Now That I've Found You - Kristina Forest Page 0,83
my life.
Milo moves to follow me. I almost forgot he was here. But now I’m reminded of another reason that I have to be hurt. He reaches out to touch my shoulder or maybe give me a hug. I’m not sure—all I know is that I don’t want it. I step back to evade him. Gigi catches the motion with a frown.
“I’m sorry, Evie. Don’t be upset with him,” she says. “I just wanted Milo to look out for you.” Her eyes widen when I walk toward the stairs. “Where are you going?”
“I have to get ready for the ceremony.” I pause, waiting to see what she’ll say, if she’ll change her mind.
“If that’s what you want to do, I’m not going to stop you,” she says. “But you don’t need it. All you need is to believe in yourself. You’ll realize that the opinions of those people don’t matter.”
Numbly, I turn around and walk downstairs. I hear the sound of Milo’s heavy footsteps following me, but reality doesn’t snap into focus again until I’m outside.
I start walking, trying to understand everything that just happened. Then I’m gasping for breath, and I realize that at some point I started running.
“Evie,” Milo calls. He runs ahead, coming to a stop in front of me. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I stop him before he can say anything else. “Milo, please.”
I’m surprised when he steps back and lets me pass him.
Gigi isn’t coming to the ceremony. Maybe I should feel some way about this, but I don’t. I don’t feel anything.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I do feel something as we’re on our way to Rockefeller Center for the ceremony. What I feel is panic.
“So let me get this straight,” Kerri says, an email draft open on her phone. “You found your grandmother, but she still isn’t coming to the ceremony, you’re accepting the award on her behalf, and now you’re not sure about the remake anymore?”
When I finally returned to the hotel in even worse shape than when I first showed up, Kerri didn’t freak out. She sat me down and gave me a few minutes to breathe, and then I went straight to the makeup chair. I’m wearing a black gown that she and I chose before I left LA, designed by Christian Siriano. The bodice is a sleeveless V-cut, and the skirt billows out like a dress made for a princess. I look beautiful and put together, but I feel like an absolute mess.
“That’s right,” I say, trying to remain as calm as possible. It’s not working. I’m sweating in this dress. And I’m wearing a big curly wig so no one will know that I actually cut off all my real hair.
“I’m sending an email to the FCC committee right now to give them a heads-up,” Kerri says, moving her thumbs at the speed of light.
My breathing is getting heavier, and I’m starting to feel dizzy.
“Am I having a panic attack?” I say.
Kerri breathes slowly in and out and encourages me to copy her. She puts her hand on my arm. “Evie, look at me. Are you sure you want to do this? I’ve been behind you every step of the way, not only because it’s my job but also because I believe in you, but if this isn’t what you want to do, I can reach out to the committee right now and tell them that you can’t make it.”
I almost take her up on this offer. I’m so tired. I’ve been running on empty for months. But I’ve made it this far. What kind of sense would it make to turn back now?
“No, I’m going to do it,” I say. “I can do this.”
Kerri squeezes my hand, searching my face. “All right.”
Originally the plan was for me to walk the red carpet, but I bow out of that. I don’t want my picture taken, and I don’t want to do any interviews. The FCC committee freaks out when Kerri tells them that Gigi isn’t coming. They pull us into a back room and create a game plan for what I’ll say when I accept the award for her. Brianne Thompson, the president of the FCC, advises, Just say something good. She’s tall and white with blunt blond bangs and a very serious demeanor.
Someone gets tasked with writing what I’ll read from the teleprompter, and I’m told to make it as personal as possible while reading. It sounds a little ironic, since the words won’t be coming from me.