Shopaholic to the Stars
Page 152
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And as I look at the beads, my spirits plunge further. I feel like everything has been ruined tonight. My stupid Hollywood dreams, my plan to be a celebrity, my friendship with Suze—I feel a fresh crush of pain and take a deep, shaky breath. I need to hold it together. I need to find Jeff. I need to …
Wait.
I gulp and stare, unable to move. I can’t believe it.
Coming up the red carpet—the empty red carpet—is Luke. He’s walking steadily but purposefully, and his eyes are fixed on mine. He’s wearing his dark Armani overcoat, and I can see that underneath he’s in black tie.
As he gets near, I start to tremble. His face is taut and stern, giving nothing away. There are tiny shadows under his eyes, and as he reaches me, he doesn’t smile. For one awful moment I think he’s come here to divorce me.
“I thought you went to New York,” I falter, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I did.” He nods gravely. “I did. And then I turned straight round and came back again. Becky, I behaved atrociously. I’m sorry. To you and to my mother. It was unforgivable behavior.”
“It wasn’t!” I say at once, flooded with relief.
“You have every right to be angry with me.”
“I’m not. Honestly, I’m not.” I gulp. “I’m just … I’m so pleased to see you.”
I reach for his hand and clasp it tight. I never expected to see Luke here. Not in a million years. His hand is warm and firm and feels like it’s anchoring me. I never want to let it go.
“Why aren’t you inside?” He jerks his head toward the auditorium. “Has the evening been a success?”
Part of me longs to say, Yes! It’s been brilliant! and regale him with my triumph. But there’s a bigger part of me that can’t lie. Not to Luke. Not when he’s standing here. Not when he flew back from New York. Not when he’s the only person at this premiere who actually cares about me.
“It’s not what I thought,” I say at last. “Nothing’s what I expected.”
“Mmm.” He nods, as though he can read my mind.
“Maybe …” I swallow. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I am a bit lost.”
For a moment Luke doesn’t say anything. Those intense dark eyes of his meet mine, and it’s as though we don’t have to talk. He can sense it all.
“I was brooding about that all the way to New York,” he says finally, his voice deep and gravelly. “And then it hit me. I’m your husband. If you’re lost, it’s up to me to come and find you.”
With no warning, tears start to my eyes. After everything I did to annoy and upset him. He came to find me.
“Well … here I am,” I manage, a lump suddenly in my throat, and Luke sweeps me into his arms.
“Come here,” he says against my wet cheek. “No one should have to go to a premiere on their own. I’m sorry, my darling girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble back, sniffling against his white collar. “I think I lost the plot a bit.”
Luke offers me his handkerchief, and I blow my nose and try to repair my eye makeup a little while he waits patiently.
“All the interviewers called me Betty,” I tell him. “Betty.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Betty? No, I can’t see it.” He glances at his watch. “Now, what shall we do? You want to go back inside?”
“No,” I say with resolve. “I want to find my dad. I want to make up with Suze. I want to hug Minnie. I want to do anything but go inside.”
“Really?” He meets my eyes—and I can see he’s asking me a bigger question. The same question he was asking me before. It seems so long ago now.
“Really.” I nod. “It’s … it’s over.”
“OK, then.” His eyes soften. “OK.” He takes my hand, and slowly we start to walk back down the empty red carpet.
They talk about rose-tinted spectacles. Well, I think I’ve had red-carpet-tinted spectacles. I mean, this red carpet is actually quite tatty, now it’s empty of celebrities. As Luke and I walk along, hand in hand, there are cameras still banked along the barriers, but we have the carpet to ourselves. It reminds me of strolling along the Walk of Fame, weeks ago, when we were new to L.A. and it was a big adventure ahead of us. I can’t believe how much has happened since then.
“I need to build bridges with my mother,” says Luke.
“Yes, you do.” I nod. “And you will. It’ll be wonderful. Luke, you should see your mum with Minnie. They’re amazing! They’re actually very similar.”
Wait.
I gulp and stare, unable to move. I can’t believe it.
Coming up the red carpet—the empty red carpet—is Luke. He’s walking steadily but purposefully, and his eyes are fixed on mine. He’s wearing his dark Armani overcoat, and I can see that underneath he’s in black tie.
As he gets near, I start to tremble. His face is taut and stern, giving nothing away. There are tiny shadows under his eyes, and as he reaches me, he doesn’t smile. For one awful moment I think he’s come here to divorce me.
“I thought you went to New York,” I falter, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I did.” He nods gravely. “I did. And then I turned straight round and came back again. Becky, I behaved atrociously. I’m sorry. To you and to my mother. It was unforgivable behavior.”
“It wasn’t!” I say at once, flooded with relief.
“You have every right to be angry with me.”
“I’m not. Honestly, I’m not.” I gulp. “I’m just … I’m so pleased to see you.”
I reach for his hand and clasp it tight. I never expected to see Luke here. Not in a million years. His hand is warm and firm and feels like it’s anchoring me. I never want to let it go.
“Why aren’t you inside?” He jerks his head toward the auditorium. “Has the evening been a success?”
Part of me longs to say, Yes! It’s been brilliant! and regale him with my triumph. But there’s a bigger part of me that can’t lie. Not to Luke. Not when he’s standing here. Not when he flew back from New York. Not when he’s the only person at this premiere who actually cares about me.
“It’s not what I thought,” I say at last. “Nothing’s what I expected.”
“Mmm.” He nods, as though he can read my mind.
“Maybe …” I swallow. “Maybe you were right. Maybe I am a bit lost.”
For a moment Luke doesn’t say anything. Those intense dark eyes of his meet mine, and it’s as though we don’t have to talk. He can sense it all.
“I was brooding about that all the way to New York,” he says finally, his voice deep and gravelly. “And then it hit me. I’m your husband. If you’re lost, it’s up to me to come and find you.”
With no warning, tears start to my eyes. After everything I did to annoy and upset him. He came to find me.
“Well … here I am,” I manage, a lump suddenly in my throat, and Luke sweeps me into his arms.
“Come here,” he says against my wet cheek. “No one should have to go to a premiere on their own. I’m sorry, my darling girl.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble back, sniffling against his white collar. “I think I lost the plot a bit.”
Luke offers me his handkerchief, and I blow my nose and try to repair my eye makeup a little while he waits patiently.
“All the interviewers called me Betty,” I tell him. “Betty.”
He raises his eyebrows. “Betty? No, I can’t see it.” He glances at his watch. “Now, what shall we do? You want to go back inside?”
“No,” I say with resolve. “I want to find my dad. I want to make up with Suze. I want to hug Minnie. I want to do anything but go inside.”
“Really?” He meets my eyes—and I can see he’s asking me a bigger question. The same question he was asking me before. It seems so long ago now.
“Really.” I nod. “It’s … it’s over.”
“OK, then.” His eyes soften. “OK.” He takes my hand, and slowly we start to walk back down the empty red carpet.
They talk about rose-tinted spectacles. Well, I think I’ve had red-carpet-tinted spectacles. I mean, this red carpet is actually quite tatty, now it’s empty of celebrities. As Luke and I walk along, hand in hand, there are cameras still banked along the barriers, but we have the carpet to ourselves. It reminds me of strolling along the Walk of Fame, weeks ago, when we were new to L.A. and it was a big adventure ahead of us. I can’t believe how much has happened since then.
“I need to build bridges with my mother,” says Luke.
“Yes, you do.” I nod. “And you will. It’ll be wonderful. Luke, you should see your mum with Minnie. They’re amazing! They’re actually very similar.”
