It’s actually working. If there was any doubt in me that Dawson was prepared to keep his word, it’s vapor. Vanished. Voila.
Dawson rests his hand on my lap, palm up, and sets his eyes back on the screen.
I slip my fingers through his; enjoying the familiar sensation of holding hands with him. He rubs his thumb gently over the back of my hand, reminding me of the way he’d always do that very thing. When I give it a squeeze the way I used to, Dawson lifts it to his lips and plants a kiss on my knuckles. He sets our joined hands against the purring lump in his lap which, I realize, has his tongue sticking out and one eye open.
“While enjoying a formal dinner on that private jet,”Cy continues, “you’ll watch the first three scenes of your screenplay. During that time, seated in Seattle’s historical Paramount Theatre, a live audience will enjoy the show too. Then it will be time for the stars of the show to take the stage and perform the final scene live.
“You won’t have to worry about makeup, costumes, or the formal wear for dinner. Our crew will take care of that. Simply head out to the poolside to enjoy a leisurely brunch. As a reminder, tomorrow is decision day, which means you’ll each announce whether you’ve made a re-connection you’d like to continue outside of the house, or if you’d prefer to go your separate ways. Please resist the urge to discuss this matter until that time.”
I glance over at Dawson as Cy signs out. The smile on his face says we don’t need to discuss any of those details. We know what we want, and I can hardly wait to build our new life together outside of this house.
CHAPTER19
Dawson
Lying to Brinley is a nightmare. Talk about skin crawling—it feels like the entire surface of my dermis is covered in electric ants. I could kill Perry for having that memo delivered. Actually, that would be too kind. Torture would be better. For Perry, that would be denying him his regular Botox injections.
From the helicopter pad on the rooftop—something I spotted when we ate pizza up there the other night—I help Brinley into the chopper and climb in behind her, feeling like a jack-hole by pretending I don’t know what’s up.
I’m no dummy. I saw the way Brinley watched for my reaction to the news. The truth is, I almost wish thatwaswhat we were doing tonight. The whole event feels tainted and wrong, and I just want to get it over with.
At least I truly am clueless as to how and when they plan to tell me that we’re not actually flying to Seattle. The chopper lands beside a jet, its door wide open and ready for entrance. What a joke. I fight the urge to roll my eyes and summon my trusty acting skills. The sooner we get to thebig stupid reveal,the better.
Brinley brings our joined hands to her lips and plants a kiss on the back of my hand, the way I did to her earlier today. A wave of guilt shoves through me. She looks stunning tonight in a teal gown that accents her hypnotizing eyes; like a heavenly being; it makes me feel like the devil I am for going along with the ruse.
If I could rewind time, I’d tell Brinley that Perry revealed the big secret, then I’d assure her that it didn’t matter. That I’d be happy whether we went or not. At least then there wouldn’t be this giant lie wedging its way between us.
As we climb out of the helicopter, a limo pulls into the lot and parks longways in front of the jet. A wave of relief pours over me. This must be it.
I climb out first, then offer my hand to Brinley. I watch her eyes move to the limo before she takes my hand. Neither of us says anything, but as we start heading in the direction of the limo, one of the doors flings open.
Marsha Langston steps out, squinting against the late afternoon sun.
“Congratulations, Dawson,” she says, her chin high. “You’ve passed the test. Our production crew let you believe you would really miss the important awards show this evening, and Brinley agreed not to tell you. You see,” she continues, “you offered to miss the Emmys if it meant Brinley would go on the show with you.
“Since you might have done so thinking we’d make arrangements for you to attend, we let you think, right down to the wire, that that wasnotgoing to happen.” Marsha waves a hand in Brinley’s direction and gives her a nod.
“Go ahead and tell him.”
“We’re really heading to the Emmys,” Brinley announces with that angel face of hers. “Surprise!” I can tell—through her discomfort of the awkwardly staged announcement—that Brinley’s happy to let me in on the detail at last.
I slap on a smile. “You’re kidding, that’s great!” I pull Brinley in for a hug, wondering if it’s a normal thing to do at the moment. I feel like a phony.
I extend an arm toward Marsha to acknowledge her next. “Thankyou, too,” I say with a nod. “I’m grateful I’ll get to attend. Upside Clown means a lot to me.”
“That it does,” Marsha says. The woman steps away from the limo and waves a hand toward it. “Hop in,” she says. “I’ll be taking another ride to meet you there.”
With a hand at Brinley’s lower back, I make for the limo, yet just before I reach the open door, Marsha speaks up once more. “Oh, and Dawson?”
I glance over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“The screenplay will air throughout the ceremony tonight. To the viewers at home as well as the attendees. Next, you and Brinley will take the stage for a live performance of the final scene.”
I gulp and manage a nod. “Okay, wow, sounds like a plan.” I throw her a thumbs up and cringe at how awkward the action feels. “We’ll be ready.”
I help Brinley into the limo, but inwardly, I want to take her anywherebutthe awards show. I suddenly feel like a mama bear and she’s my cub. Brinley’s about to step into the Lion’s Den, and I’ll chew someone’s head off before I let anyone hurt her.
The feelings only intensify as we make our way down the crowded streets of LA toward the event center. I’ve known we were going since yesterday, but I hadn’t considered what it would be like. Having her on my arm and by my side, introducing her to my coworkers and friends—that all sounds great. But having her up on that stage, performing some cheesy screenplay to showcase our reality TV show?
