I gave them a kiss good-bye, took a deep breath and squared my shoulders. I knew Ash would probably be at the pre-party. The number and size of the bouncers guarding the door and demanding to see invitations attested to the VIP nature of the event. And Ash was the most VIP of VIPs.
With more strut than I truly felt, I walked into the party. I had no idea what would happen that night, but it felt good to be there on my own terms, for an honest reason. And who knew? I might get a moment to talk with Ash, find out what had been in that letter. My curiosity could have killed a room full of cats.
For a moment, I thought I saw him across the room, dressed all in black and dripping with models. But that turned out to be John Mayer. I looked away quickly, tucking my hair behind my ear, hoping he hadn’t seen me checking him out.
Then I found Ash. He stood facing away and talking to another guy. There were a few women with their eyes on him, but that described every waking moment of his life. No one hung from his arm.
Then he looked up and right over at me. My breath caught in my throat. He was so impossibly handsome, clean-shaven in a white jacket. He still had that somewhat rumpled look, the casual sexiness that made him world-famous, but he looked older, somehow. Less posturing, more rugged. Impossible to resist. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to come after all.
I thought about ducking away, but I didn’t. He drew me like metal to a magnet. I’m just glad I didn’t trip on anything as I made my way over to him in the room. I certainly wasn’t aware of my surroundings. He mesmerized me.
I think he said my name. I might have managed to say his. We may have said hello, but maybe not. People talked around us, to us, but I couldn’t have told you a damn thing any of them said. I could tell you the color of Ash’s eyes, such a warm, deep brown they looked like melted dark chocolate. Then he held out his hand. I took it in mine.
Ash. God, I’d missed him. The grasp of his warm, calloused hand, the warmth of his body, the feel of his tall, solid presence by my side. We didn’t have privacy, none at all, so we couldn’t exactly talk. But there with him, I wondered if we needed to. Standing with him, holding hands, that’s where I belonged. I could feel it with such certainty. You didn’t need to talk about the sky looking blue on a sunny day. It just was and everyone knew it.
With camera flashes and hustling and bustling, we were ushered away and out onto the red carpet to make our official entrance. I was not red carpet ready. No stylists had groomed me, no makeup artists had had their way with me, but Ash wrapped his arm around my waist, hugged me to him, and it didn’t so much matter.
He led me down to a seat next to his. I didn’t know if that was the one I’d been assigned to, but I figured no one would argue with Ash. What he got he wanted. He was nominated more than any other artist that night. He kept my hand wrapped in his, tight, as we sat down.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” He spoke in hushed tones, almost reverent, and leaned into me.
“I can’t believe it, either,” I admitted.
“Did you think about not coming?”
“A little.” I paused. It wasn’t the right time to have a serious conversation, not when we were surrounded by every famous singer I could think of and then a whole bunch more I didn’t recognize but could tell I would if I paid more attention to celebrities. But I couldn’t wait for exactly the right moment. It might never come.
Leaning in closer, I whispered, “Ash, I never got your letter. Back in January.”
“You never got it?” he asked, confused.
I shook my head no. “I never knew you sent it. My roommates just told me a couple days ago that they burned it.”
“Burned it?” He pulled back, looking at me as if to check if he’d heard correctly.
“I know. It’s crazy.”
“They burned it,” he repeated, clearly having trouble comprehending. I still didn’t fully understand it, either, but that wasn’t the point. The point was what had been in it?
“So, I don’t know what you said in it.” I looked at him with probably too much eagerness showing in my face. How awkward would it be if he told me that the letter was about the fact that I still had his favorite pair of socks? And knowing my luck, a cameraman would probably swing his huge lens around and zoom in right when my eyes filled with tears. But I had to take the chance, right then in the front row of a live broadcast awards show. I didn’t know when or if I’d have the chance again.
“You know what I said in it. You’ve heard the song.” He looked down at me, his eyes so warm on mine, his body leaning in so close I could feel his breath on my neck as he whispered my name.
“Ana, I love you.” He caressed my cheek, swept his fingers under my chin. I swayed into his touch. It felt so good, after all those months, exactly what I’d been craving every day and every night.
Clicks and flashes rose from all around us, capturing us, capturing celebrities. We couldn’t be in a more exposed setting. But I didn’t feel it. It felt like just me and Ash, finally. Alone together in the middle of all the craziness.
“I’m no good without you, Anika,” he murmured in my ear, his hand weaving its way into my hair. “Without you, I come undone.”
I was glad, then, that I hadn’t had a stylist preparing me for my appearance that night. It was much better this way, with my hair loose and natural. Then Ash could weave his fingers through my hair, touch me, caress me, and I leaned into his hand, my eyes fluttering closed.
Then applause rose from all around us, snapping even the two of us from our world together, as the show began. Huge name after even huger name walked across the stage, some looking great in person, others one Botox shot shy of becoming a plastic doll.
Then came the first category Ash was nominated for, and he won. Then the next, which he won as well. By the fourth time he won, he tugged my hand.
“Come on.” He grinned at me.
“No! I—” But he pulled and I followed and before I knew it, we were both up on stage accepting the award for Top 100 Song.
; “She’s the reason for this!” Ash declared, holding up the award with one hand, clasping my hand in his other. “She’s my inspiration. She’s the genius behind the song.” Looking at me, he added. “This is for you. Thank you, Ana.”
I couldn’t manage a word. My eyes filled with tears and I think I was able to smile and wave a bit at the massive attack of applause. If I’d had my wits about me, I suppose I could have grabbed the mic and thanked my parents. That would have been nice. But as it was, I could barely manage to stand upright. I’d have to thank them later.
The rest of the show passed in a blur. Ash won a couple more times, giddy with winning, starting to get random in his thank-yous, going on a tangent about his younger brother and how much he loved him. I felt so proud, so happy to see him getting such praise for such a risky departure. That song had been nothing like what he’d done in the past, open and raw and real. A fresh start for him. Maybe for us?
Somehow, I found my parents after the show. Ash and I never stopped holding hands, which made it more difficult. To say he was mobbed would be a massive understatement. Everyone wanted a piece of him, a picture, a glimpse at the star of the evening. But he insisted on sharing it all with me. And then he pulled my mom and dad in for a few photos.
“Oh, my!” My mother patted her hair and pulled herself up to her full five foot two inches. My father smiled as wide and proud as I’d ever seen him. I even caught him wiping a tear from his eye.
“I’m sorry I didn’t thank you when I was up on stage,” I managed to say before I started crying a little, too.
“Och, don’t be silly.” My father brushed away my apology.
“All those piano lessons you drove me to.” My voice broke and my mother caught me up in a big hug.
“I’d drive you to a thousand more,” she assured me, giving me a plump kiss on my cheek. “Now stop making me cry. And go have a nice time with this big rock star of yours.”