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“Your damn stylist,” he murmured. “She had to takeallnight? She couldn’t leave me ten minutes to—”
“What? Muss me up?”
“Why not? You know we’d go viral. Hashtag, Lacey’s just-fucked hair.”
I pushed him off, laughing. He tousled my hair. I tousled his back and snuggled into his arms. It could’ve gone either way when we came clean on that morning show — public forgiveness or a big dirty scandal — but Eric’s sincerity carried the day. He broke all our fans’ hearts with his tragic backstory, then put them back together with his words to me. With a declaration of love so pure, so heartfelt, no one could have doubted the depth of his feelings. Since then, we’d somehow become… hashtag goals. Like our relationship was the kind to aspire to. I couldn’t argue with that. For me, it was.
We had a morning routine now, a routine that I loved. Eric, the early riser, woke me with coffee, and we drank it together as we planned out our days. When one of us was on location, we did it on Zoom. Eric always kissed me when it was time to get going, or blew me a kiss if we were Zooming. He always said the same thing,love you. You’ll be great. I always believed him, because he made me feel strong. He made me feel like Iwouldbe great, and always had been.
Now, in the limo, he took my hand.
“Nervous?”
“Not really.” I squeezed his hand back. “I’ve got you with me. What could go wrong?”
“Tonight? Absolutely nothing.” He leaned in and kissed me. “You look perfect.”
“And you’re wearing my lipstick. No, no, hold still.” I tried to thumb his lips clean, but he brushed me away.
“No, now we match.”
“You look like a clown.”
“Mm, but I’myourclown.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. He wiped off my lipstick.
“I have this memory,” he said. “I’m not sure if it’s real. But I think maybe we had a cat when I was little, a huge, chunky white one with a black nose. I think my mom used to kiss it on top of its head, and it always had a kiss there. The ghost of her lipstick.”
I smiled at the thought. “You’re remembering more lately.”
“It hurts less when I let myself.” Eric looked away. “For the longest time, I refused to look back. Couldn’t stand the thought of when I was happy. But, I don’t know. That all feels wrong now. I loved my parents. They deserve to be remembered.”
“You deserve it too,” I said. “To remember the good times.”
Eric kissed me again, softly, on my temple. Our limo slowed, and I heard shutters snapping. Cameras flashed, bright in the twilight.
“Here we go,” said Eric. “Remember your smile?”
I flashed him a bright one. My pulse picked up. I wasn’t nervous, exactly — more like excited. Tonight felt like a party for me and Eric. A celebration of us and how we met, how we fell for each other in between takes.Lost Wartold two stories, at least to my eye — Lock and Kate’s tragic one, and my romance with Eric. Tonight would be my first time watching it start to finish.
I stepped out of the limo into a flurry of light, cameras flashing, spots in my face. I smiled my most radiant smile and shutters snapped all around me, and someone I couldn’t see asked who I was wearing. I knew when Eric stepped out behind me because the shutter snaps doubled. He slid his arm around me, and our smiles were all for each other.
“Lacey! Are you excited?”
“Eric, what’s next? Are the two of you planning more movies together?”
I told the press I was excited, and that working onLost Warhad been a dream. Eric told them he’d love to do more movies with me. I brought out the best in him, onscreen and off. That got him someawws and made my heart grow three sizes. A bright flash went off, and I blinked, blinded. When my vision cleared, I couldn’t see Eric. A chorus of cheers went up, and delighted shrieks. I turned to see what had happened and Eric was kneeling, holding out a ring in a black velvet box.
“Lacey Hall,” he said, when the hubbub had settled. “I know we’re married already. You’re mine and I’m yours. But I have one regret in our marriage, and that’s not giving you the engagement and the wedding you deserve — with your mom there, and Sam there, and all of our friends. So, Lacey, I’m asking you: will you marry me again?”
The crowd went quiet behind me, like a TV on mute. I gasped in the silence, catching my breath. I’d never thought to regret even that, in our marriage, but now Eric was asking, I wanted nothing more. I couldn’t wait to share all of it with Mom, with our friends.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, yes, I love you.”
Eric slipped the ring on my finger, all sparkling diamonds, and the crowd broke out cheering. Someone tossed flowers. Eric stood up and spun me and kissed me, and all around us, the cameras flashed. It was a glittering moment, Hollywood-perfect, but all I could see, all I wanted was Eric. And he was mine, and the future was ours — the love story of a lifetime, on our own terms.
The End
