“Yeah, but if I wasn’t up for the hundredth party that month, you’d go anyway, and that scared me.”
Dawson holds my gaze, his expression still cautious, but there’s moisture in his eyes as well. “That makes sense,” he says.
I nod. “I know going to those events was like a job for you, but you loved going. You’ve always thrived in that type of atmosphere and…and that’s the way my father is too. He thrives in the limelight. And pretty soon, none of us were enough for him.”
Dawson’s eyes clench shut as he exhales deeply. When he opens them once more, sets his gaze back on me, and nods, it looks a lot like surrender. “I guess I did make it easy for you to…assume I’d do what he did.”
He takes a step to close the gap between us. “But you have to believe me when I say I never would have done that.”
I gulp, then nod. No one here has a crystal ball, but I can tell he believes what he’s saying. “I knew you weren’t into Buffy,” I admit, surprising myself.
His eyes widen slightly, and soon he nods in appreciation. “Thank you.”
“I think you were right about how the breakup went down,” I add. “I was just pushing fast forward, you know? Skipping to the inevitable scene where it all ends so I could avoid the pain.”
“And I should have been more aware of how you felt,” Dawson says. “I should have shown you how much you meant to me. I’ve learned a lot, I’m ready to do that now, if you’ll let me.”
My heart is on wings. Floating, fluttering, flying alongside cloud nine and all its glory. Oh, how I want to let him show me that very thing.
My lips part as I consider how to phrase the words in my twirling, whirling heart. But before I can speak, the loud blast of a robotic buzzer sounds overhead.
“Yoo, hoo,” comes Cy’s vibrating tone. “Please head to the video diary nook one by one for a very special announcement.”
Dawson glares at an upper corner of the studio, showing how aware he is of where the cameras are. “Right now?” he says through a clenched jaw.
“Precisely right now,” Cy assures. “You first, Dawson.”
Dawson holds my gaze as he deftly takes backward steps toward the stairs. “To be continued,” he assures.
As soon as he steps out of the room, I replay his declaration in my mind. It is everything I could want to hear, and I can’t help but think we’ve jumped ahead somehow in this process. We’re not supposed to declare our intent—
“Oh,” I blurt as it suddenly occurs to me. That’s why Cy stopped things. Yesterday we got the green light to rehash our relationship—hence the explosion during rehearsal—but as per the show’s agreement, we’re to reserve all talk of our intent beyond this house for the finale.
That’s fine by me. I have a whole new level of hope for this relationship. Sky-high hope that still soars in my chest. Part of me wants to tell Dawson about the Emmys now. I no longer feel the need to test him and see if he’s sincere. Besides, it wouldn’t be a rational thing to expect. We’re in LA; the Emmys are in LA. We’re already being filmed day in and day out.
I’m not sure if Marsha would mind, but I don’t plan to ask. I’m going to tell him that he won’t have to miss them after all.
“Brinley,” comes Cy’s voice next. “It’s your turn.” A wave of nerves rushes through me. I guess I should tell him right now. But suddenly the thought doesn’t sit right. I walk slowly toward the steps, debating on whether I should tell him, feeling less and less sure about it each inch of the way.
I pull open the door and step into the house, half expecting to see Dawson headed back to the studio. I don’t. Maybe that’s for the best. Emmy night was the one card I had coming into this place, and I probably shouldn’t relinquish it so fast.
Dawson says he’s changed, that he’s ready to make me priority, and I believe him. But why not let him put that into action before we leave? Already the fear stirring in my chest is gone. It’s the best choice to make.
Tomorrow, we’ll see if Dawson really means what he says.
CHAPTER17
Dawson
Three thoughts fight for headspace as I lie on the cot for the fourth night straight.
One: I didn’t explain myself, the way that I’d hoped to, during the topic of my career with Brinley. I think I was right to hold back though; the timing wasn’t right. Had I broken into a list of reasons—things that make me the way I am—it would have sidetracked our mission. I’m convinced there’ll be time for that later.
The very wordlaterleads me to the second course on my mental plate: The Emmys. I hoped to tell Brinley about the docuseries and what it means to me in hopes that she’d say I should go.Weshould go. Originally, I decided against doing that very thing, but now I regret not having breached the topic.
The truth is, I’d rather stay here with Brinley any day, but the series isn’t about me. There are real people, parents, teachers, and kids behind this. It’s a cause I’m passionate about, the way Brinley is about hers, and it wouldn’t be right for me to brush it off and not show up.
That leads me to course three: Perry, my persistent PR rep, managed to get a message through earlier today. A hand-written note he had one of the cleaning crew deliver. It said that I was, in fact, going to the Emmys and that Brinley has known it all along. Turns out she and Marsha planned to test me and see if I was really willing to miss them.
