Valorous

When we’re not out driving around Southern California or talking about the foundation, we’re making love—in bed, on the sofa, in the pool, in the shower and once on the floor of the kitchen. We can’t get enough of each other, and I dread the day when he’ll have to go back to work. This little cocoon we’re living in can’t last forever, but I’m determined to enjoy every second of it for as long as I can.

On Sunday evening, we take a limo into the city for the Screen Actors Guild Awards at the Shrine Auditorium. Earlier, Flynn explained to me that these awards are particularly significant as they are decided on by peers, which makes them that much more special. The “Actor” is a coveted award. Unlike the Golden Globe he won for acting for the first time two weeks ago, he already has two Actors for earlier roles.

Because of his superstitious nature, he won’t admit to wanting to win for his performance in Camouflage, but I know he’s excited to see this particular role recognized by his peers. He poured his heart and soul into the role of a returning Special Forces officer who has to fight to regain his life after being grievously injured in Afghanistan.

“You look positively radiant tonight, Nat.”

In deference to my newlywed status, I chose a white dress for the event. Flynn says me wearing white is a bit of a “fuck you” to the media that are still freaking out about us getting married. My husband does have a unique way of phrasing things.

The dress is subtly sexy and highlights the tan I’ve acquired during my afternoons at the pool. It also looks great with the jewelry he bought me to wear to the Globes. I told him not to buy me something new for the SAGs. I’m perfectly happy with what I already have.

I appreciate how generous he always is, but I don’t need to be showered in expensive gifts to be happy.

On the way into town, he breaks open a bottle of champagne.

I break open a bottle of ibuprofen. We each take a couple of preventive painkillers since champagne gives us frightful headaches the next morning, and we’d like to indulge tonight.

When we each have a glass in hand, he puts his arm around me and draws me close to him. “Oh damn, what’s that?” He withdraws a velvet box from his pocket. “Where did that come from?”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. You should open it and find out.”

“I will not open it, because I told you not to buy me anything.”

“Did you? I don’t recall you saying that.”

I stare at him, incredulous. “You do too remember me saying it, because I said it two days ago.”

He shakes his head. “Not ringing any bells.”

“No wonder you’re up for all these awards. You’re a truly gifted actor.”

“Why thank you, sweetheart. Now how about you make me happy on my big night and open that.”

“If I open it, I’ll like it. If I like it, that’ll encourage you to do this again when I told you I don’t want you to.”

“Hmm,” he says, scratching at the stubble on his jaw, “I can see your dilemma. On the one hand, you’re burning up with curiosity because you really, really want to see what’s in there. But if you go along with me on this, chances are you’re setting a precedent for our entire marriage. I mean, can you imagine if I get a big idea to buy you something new for every formal event we attend together? With the way we pat ourselves on the back in Hollywood, you’ll need a storage unit for your jewelry. It is indeed a dilemma.”

“You’re totally making fun of me.”

“I am not! I’m simply summarizing the situation and the impasse at which we find ourselves.” Every beautiful inch of him is sexy in yet another tuxedo, this one by Armani.

His eyes dance with mirth as he pushes my buttons and tries to win me over to his way of thinking. He’s absolutely right about one thing—if I accept this gift, I will be setting a precedent, and that concerns me.

“Open it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“How about I open it for you, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to keep it.”

“What kind of BS is that? Of course I’m going to like it.”

“Do you ever actually swear? BS doesn’t count unless you actually say it.”

I get very close to his face and say, “Bull. Shit.”

He takes full advantage of my closeness to kiss me. “I love you, Mrs. G, and I love to pick out shiny things I think you’ll like. You’ll hurt my feelings if you make me take it back, so I suppose you ought to just open it so my feelings won’t be hurt.”

“Oh my God. You’re really going to play the hurt-feelings card?”

“I believe I just did.”

I snatch the velvet box out of his hand and open it. I think I actually go blind for a second or two from the shine of diamonds sitting in blue velvet. “Flynn… What? I mean…” I sigh, deeply. He’s too much for me. I lost this battle before it ever began.

He takes my glass and puts both of them in cup holders so he can remove the dazzling diamond bracelet from the box and affix it to my wrist. “There. Now I’m happy.”

“It’s beautiful, but—”

Laying a finger over my lips, he stops me before I can finish the thought. “No buts. You’re my wife, and that gives me the legal right to buy you anything I want whenever I want.”

I raise a brow. “The legal right?”

“Uh-huh. And the law says you gotta take whatever I buy for you, no matter what it is.”

“Where does the law say that?”

“Like you want an actual paragraph or something?”

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