Page 102 of Take 2

“You’ll see.” After another minute, Ryan emerges with an armload of dresses. He tosses a blue sequin gown onto my bed. “This year’s awards.” The red lacy gown drops on top of it. “The year of your first nomination.” A ruffly pink dress. “The year before that when Cece and Stephen came to town.” The silver A-line. “The year I won my first Oscar.”

He knows all my Oscars dresses.

“Of course I saw you in this one.” He lays the sexy black cocktail dress on top of the growing pile. “It was complete torture seeing you at Lisa’s in this, by the way. The yellow one from the year before is in your suitcase, and I can only assume you wore it to dinner with Rafi to torture me.”

I cover my gaping mouth. “I didn’t even think of that. It’s so casual I forgot I wore it that year.”

“Your refusal to get it rumpled by having sex in it that night was cruel. And, of course, the year we were separated.” The navy jumpsuit dress tops the pile. “It did make me feel better that you wouldn’t be having sex in that.”

“Don’t know why you brought it out then.”

“Oh, it won’t be wearable afterward.” He closes the distance between us again. “But I believe we had a deal about your Oscars dresses.” His kiss ripples through my nerves and into my bones. None of that is going to happen right now because there is no way in hell we’re going to get any clothesontome.

“Wait. There was a year in between my nominations.”

“We already got that dress.” His hands slide around my waist and up under the back of my shirt. “Wasn’t that part of your evil plan when we went to the beach in Villefranche?”

I gasp as it comes together. “That’s why you looked like a cartoon wolf when I came out in that!”

“And why we didn’t take it off when I finally got to fuck you.”

“You saygot tolike I was the one who—”

My argument is silenced with another kiss. I’ll accept that this time, but if he thinks he can always shut me up like this … well, he might be right. I can’t imagine a time when I won’t prefer this to anything else.

“We have some time to get through all those, right?” I point to the pile of sparkly fabric with my eyes.

“As long as you keep choosing to be my girlfriend.”

Today, I choose to be with him. When one of us is already working before the other wakes up, when we’re cranky from late nights, under the covers, or at the coffee maker, we choose to be together. Whether we wake up after fighting or lovemaking, we choose to be together. Every day.

Epilogue

Five Years Later

Ryanholdsmyhandin my lap. James has the other on the armrest between us. Anna’s knees bounce through the slit in her skirt. This is all fine. I’d be just as happy to hearPreston Greeneas my own name. Nothing all that bad is likely to happen tonight. Unless Tarantino beats us both. That would suck.

We’ve both lost this award before, anyway. I wasn’t at all bitter when someone elsebeat Ryan for it a few years ago. There was a joke about him only being willing to be topped by me, and then, obviously, he was later that night. Anyway, losing original screenplay didn’t keep him off the stage. He joined Rafi and the producers when they accepted best picture.

Waiting for the envelopes to open always sucks, but I waited seven years to get back together with the love of my life after I divorced him. So, this is fine. He’s here with me now, hoping I win even though he’s nominated. In all honesty, I do too. He wouldn’t be surprised or offended if I confirmed that, but I’ve been tucking it away.

“And the Oscar goes to …”—my hand squeezes his—“Mirabelle Sheridan forWhen the Fog Cleared.”

I take both of my hands back to cover my gaping mouth. A kiss lands on my cheek from James’ side. I squeeze his hand and turn to Ryan. He’s on his feet and holds my hand as I stand. Our kiss is too short, but I would use up all my allotted time right here if he didn’t force me to go up to the stage.

“Congratulations, Bella.” Tears make his green eyes sparkle, and he nudges me to go up to the stage.

Anna and I exchange kisses on cheeks, and I almost forget! I pull the green scrunchie off my wrist and fling it at Ryan’s face. Of course, he catches it, but I didn’t really need the satisfaction of hitting him with it.

The skirt of my emerald-green evening gown opens to my upper thigh as I walk up to the Dolby Theatre stage. This dress was designed with input from Ryan with Oscars-dress-sex in mind.

I take the golden statue I’ve waited so long to hold and take a deep breath as I face the audience.How has Ryan done this three times?

Deep breath.

“This is a dream come true, and it wouldn’t have happened without a lot of amazing people.” And here’s my test of how fast I can talk. “Lisa, you’ve fought for my stories like they’re your own children. Ashleigh, you’ve kept me organized so I can finish something I start every once in a while. James, if you didn’t make me take breaks, I’d probably be dead by now. Rafael Medina, whose vision for this story elevated it and helped me grow as a writer. My parents, who always supported my crazy dream of making movies. And Anna, whose dreams are just as wild—I’m so proud of you.

“But funny enough, this isn’t the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me on an Oscars night. Seventeen years ago, I was at my house in Madison, Wisconsin, and a boy I had just met thought my obsession with movies was sexy. We had our first kiss that night, and three years later, he proposed after the Jennifer Lawrence falling show.” I catch my breath as the audience laughs. “People usually recommend keeping your ex-husband and your boyfriend away from each other, but mine are one and the same, so there’s no avoiding it. I’m probably going to have to keep the Oscars romance trend rolling by proposing to him tonight or something—”

Amongst the applause, there’s a pocket of shouting. Ryan stands with his hands cupping his mouth. “It’s a yes!”

“There we go.” I wave my free hand toward him. “Thank you to myfiancéPreston Greene for not beating me for the Oscar this time and for patiently waiting for our second chance. This would be meaningless without you. I love you.”

I’m herded off stage as theshut upmusic starts to play. My hand trembles around my Oscar, and I hold it to my chest so my finger can hook into the emerald and diamond ring hanging from the gold chain around my neck.

Ryan told me the best picture Oscar was the most meaningful—not because it’s the biggest award, and despite it being less specifically about him—because he had me. At the time, I blushed and was flattered, but I don’t know if I believed him. Now, I can’t imagine what it would have been like to win all those years ago without him by my side and the knowledge that I get to celebrate with him after. It wouldn’t have filled the hole in my heart where he belonged.

Did I seriously just proposeatthe Oscars?Giggles bubble through me like champagne will soon.

It isn’t as if this is the start of our second take. But this one won’t wrap for a long, long time.