Remember When 3: The Finale (Remember Trilogy #3)

I played his fingers with my hands, and said more casually than I felt, “Oh. Yeah, I know. I mean, I don’t have to like it, but I understand.”


At that, his mysterious smile turned into a full-force grin. “Why don’t you come back out with me for a while? You’ll love L.A.”

My heart just about leapt into my throat. “Are you serious?”

I don’t know why I was so surprised by the invitation. I mean, we’d pretty much solidified the decision that this thing was happening for us, that we were going to be together. I guess things had just happened so fast—well, after a decade-and-a-half, I guess the word fast doesn’t really apply—that I hadn’t really thought about the logistics of it all. But hell. I’d been in limbo since the night I packed up my apartment in New York. It was finally time to put the California Plan back into effect. It was almost as if I’d sub-consciously set up my life to be able to take off at a moment’s notice. No apartment to deal with, no nine-to-five to keep me tied in town.

Yet… he’d only asked me to come out to L.A. for “a while.”

I followed my new lay-it-all-out-there rule and confronted him, flat out. “Trip… I want to go with you. I do. But just exactly how long is… ‘a while’?”

His head fell as his shoulders started shaking. “You know, this new brain-vomit version of you is going to be a real pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Thanks a lot!”

“Look. You’re coming to California with me, end of story. I’m not letting you out of my sight. Last time I left here without you, I ended up engaged to the wrong girl.” He gave my hand a good squeeze and added, “I’d like to think the right one will be sitting next to me on that plane tomorrow.”

My stomach dropped out from inside me, my brain in a full-on panic. What he’d just said almost sounded like… a proposal. Almost.

He must have seen me go pale, because he tried to lighten the proposition. “It’s just that I don’t expect you to pick up and start a whole new life at a moment’s notice. That’s all I meant by ‘a while.’ I figure you’ll want to come back to Jersey at some point.” He grabbed both my hands in his again, smiling into my eyes, throwing away that whole “lightened proposition” thing when he said, “You know, so you’ll have time to plan for the arrangement to become more… permanent.”

Cue the marching band.

Screw it. How could I say no to that man? Why would I want to ever again?

I had a big, doofy grin on my face when I answered, “Okay. Yes. Of course I’ll come to California with you! I lost you twice already. I’m not stupid enough to do it again.”

Trip actually let out a breath, and I was startled to find that he thought there was a chance I would have answered otherwise. I decided to press my advantage.

“But… I have a condition.” I twined my fingers in his and bit my lip. He knew I was going for it. I expelled my request on a hasty breath. “I want to go to the Oscars.”

Trip’s posture slumped and he dropped his chin to his chest. I didn’t know what that meant, but I could see the smile playing at his lips.

“What?” I asked.

He shook his head and raised his eyes to mine. “I thought you were going to ask for something else.”

Before I could inquire about that, he said, “Which is the only reason I’m even considering this. You know I don’t do the award-ceremony thing.”

That I did. For all the years he’d been out in Hollywood, for all the Golden Globes and Oscars and MTV and People’s Choice Awards… he’d never made an appearance at a single one. He’d been nominated a bunch of times, even won quite a few little statues, but they were always accepted in absentia.

So, no. Trip didn’t do the award-ceremony thing.

“Why is that, exactly?” I asked. I’d always wondered, but could only come up with my own answers over the years. Stage fright? Too nerve-wracking?

He leaned back and swiped a hand over his face. “Shit, Lay. I don’t know. I didn’t even go to our prom because I heard I was a shoo-in to get King.”

I literally did a double-take as I stared at him in open-mouthed shock. “Whaaat?”

“You never knew?”

“Well, I heard the same rumors, I knew you were at the top of the list, but you never told me that’s why you didn’t go. But what does that have to do with going to an awards show?”

His lip curled into a snarl as he blurted out, “Because it’s the same thing? Because it’s stupid? Because it’s a big popularity contest?”

“You seem to have fared okay in that department. You’ve got an Oscar, for godsakes!”

“Amongst others.”

“Bragging now, are we?”

He sighed. “A little. Okay, yes. I’m bragging. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel great to win those things.”

I gave him a see? face.

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