A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2) (50 page)

Chapter Twenty-Five

I hug Camille and Bridget good-bye, they wish me luck, and it’s finally time to board the plane to L.A. It seems like almost every time I get on a plane, something’s hanging in the balance. For once I’d like to board a plane happy, with my life fully intact.

The flight is uneventful, but I spend much of the time thinking about this past year. It’s insane to think that tomorrow is one year since I met Dan on the elevator. Since then my life has changed in so many ways and I’ve learned so much. I’ve opened myself up to new things and been bold enough to make unpopular changes in my life. I struck out on my own to discover what I really want and what I really need—suddenly, my drunken snowstorm conversation with Dan comes back to me. I chuckle to myself because isn’t that what Dan said? That he knows what he wants, what he needs? I hope it hasn’t changed because I’m not scared anymore.

He and I have been through a lot—our career ups and downs and my ongoing self-discoveries. He’s been so patient with me, and I laugh so much with him. Come to think of it, he’s like a male version of Camille and Bridget—an amazing friend, a best friend—but with lots and lots of benefits. Namely the benefit of love. I’m going into the next twenty-four hours white-knuckled, praying our relationship can withstand this test. There have been a lot of moments that could have derailed us, and I’m crossing my fingers, toes, and everything else that we haven’t gone off the tracks.

Shifting in my airplane seat, my mind turns to my mother and her surprise visit—what a surprise, indeed. I never could have predicted it. From “you’re everything to me” to “I’m sorry,” her words have begun to patch up the empty hole in my heart I expected to walk around with forever. But I wonder again—why the change? She’s always been so dead-set on her narrow way of thinking. “A story for another day” . . .
what story?

My mind wanders, hitting on this worry, that fear, this happy place, and before I know it, the plane is getting ready to land. Once I’m out of the airport, I notice how unusually warm it is for a February—a far cry from New York’s temperature. I take a cab to the hotel, check in, and unpack. I’m tempted to take a peek at the dress, but I don’t. It makes me nervous enough to think that tomorrow I’ll be putting it on. I settle in for the night.

Shockingly, I sleep through the night, probably because I’m in a different time zone. In any case, I wake up early enough and head downstairs for breakfast. As I pass the concierge, the woman behind the counter says, “Ms. Parelli?”

“Yes.”

“This message just arrived for you.”

“Thank you.” I take the envelope and step over to the side where the sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I tear it open.

Claire—A limo will pick you up tonight at six p.m. sharp to bring you to the premiere. Straight after the movie, the limo will drive you to where I’ll be. The driver will be instructed where to go. We’ll talk there.

My heart nosedives. Such a formal note.
Shit.
I panic and bolt back to my room to call Camille and read her the note.

“I think you’re assuming the tone of it. I mean, yeah, it sounds kind of stiff and direction-y, but he could have written it quickly when he wasn’t being watched or something. Try not to assume too much, okay? You won’t know anything for sure until you get there.”

“I suppose. How are you always so level-headed?”

“Tis my gift.” Camille laughs. “Take a deep breath and go for a run. It always clears your head.”

“Great idea—thank you.”

“You bet, sista! Now breathe deep and run!”

After we hang up, I change into some workout clothes, tie on my sneakers, and head to the hotel’s gym where I run for a long while. As Camille predicted, it clears my mind . . . until it’s time to get ready.

Bridget booked this hair and makeup team to come to my hotel to help beautify me before the event. Who knew this was a thing? So I shower to get ready, and with each passing moment, my heart beats a little quicker, a little harder. Fate awaits me. Well, it’s actually Dan who awaits me, but it’s all the same, really. Fate is the future, and I hope my future includes Dan.

The hair and makeup people arrive, and I sit in the room’s desk chair while they work their magic. There’s hair drying and styling and bobby pins and hairspray. Then they’re slathering me with lotions, plucking at me with tweezers, and gluing on false eyelashes. “Are you sure about those?” I ask the makeup artist.

“Oh yeah,” he says with a wink.

Once they’re done, they wheel me to the mirror. “Wow. I look pretty good. It’s amazing what makeup can do!” I say, noting my smoky eyes and contoured cheeks.

“It’s all about the canvas I’m working with, and you have a lovely canvas.” He smiles at me.

A warm blush sweeps through my cheeks. “Thank you.”

My hair is in a very loose, low braid-bun thing. A few seemingly random, wispy pieces hang loosely. “It won’t fall apart?” I ask the hair stylist.

“Nope. It just gives the appearance that it’s loose. Looks amazing on you, too—shows off your long neck.”

“Thank you,” I say as they pack their supplies and leave.

Time for the dress. I unzip the garment bag and gasp.
Oh my God.
It’s an exquisite, strapless, draped gown in the deepest midnight blue. I carefully remove it from the bag and examine it. The waist is trimmed with a sash of the same fabric, and a soft, perfectly proportioned fabric flower is situated on one side of the sash, where the dress’s fabric meets and gathers under. I unzip the dress and step into it carefully. It’s soft and flowy and has a high slit on one side. It fits me to a T. I’m in awe at Bridget’s ability to dress me so perfectly—from afar no less.

I find beautiful, strappy silver shoes at the bottom of the bag, which I sit to put on. I take a gander at the total look in the mirror—I’m overwhelmed. Between this amazing dress, the shoes, hair, and makeup, I’ve never felt more like Cinderella in my life. My Fairy Slutmothers strike again! I take a selfie and send it to Bridget along with the message:
You are my Fairy Slutmother no matter where I am. Thank you! I love you.

She’s quick to reply:
You’ll be the prettiest slut at the ball! Love you, too!

I giggle. Then I realize I have no jewelry—I didn’t think to pack any. I look in the garment bag, hoping Bridget packed something. Nothing.
Shit.
I try on the moon and star necklace Dan gave me just to see if it’ll go; surprisingly, it’s delicate enough to be a perfect accent.

The hotel phone rings—my ride is here. With a deep breath, I grab my clutch and make my way to the lobby where a bald, very tall, and muscular chauffeur is waiting. Frankly, he looks more like a bouncer. “Ms. Parelli?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Brad. I’ll be your driver tonight. This way.”

I follow him to the limo and situate myself in the back. My heart is pounding as we drive, and when we arrive to the premiere, I notice the line of limos we’re in. “Excuse me, Brad? Are we in line for the red carpet?”

“Yes, miss.”

Panic strikes. “Wait, no. You can’t drop me off there. I’m nobody. I don’t even have a date. No, no, no. You have to pull around back or something.”

He chuckles. “There is no back, miss. Everyone’s being dropped off here.”

“Oh my God. I’m the lone loser!”

Brad laughs hard.

I lean back and roll my eyes.
How can I possibly make my way down a red carpet without anyone noticing? Sprint? Ugh
. Finally, it’s my turn to get out and march down the bright red carpet all alone. I more or less want to die. Brad stops, gets out, opens my door, and with an amused smile, gives me his hand. “Thanks, Brad.”

He laughs. “You’ll be fine. Just walk fast.”

“You think?” I take a whole new kind of walk of shame down the stupid red carpet. For God’s sake, I’m only here to talk with Dan, who may officially dump me in the end.
Stupid, stupid, stupid,
I mutter with each step, a standard smile plastered on. No one really takes my photo, because, of course, I’m not recognizable, which is normally fine, just not down a red carpet!

I finally make it inside where I can safely hide in my seat, which is about halfway from the front, to the left, and against the wall. Soon enough, I’ll be blocked in. People begin filling in the seats all around me. I recognize some famous faces here and there, which would normally be pretty cool, but I’m anxiously waiting to set my eyes on Dan. Hopefully, I can pick up a vibe from him. I crane my neck around, searching.

I gasp.

There he is—Walking Perfection glides down the aisle with Len, who’s talking to him. Dan’s nodding. He’s in a midnight blue suit, which, strangely enough, almost matches my dress, a crisp white shirt, and bow tie. His hair’s a lighter blond now, which makes for a perfect contrast to the dark suit. He’s breathtaking. Effortlessly gorgeous. Mr. Beautiful. And he may or may not be mine.

He walks down the aisle—closer, closer, right there—
Hello! Hello!
I want to shout, but then he passes by to get to his seat, not looking my way at all. I’m hoping it’s because he doesn’t know where I’m seated.

Only a few minutes later, the director—crazy douchebag Sushman—introduces the movie and the cast, who stand and wave to the theater. I catch Dan’s eye, but there’s no reaction.
Does he not see me?
I wave a little, and he nods, but resumes his seat—no vibe, no nothing. I want to puke.

The movie starts, and it’s going to be brutal to watch one hundred and twenty minutes of one hundred and twenty percent Adonis on screen. I just want this over with. All these days and hours of being twisted up inside, waiting. I need the Band-Aid ripped off, already! In fact, I’m finding myself growing a bit pissed off.

The film is amazing, and I can understand why Dan wanted to do it. There are twists and turns no one expects—everyone gasps at the same moments, cries together at other moments, and we all wince during the fight scenes. Dan’s great. He’s somehow able to make me forget that we’ll be having a moment of truth in just a bit.

At the end, the audience cheers and gives a standing ovation. My skin prickles with goosebumps at the energy—it’s incredible. It must feel so rewarding to be on the receiving end of it. I’m standing and clapping like everyone else, and the cast, including Dan, stand and nod in thanks. He glances my way again and his face blushes, but he promptly diverts his eyes. I’m losing any remaining confidence I had going into tonight.

I look down at my stunning gown and wonder why I bothered to get dressed up just to be broken up with? It’s cruel, actually. My anger ratchets up a notch.

People stand and begin to mill about, talking and slowly making their way to the rear of the theater. Dan escapes out a side door that’s quickly blocked by security once he departs.
He can’t even say hello? What the hell?

The place is packed, and getting out takes forever. There’s no one to talk to, and I feel so uncomfortable and out of place. I just want to go home. Eventually, I follow the herd outside and search the sea of limos for my driver, Brad.
Great.
He’s a million limos deep. Rather than wait, I make my way to him.

“I would have picked you up at the door,” he says, opening the limo door for me.

“I needed the walk.” I slide in, glad to be out of there.
Let’s just do this.

“How was the movie?” he asks, as we crawl along at the most agonizing pace.

“Fine.”

“Just
fine
? Sushman’s movies are always fantastic.”

“I’m sorry. Yeah, it was. It
was
fantastic. I just have . . . things occupying my mind.” I sigh heavily and stare out the window.

He nods, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Sometimes you just have to breathe deep and trust, you know? It’s all a matter of trust.”

I grin. “Did my friend Camille call you?”

He laughs one of those contagious laughs. “No, she didn’t. Why?”

“That’s just something she would say to me.”

“Well, I’ve got a knack for reading people.”

“You sure do. So, where are we headed?”

“Not sure, miss. I just have directions to follow.”

We drive in silence for a long while, which makes me sleepy. My head bobs as I start nodding off, and as I begin to fall under sleep’s sweet spell, I think,
I hope I don’t ruin my hair.

“Miss . . . miss . . . Ms. Parelli. We’re here.”

I blink and yawn. “Oh! I’m awake. I’m awake.” I sit up quickly and stretch my neck a bit. “Ooh. I think I kinked it.”

Brad hops out and comes around to open my door. He holds his hand out to me, and I step out.
Oh! The cliff! I should have known.
I see a second limo—must be Dan’s.
Is that someone inside the backseat?
Must be Len. Ugh.
He wouldn’t bring Len unless this was going to be over quickly.

I’m sad and frustrated and angry that he’d bring me here of all places—our place—to end things. Then again, I suppose it’s fitting. End it away from the world, so I can scream and cry and make a scene and no one will hear or see it. I exhale and step off the road into the low-lying brush to rip off the Band-Aid once and for all.

“You okay, miss? Do you know where you’re going?” Brad asks.

“Yeah. I know exactly where I’m going.” I march across the uneven dirt, careful not to snap an ankle on the way. It’s chilly up here, but I’m heated enough to handle it. Finally, I round the corner, and Dan’s standing with his back to me, looking out over the ocean, with the moon and stars dangling in the sky. The scene is always breathtaking—straight out of a movie—but I can’t enjoy it tonight. Instead, I brace myself. “Hi.”

I see Dan’s shoulders fall with a deep exhale. He turns slowly—ever so slowly—just like in Sushman’s movie. The bright light of the full moon illuminates his perfect face, highlighting his sculpted cheeks and jaw, and his are eyes glinting. He’s magazine ready to break up with me.
Awesome.
But his furrowed brows and tight jaw tell me he’s serious, and my heart’s beating so hard it’s making me nauseous.

“Hi,” he says. He doesn’t move closer; he just stands there, staring at me for several awkward moments. “How’d you like the movie?” he finally says, tripping over his words a bit.

Small talk?
Seriously?
“It was . . . very good. You made me forget you were you.” I’m factual, and I hope I’m concealing my fears, which are feasting on my insides.

He nods and his face relaxes just a fraction. “Wow, thank you. That’s a pretty high compliment, especially from someone who knows me so well.” He pauses, seeming a little lost. “I’m really happy you were able to come.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Silence. The tension is thick, and I have no idea what to say. This is his court, and if he’s going to break up with me, I’m determined to stand strong for once. There’ll be no crying or running away. Nope. I’ll stand here and take it, defend myself, too, if need be.

“You look . . . amazing.”

What?
I nod, and glance down at my dress, which dances in the light breeze. “Thank you.”

He rubs the back of his neck and glances down before he says, “I’ve never seen you look quite so beautiful.”

What’s going on? Why’s he being so nice? To soften the blow maybe?
A stronger breeze kicks up and makes me shiver.

“Are you cold? I could give you my jacket.” He begins to take it off.

“No. That’s okay. I’m fine.” I put my hands up, motioning for him to stop.

He slides his jacket back on. “Right, right. Okay. Well . . .” He swallows and swipes the back of his neck again. “I guess I should say what I’m here to say then.”

“Yeah, I guess you should,” I say, frustration clear in my voice.

He seems a little taken aback. “I know the last two months have been . . . awful, really. No other words for it, especially the last couple of weeks.”

I nod.
No kidding!
I want to shout, but my belly’s too queasy to speak.

“Knowing you were going to go to dinner with Ian . . .” He sighs. “Was outright horrible, and given how it turned out, the guy’s lucky he’s in jail right now. Do you remember that girl I was with the night I punched him?”

“Yes.”
What, are you in love with her?

“She told me she suspected he drugged her drink once, but she just couldn’t prove it. I’m grateful she was brave enough to tell the police. That got the ball rolling on getting him arrested.” He pauses, examining me with his eyes. “Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, like he’s afraid of my answer.

“No. I’m okay. Waking up in the hospital was scary, since I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I’m very thankful the police showed up when they did.”

He exhales deeply. “Me, too. I was, uh, pretty upset when I found out.”

Our conversation is stilted, awkward even. He still hasn’t moved forward—neither have I for that matter.
The distance. Shit. I knew these weeks would ruin things.

“Anyway, enough of Ian . . . so between that and your dad’s party with Mark showing up—”

“Again, I’m sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming.”