Elastic Hearts (Hearts #3)(31)

When he didn’t respond for a couple beats and I didn’t see the little cloud with dots that said he was responding, I put the phone on my lap and went back to looking around at the stars, so many of which I’d dressed. I said hi and caught up with some of them as they walked by and introduced them to Deborah, who was the ultimate fan, which I loved. The magic was still shiny in her eyes. Not that it wasn’t in mine. It was hard not to be affected by the atmosphere at an event like this, no matter how many times you’d been.

My phone buzzed again, and I jolted a little, turning it over.

V: Stop tempting me.

I smiled.

Me: I didn’t realize you were tempted. You seem to be practicing control rather well.

V: Control? You’re succeeding in breaking me down.

Me: Good ;-)

V: Are you wearing anything under that dress?

The words made me shiver. I closed my eyes momentarily, picturing his deep-hazel eyes looking into mine as he said those words.

Me: Are you trying to sext with me? I’m sober. I don’t sober sext.

V: I don’t sext at all. I’d much rather spend my energy f*cking.

I swallowed and took a sip of water, suddenly feeling very thirsty, and very hot.

“Hey, did you see Macie?” Gabe asked. I jumped at the sound of his voice and the mention of his current film director, and hid my phone again. He gave me a questioning look, but didn’t comment. Macie was his current producer. “She said she’s gotten good comments about us being together at the premiere the other day.”

“Good. That’s what I’m here for,” I said, setting my glass of water back down.

“Thanks for doing this,” he said, reaching for my hand over the table.

Trying to play the part, I smiled, though it was small, sad, and fleeting. My phone vibrated on my lap again, but I ignored it. I would have to ignore it for the rest of the night if I was going to stay sane, then I would read all the texts and kick Victor’s ass for thinking it was a smart idea to send them in the first place. If this was how he wanted to get a response from me, I was already starting to miss un-communicative Victor.

Gabe’s hand squeezed mine tightly and snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced up at him and realized we were about to be the butt of the joke the host was telling.

“I mean, if a divorce is how I’m going to get my wife to screw me again, I’m going to go file tomorrow,” the host said. The crowd made all sorts of sounds and shook their heads. I was sure the camera was zooming in on Gabe’s and my faces, so I fake-smiled and fake-laughed, when all I really wanted to do was hide my face inside Gabe’s jacket. The evening continued on, champagne was poured, beer and wine were served. I touched nothing. Gabe touched my hand, my thigh. I wanted to punch his perfect veneers.

“Please stop touching me,” I said through my teeth.

“I’m not drinking tonight, so my nerves are shot. I need something to touch so I don’t lose it,” he said with a laugh as he leaned into me.

“I swear to God, Gabriel, if you don’t stop, I will lose it. I will go to the bathroom and pull a Britney in the middle of your acceptance speech.”

He reared back a little, but left his hand on top of the fist I’d made with mine. “You really think I’ll win?”

I sighed, shaking my head, my lips curling into a small, albeit real smile. “I know you will.”

The first category was announced and we had to clap for the nominees and the winner. Again and again it continued until it was Best Performance by an Actor in a Supporting Role. I held my breath as Hannah, the presenting actress, read each nominee’s name. Gabe was sitting beside me, looking like he wasn’t fazed by any of it, but I knew he was freaking out. I was freaking the hell out.

“Oh my word,” his mom said beside me when Gabe’s name was read. I smiled, glancing at her with an I know smile on my face.

“The Golden Globe goes to . . .” talk about dramatic pause as she opened the envelope. I leaned forward in my seat. Gabe leaned forward in his seat. Everybody in our table was seemingly holding their breath. “Gabriel Lane in The Man Who Could Not Speak.”

There was no way to contain my happiness for him. There was no way to mask the pride I felt. Everybody in our table stood as we clapped for him, and as he stood he turned to me, grabbed my face with both hands, and kissed me. He kissed me the way he kissed me on our wedding day. My heart did a little jump, but as he let go of my face and turned to kiss his mother on the cheek, and hug his costars, I remembered where we stood, and I wouldn’t waver. Still, it was his moment. It felt like our moment. Like that gold statue should have shared custody. I’d been there for him when he filmed that movie. I’d been the one holding his head out of the toilet and cleaning up his mess. I’d been the one putting up with his rage the nights he came home when takes hadn’t gone the way he’d wanted. I’d been the one who’d agreed to help fund the film when they’d thought they wouldn’t be able to finish it.

Of course nobody would know any of that. It was our secret and ours alone, and I was okay with that. I’d never been in our relationship for the limelight.

He walked to the stage and smiled as everybody cheered, and he started thanking people. He thanked me for being there for him, and believing in the film, his mother for everything, yadda yadda yadda. The longer I watched him, the less I wanted to be there. It was as if the reel became focused on the screen in my head and suddenly I saw the full, clear picture. I realized that he was an actor, and I was just another observer in his life. When it hit me, I reached into my purse and took out my phone. The last text message Victor had sent said to meet him in his office at seven o’clock sharp. I frowned, but put my phone away and willed for the rest of the show to be over. When it was, Gabriel was as busy as I knew he would be.