“I think that’s where it started,” he says. “When I read your story.”
“It’s not that good of a story,” I say.
“I guess I really like dragons, then,” he says. “Because by the time you walked up to my front door, talking to yourself, I think I was already halfway infatuated with you. It wasn’t just the story, I don’t think, though it was good. It was the way you wrote it. The way your brain worked. I liked that. A lot.”
The confession leaves me breathless.
“What you’re feeling,” he says. “The doubt? It never really goes away. Not really. I’ll never know if people go to see my movies because they like me, or because they think of my personal life as a never-ending car wreck that they’re hoping will show up on-screen.”
He looks at me.
“I should have asked,” he says. “What you wanted. From this trip. From me. From us.”
Us.
“The funny thing is,” he says, “I think we would have been a mess ten years ago. If you’d stayed. If I’d called. But now…”
The wind has picked up. The truck is warm, and it feels a little like we’re inside a snow globe.
“I can’t change how people see you. I can’t change the fact that you’re right about what they’ll say about us. About you. The world is unfair. They’ll forgive me and punish you. People will be cruel and they will be relentless and there will be times when there won’t be anything I can do about it. I can’t get all the Dan Mitchells in the world fired. I can’t promise that I’ll be worth it.”
It’s so quiet in the truck.
“Chani.” His voice is rough.
I look up at him.
“I want to be worth it,” he says.
I’m crying again.
“But you have to decide what you want.”
Simple as that.
Gabe continues. “You can take the truck and go to the airport. Ollie’s plane can get you back to L.A.”
There’s a jangling noise and he puts his keys on the dash.
“Or you can come home with me,” he says. “It’s your choice.”
He opens the door, letting in the cold and the snow, which settles onto the seat he’s vacated. The world feels muffled once he’s closed the door and I watch him walk away, his figure blurred by the snow.
My choice.
My heart is pounding, high up in my chest, almost like it’s trying to claw its way out of me. Ten years ago, I counted to one hundred. I waited until it was quiet.
It’s quiet now. So quiet.
I’m alone with my thoughts and my feelings and they are at war with each other. I want to run again. I want to take Gabe’s truck and go to the airport and fly back to L.A. on Ollie’s private jet and write the article and lie to everyone about what happened this weekend.
I slide across the seat and put my hands on the wheel. It’s warm. I can still feel what Gabe left behind. The warmth from his hands. The smell of his hair.
It would be easy to leave.
I think of everything that will be said if I stay. Of the articles, the comments, the smug confirmation that I’m exactly as unprofessional and undeserving as people thought.
But I realize—for the first time in a long time—that I don’t care.
I don’t care what people will say.
I know what I want.
I take the keys off the dash.
The wind fights me as I shove the door open, my scarf once again left behind.
I run into the white flurry of snow and hit something. Someone.
Gabe’s arms come around me. Steadying me for a moment before letting go.
There’s a bark and I realize that Teddy is with us too, her tail whapping against my leg as she circles us.
“I was coming to get you,” I say.
“Me too,” he says. “I forgot something.”
He takes my hand.
My heart goes up even higher in my throat. I’m afraid it will fall out onto the sidewalk if I try to say anything.
“In the midst of my very dramatic and completely unnecessary cinematic gesture, I forgot to say the one thing I should have said first.” Gabe looks at me.
My breath fogs in the air between us.
“I love you,” he says.
Our fingers are entwined, our palms pressed together. I imagine that I can feel his heartbeat there, but I’m pretty sure it’s just my own, beating harder and faster than ever before.
“I love your clever mind. I love your hair and your butt. I love how fucking brilliant you are, how bold and how brave. I love that Teddy loves you. And I’m pretty sure that my family loves you too. I love your ideas, your stories. And mostly I love your very big eyes and your very smart mouth.”