Her eyes fill with tears, and she glares at me through them. “Don’t you dare make me cry on live television.”
Then she’s turning away from me, moving up the aisle to the stage where she belongs. Where she’s always belonged.
It’s not a quick journey, because we’re not the only ones standing. The whole room is on its feet, the applause nearly deafening, and it seems like every second someone is reaching out to hug or congratulate her.
Eventually she makes it to the stage, though, and I hold my breath as she climbs the stairs. Somehow she makes the ascent look graceful despite her skyscraper heels and five months’ pregnant belly. Of course she does…she is Veronica Romero-Sharpe, after all. She can do anything—including wear that intensely sexy Atelier Versace dress like she owns it, despite her round little stomach.
She takes the statue—her first Oscar but not her last, I’m certain—then turns to the audience with a smile so bright it outshines even the Harry Winston diamonds dangling at her ears. My chest swells with pride, with love…with gratitude, that this woman is mine. That she didn’t let me fuck things up all those years ago.
The crowd is still on its feet, movie stars and directors and producers alike standing for Veronica with huge smiles on their faces. I think they know—as I do—that few people have ever deserved an award more than she deserves this one.
Eventually the cheers and the clapping quiet down and then she’s speaking. I’m still holding my breath, this time because this is the first I’m hearing her speech, too. No matter how many times I offered to help her with it over the last few days, she wouldn’t let me near the thing. Just told me to mind my own business every time I brought it up.
“Wow, he’s really pretty, isn’t he?” She holds up the statue for everyone to see, then purses her million dollar lips and kisses the thing right on the top of its shiny gold head. The crowd roars with good-natured amusement.
“Standing here before you is a privilege. Making movies is a privilege—and a responsibility, one I’ve been honored to have been graced with for over fifteen years now. We are so lucky to do what we do, to be able to tell these beautiful, poignant, important stories, and I for one am so grateful for every moment of this gorgeous life that I’ve been given. There are so many people I need to thank for making this movie what it is.”
She lists off the cast and crew and I stop listening for a moment, just a moment, because I am overwhelmed that we are here. That this gorgeous, dazzling woman can stand up there and say those words, and mean them. Despite everything she’s been through—despite every battle that she’s fought and every crippling wound inflicted on her—she’s still here and she’s grateful for the life we’ve built together.
She might not be crying, but I am, even before she says, “And most important, I need to thank my husband, the brilliant, talented Ian Sharpe, for writing this book. For telling this incredibly important story, and for letting me be a part of it. We met four years ago over another book, another movie, and somehow it feels like we’ve come full circle.” She slides one hand down to rest on the slight swell of her stomach and I pretty much melt right there in the middle of the theater. “Baby, you came into my life like a sledgehammer, knocking down every wall I could throw up between us. It’s been a long and bumpy road to get here, but I’ve got to say, the view from here is pretty damn awe-inspiring. Thank you, Ian. Thank you, Academy. And most important, thank you to every single person who goes to the movies and gives us a chance to do what we do. I love you all.”
The music swells and she’s escorted offstage to more thunderous applause. And I’m left staring after her, wondering how I got so lucky.
For Sue Grimshaw and Gina Wachtel, for their encouragement, support, and never-ending supply of patience. I adore you both!
Acknowledgments
Some writers are solitary people, toiling away in isolation as they create their masterpieces.
I am not one of those writers, which means I have a lot of people to thank for helping me to make Lovegame what it is.
First of all, I have to thank my editor, Sue Grimshaw, who didn’t necessarily share my vision for this project but who gave me the space and the creative freedom to tell the story I wanted to tell. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for being the absolute best.