Surprised he wanted to work with me again? I’m not. The Lament did fucking brilliantly. We smashed it at the box office.
I look up at the stage where Natasha and Gabriel are standing, waiting to present the award to the winner, which they’re going to announce at any moment now.
I mean, they’re two of my closest friends. It has to be me. It’s fate.
Right?
Please, God, let it be me. I’ll stop cursing so much if I win this. Not altogether, of course, because that would be near on fucking impossible.
My heart is beating so hard in my chest, it feels like I’m going to crack a rib.
I haven’t been this nervous since I stood up at the altar, waiting for Charly to appear and walk toward me.
Thank fuck she did.
I rub my thumb over her engagement and wedding ring.
She squeezes my hand. I glance at her.
Her look is encouraging. You got this baby, her eyes are saying.
I pray to God that I do. Because I’ll suck at being a gracious loser. I’m not that good of an actor.
“And the Oscar goes to…” Natasha opens the envelope.
She smiles and shows it to Gabriel.
He grins. And looks at me.
Did he look at me? Or did I just imagine that?
For fuck’s sake, just say who the winner is, or I’m going to—
“Vaughn West!” he yells into the microphone.
Holy…fuck!
I won!
I motherfucking won! Sorry, God.
But I’m an Oscar-winning actor.
An. Oscar-winning. Actor.
I close my eyes in sweet relief, happiness coursing through my body. The audience is clapping loudly all around me. I feel someone pat my shoulder from behind.
Charly is cheering and nearly squeezing my hand off.
I look at her and grin. She grabs my face in her hands and smashes her lips to mine, kissing me hard.
I get to my feet, hugging Brandon and my costar Jensen Fletcher.
“Well done, man,” Jensen says in my ear. “You fucking deserve this.”
I head to the stage, jogging up the steps.
Gabe hugs me first. “You did it, West, you fucker.” He chuckles in my ear.
Natasha throws her arms around me. “I’m so happy for you!”
They step back, and I walk to the podium. I’m smiling like the Joker right now. My peers are still on their feet, clapping.
“Jesus, I’m feeling like I might cry here,” I joke—well, only half-joke. “And you can ask my wife, I don’t cry often. Only after sex.”
I get the laugh I was after. I look at Charly fighting a smile, shaking her head at me.
I stare down at the gold statue in my hand, shaking my head in disbelief. Then, I stand the gold statue on the podium in front of me.
“But, seriously, I’m man enough to admit that I’ve cried in my lifetime. Twice, in fact. The first time was when that beautiful woman sitting there agreed to be my wife. And the second was the day she told me she was pregnant with our child.”
Smiling up at me, her eyes shining, Charly rubs her hand over her huge bump where my son is sleeping soundly.
“And my third time crying will, without a doubt, be when I’ve drunk too much liquor, and it finally hits me that I’ve won an Oscar. I have to thank Brandon for trusting me enough to work on a second film with me. And my incredibly talented costar Jensen Fletcher. Thank you to my manager, Jack, who has been through thick and thin with me. My family—Mom and Dad, my sisters, and Gran—I love you all very much. Alex, my long-suffering assistant, whom I couldn’t get through a day without, and if I did, I’d probably do it without any pants on.”
The audience laughs again. I can see Alex sitting behind Charly, shaking his head at me.
“And, of course, my wife. My gorgeous, stunning wife, Charly.”
I look right at her. I can see her eyes glistening with tears. In this moment, no one else exists, except for her.
“Pins, we got off to a crazy start. After the stabbing incident, you made me a stellar piece of underwear, and then you yelled at me and called me a few choice words. I kissed you to shut you up, and I’ve been lucky enough to keep kissing you ever since. I love you. I literally couldn’t do any of this without you. You’re my strength, my heart, and my soul. No one—and I mean, no one—can make me laugh like you do. My life was good before you. Now, it’s beyond amazing. This”—I pick the Oscar up, lifting it high—“is for you and our unborn son.”
I look out to the audience. “Thank you, everyone, and good night.”
I step off the stage, and a glass of champagne is put in my hand.
“Congratulations,” the guy says.
“Thanks.”
I take a sip. Taking it all in, I look at the gold statue again.
I did it.
A minute later, I’m ushered out of the Dolby Theatre and into the adjoining Loews Hollywood Hotel where I do photographs and press.