To the Moon and Back - Melissa Brayden Page 0,112
sidewalk earlier that day with plans to meet for dinner. Lauren arrived in a long-sleeved gray dress and thin pink scarf. Carly wore her forest-green turtleneck and swept her hair back. Sitting there with Lauren, she couldn’t stop smiling.
“I’m happy you’re here with me,” Carly said.
Lauren reached across the table and squeezed Carly’s hand. “It just came to the point where I had to be honest with myself. I want us, Carly. You were in a bad place. I was in my own head, caught up in my own insecurities, and we let those things obscure the big picture.” She shook her head. “I don’t want us to do that anymore.”
“So let’s make a plan, because things won’t always be as easy as they were in Minneapolis.”
Lauren nodded and set down her glass. “I think we start with promising not to shut the other person out. I never confessed to you that I felt it was only a matter of time before you decided I was boring and mundane.”
Now it was Carly’s turn to set her glass down. “You’re the least boring person I’ve ever spent time with.”
Lauren pointed at her head. “Sometimes we get in our own way and tell ourselves the opposite. From now on, I refuse to swallow those feelings.”
“God, I wouldn’t want you to,” Carly said, sitting back. “The next time I spiral, and yes, there could be a next time, I will take your hand. I won’t shut you out.” She lifted her arm and let it drop. “Honestly, the only thing I can imagine spiraling about is not having you by my side.”
“That was a really good answer.” Lauren picked up her glass. “A toast. To getting it right this time.”
“Take two.”
“The more adult version.”
Carly touched her glass to Lauren’s and raised an eyebrow. “Saucy. I like it.”
Lauren blushed. “I didn’t mean like that.”
“Too late. It’s in the history books for all posterity.”
After that little exchange, they seemed to race through dinner. It was almost as if they had something more important to get to. Carly commented on how amazing the pasta was. Lauren mooned over her brined double pork chop, and when they were finished, Carly paid the check, posed for a photo with the server, and they spilled out into the night. Forty-Sixth Street was bustling, and they huddled together to keep warm. A saxophonist along the sidewalk played a slow rendition of “It Had to Be You,” making everything feel special, romantic.
“And now?” Carly asked.
“Take me to your place?”
She chuckled. “Not yours?”
“I know you, and you’ll have booked fancier digs. What happened to the wooing?”
Carly balked. “I’m not a movie star, Lauren. I play games on TV for a living.”
“Are you staying in a penthouse tonight?”
“Why, yes. Yes, I am.”
Lauren poked her in the ribs, and Carly grinned. “Shall we get your things first?”
Lauren considered the question. “Well, if you think I’ll need clothes before tomorrow.”
Carly tugged on Lauren’s arm with new purpose. “Definitely not. Let’s go.”
When they came together that night in the dim light of Carly’s hotel room, they undressed each other slowly. They took their time with each kiss, each caress, and each lingering gaze. There seemed to be a newfound appreciation of what they’d discovered in the other. For Carly, she’d found a best friend, the love of her life, a soul mate. She would cherish Lauren and spend every day making sure she knew that she was the most important aspect of Carly’s entire life.
“I love you,” Lauren said, as she gazed down into Carly’s eyes. She grinned and touched Lauren’s lips. “So much.”
“Say it again,” Carly whispered, cherishing the words.
“I love you. I’m in love with you. I plan to always love you.”
“I love you, too,” Carly said, cupping Lauren’s cheek with one hand. “To the moon and back.”
Epilogue
“What do you think about an entirely gray and white kitchen?” Lauren asked, hands on her hips. They’d been back in LA for a little over two months now. With Home Fires having been met with such critical success in New York, the producers were now mounting an LA run of the show and invited both Lauren and Carly to reprise their roles. There was nothing like satisfying stage work, and with two shows under her belt now, she looked forward to more. There’d even been a few calls exchanged between producers and agents about her and Carly reprising their roles as replacements in Starry Nights on Broadway. The water was definitely warm these days.
“I like gray,” Carly said, coming out of the bathroom. She had a streak of light blue paint on her cheek, and her hair swept up in a pink bandana.
Lauren laughed. “You look like Rosie the Riveter if she was awful at painting a bathroom.” She touched the streak on Carly’s cheek, but nope, it was already dry. “We can hire someone to do that, you know, if you’re struggling.”
“Struggling?” Carly squeaked. “Have you seen how closely I’ve stayed within the painter’s tape? I’m the Van Gogh of bathrooms.”
“Hmm,” Lauren said. “Maybe more like Picasso.”
“Still an artist,” Carly said gleefully.
The three-bedroom home Carly had purchased in Franklin Village was everything she’d once described it to be: adorable, full of sunlight, and perfectly situated. Now that it was Lauren’s, too, they spent their available days off making it uniquely in their joint style. Carly had the big ideas and Lauren reined her in, much like other aspects of their lives.
Rocky padded into the room, bleary-eyed from his afternoon snooze, and blinked up at them. Carly snatched him up and placed a kiss on his cheek. To pay her back, he offered her a tongue swipe. Then another.
“What time do you have to be on set tomorrow?” Lauren asked, giving Rocky a good scratch behind his ears.
“My call time is five a.m. Can you set a backup alarm for three forty-five?”
Lauren grimaced, not envying Carly in the slightest. The game show appearances, followed by the great write-ups on Home Fires, had her star on the rise. The studio-produced film offers had started rolling in once again, but to her credit, Carly hadn’t jumped immediately. She’d pored through scripts, selecting the roles she’d find challenging or fulfilling, even if that meant less screen time. She was relaxed, happy, and fulfilled. It certainly showed.
As for Lauren, she enjoyed her life as a student of the theater. She’d even talked with Jeanine about shadowing her in the future, a prospect Jeanine was very much in favor of. Stage managing was a great passion of Lauren’s, but maybe it was time she graduated to director. She had a lot of ideas of her own, and lots of stories to tell.
“Three forty-five, it is.” Lauren shook her head. “Ouch, by the way.”
“Right? Why do they hate me?” Carly stuck out her bottom lip.
“No one hates you. You’re too cute for hate.”
“Oh, I like that idea a lot.” Carly cocked a playful hip. “Do you want to help this cute person finish our bathroom wall?”
“Hmm.” Lauren made a show out of considering the offer. “Only if there is fooling around during and after. I can’t see you in short overalls and not get handsy.”
Carly offered an overly innocent smile. “It’s the very reason I invited you. Follow me.”
Lauren eagerly trailed Carly into their master bathroom, full of tarps, and tape, and paint, and brushes. Oh, my. She and Carly led a fairly exciting and diverse life by most people’s standards, but the mundane moments like these were the ones that Lauren cherished most. She looked forward to lazy afternoons by the much smaller pool in their backyard, gatherings with old and new friends alike, and the quiet of the night, when she could lie with Carly in her arms and know that she was right where she was supposed to be.
“I want spaghetti tonight,” Lauren said, as she painted. “I have no idea why.”
Carly pointed at her with a paintbrush. “Then we shall seek out this spaghetti and make it ours.”
They painted some more with the gentle sounds of Norah Jones playing from the small speaker Carly had set up in the bathroom. Lauren swayed her hips slightly to the music.
“Hey, Car?”
“Yes?”
“I really love you.”
“Good, because it’s not fun being hopelessly in love all by yourself.” They leaned in and exchanged a kiss over a can of paint.
“One more thing,” Lauren said. She pointed just above Carly’s head. “You missed a spot.”
Carly glanced up and smirked. “Still the project manager. You want to grab one of your Post-its and mark its placement?”
Lauren nodded, her heart full. “Lord knows I have enough.”