together.
And I’m afraid of what I’ll do.
What if she doesn’t want to see me?
“I heard she’s been nominated for the Visionary Hero award by Vogue Magazine. Her star is on the rise, and no one even knows who she is. I need her publicist. That’s some serious voodoo.”
“She’s a darling now, but it won’t last long,” Dean chimes in.
“Why not?” I ask, and my tone is sharper than I intended. But, the certainty of his answer, when he doesn’t even know her personally is irksome and shallow. And Dean Orleans is neither of those things.
“Because, she’s been put on an impossible pedestal. They’ve attributed her with all sorts of superhuman levels of wisdom and foresight. Once they know she’s just an average human, they’ll enjoy tearing her apart more than they enjoyed helping make her famous.”
I snort in disgust at how wrong how he is.
“She’s not even close to average. And she’ll eat the tabloids for lunch, she’s dealt with worse than them,” I say absently, as I stare out of the window at neon white and red light of the sea of metal and rubber. We’re moving up Central Park West.
The car is dark, lit only by the lights that comes in from the outside. We’re all cast in shadow. But even through all of that, I can feel the energy in the car change. I can feel all three of my fellow passengers tense.
“What?” I ask, my neck prickling with worry.
“Do you know her?” Nadia is the first to speak.
I stiffen and replay what I just said and realize I nearly gave myself, and her, away.
I can feel the weight of their expectant gazes on me and I know that I said can’t be unheard. So, I tell them the truth.
“Yeah, I know who it is. At least… I think I do. Her art is distinctive, I’m pretty sure it’s the same person,” I tell them as nonchalantly as I can.
“Oh my God, you know her and you didn’t say anything. You know I’m obsessed with her Carter,” Nadia, shrieks and shoves me playfully and then, claps her hands together.
”You have to ask her to paint me, Carter. Oh my God, can you imagine?”
She waves the phone at me again, this time it’s open to Beth’s Instagram and I look away from it.
“Who is she?” Dean’s quiet question is loaded with demand and suspicion. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Or burst into tears. Or both. So I cover with a smile I don’t mean.
“Well, if you weren’t the biggest talent agent in the world and Nadia here wasn’t the world’s biggest gossip, I’d tell you. But clearly she doesn’t want anyone to know. So…lips are sealed.” I waggle my eyebrows and smile and hope that it’s enough.
Since I found that she lives here, or at least was here when she mailed Hetal her painting, I’ve been low key freaking out. If she doesn’t show tonight, then I’m not sure what I’ll do.
It’s a big city, there’s no reason our paths should cross while she’s here. And yet, I already know that I will find a way to make it happen.
Between Now and Always, I will love him.
She still loves me, too. She’s tattooed it on her body that she always will. But, will she want to see me?
“We’re here. I can’t believe it,” Nadia’s excited voice pulls me back to the present.
