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Out of nowhere, the sparkle on Georgina’s finger has me imagining me slipping a similar rock onto Laila’s hand. Not only asking Laila to live with me in whatever fancy house Reed helps me find, but to marry me, too. Suddenly, I realize the idea of proposing to Laila doesn’t even freak me out! Actually, whoa, yes, it does. But only a little bit. Not as much as I would have thought. And that’s a pretty mind-blowing development.
“. . . or in the hills?” Reed says from across the kitchen.
“Huh?” I say. “Sorry. My mind was wandering.”
Reed says, “I asked if you want to live by the coast or in the hills.”
“Coast.”
“Okay, I’ve got the perfect real estate agent in mind. I’ll text her now and tell her to drop all her silly plans for tomorrow.”
“Thanks so much, Reed.”
“What’s your budget, so I can tell her?”
“You know my financial situation better than anybody. What should my budget be?”
“With all the exposure you’re about to get from the show, the new album and your duet with Laila will both be smash hits. So, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now, in the near future, I think it would be very realistic for you to get a place in the range of seven to nine mill.”
“Whoa. Seriously? I bought a house for my grandma in Chicago for five mill, and I had to take out a huge loan.”
“You won’t have to do that this time. How much is the show paying you?”
“Zippo.”
“What?”
“They’re not paying me a dime. They were initially going to pay me four mill for the season. But through a series of events I don’t particularly want to talk about, I’m now making exactly zero dollars for being a judge on the show.”
Reed looks flabbergasted. “What the fuck, Savage?”
I laugh, realizing I’m not mad in the slightest about the money I’ve paid to Laila, or about the money I’m letting the show keep to ensure Laila remains on the show. In fact, I’d do it all again, if it would ensure I’d be right back here in my life, head over heels in love with Laila, wanting to move in with her. “What can I say? I traded money for love,” I say. “And I’d do it again.”
Reed chuckles. “Goodnight, Savage.”
“Goodnight.”
Reed and Georgina exit the kitchen. And when they’re gone, Amalia turns to me and says, “Adrian, I don’t know what you did to ‘trade money for love,’ but whatever it was, I know Mimi is smiling down on you, feeling very, very proud of you for doing exactly that.”
Twenty-Nine
Savage
“Savage!” Laila shrieks happily from the foyer of our massive reality TV mansion.
At the sound of Laila’s voice, the ache that’s been ravaging my heart since Mimi’s death and Laila’s departure on her trip feels instantly soothed. In fact, as Laila gleefully screams my name again, my heart feels as gleeful as she sounds. I feel happy. Relieved. And certain of the path I’ve been sprinting down the past couple days in Laila’s absence.
Having returned to this house from Reed’s only a few minutes ago, I’ve been sitting here on the couch, excitedly skimming the offer Reed’s real estate agent just submitted for me on the house of my dreams. It was a dream I didn’t even know I had a week ago, but now that I’ve seen that house, and Laila is back, and I can so clearly envision how happy I could be with Laila, I know in my bones Mimi was right all along. This is what I’ve always needed and wanted. Love. Acceptance. Trust. Family. Stability. Grace. And I’m going to have it all with Laila.
Quickly, I slam my laptop closed and sprint through the house toward the foyer. When I get there, I find a tanned and sparkling Laila, surrounded by far too many pieces of luggage for her short trip to Mexico. When she sees me, she barrels to me, and then launches herself into my waiting, open arms like a missile. Somehow, I catch her without falling over, and as she wraps her legs around my waist and peppers my face with kisses, I squeeze her tightly, clutching her to me, groping her ass, breathing her in, and, finally, kissing her deeply, without holding back. For the first time since Mimi died, I suddenly, in this moment, feel like me again. Only better. I feel at peace now. I feel whole, despite the Mimi-sized hole in my heart.
I love you, I think. But what I say is, “I missed you.” Once I start saying the magic words to Laila, I’m sure they’ll pop out of my mouth as easily as “good morning” and “goodnight.” I certainly had no problems saying them to Mimi. And I say them to Sasha all the time, too. But saying them to Laila feels different. Monumental. I want to be sure, totally sure, when the words come out of my mouth, they’ll be met in kind.
