Page 108 of The Unfinished Line

“London certainly holds a special piece of my heart.” I offered him a broad smile as the flashbulbs continued to burst, creating a wall of chaotic light in every direction.

Somewhere behind us, by the rising decibel of the roar of the fans, I knew either Elliott or Grady had arrived. There was a certain magnetism that followed them—a kind of high voltage that electrified the crowd every time their names were announced.

It turned out to be Grady.

He smiled as he approached, and bent to kiss my cheek. “You look radiant, Kam. The true belle of the ball.”

It still seemed surreal, somehow, to find myself at one of the most anticipated movie premieres in the world, with my name tumbling off Grady Dunn’s tongue. Two days earlier, my mom had accompanied me to the Hollywood launch, and her bewilderment had nearly trumped my own.

“Pinch me, Kam,” she’d whispered when Julia Roberts walked by and asked me for a selfie. For once, I don’t think UCLA crossed her mind. Every time one of the screens towering above the entrance to the theatres rolled footage of me combating the elements of a cataclysmal winter or staving off scavengers in an apocalyptic wasteland, she squeezed my hand, gazing around us with a euphoric, glassy stare.

It had brought me a lot of joy, watching her grow starstruck posing for a photo with Margaret Gilles, and I’d laughed when her tanned cheeks had flushed floridly after Elliott made a point to introduce himself and kiss her hand.

For all of the differences we’d undergone over the past few years, I’d been undeniably grateful she was there. Her enthusiasm, her excitement, her unquestionable pride in being my mother had helped ground me when a moment began to feel too big to face on my own.

On the flight to London, I’d begun to second guess myself for having not asked her to come both nights. Her presence had felt so uncomplicated, so unobtrusive beside me.

It wasn’t the same with Carter.

Now, to be clear—he’d been nothing short of wonderful these last few months in which I’d engaged him to take on a role that wasn’t fair. I’d known it was selfish to ask for his help when our feelings for each other had been so convoluted for so many years. I knew he still loved me. But I also knew, despite the complexity of the situation, his ringside view of my relationship with Dillon had begun to help him find a closure we’d been lacking. No longer did he question any chance of our future. He knew I loved her in a way I hadn’t been able to love him.

But even with complete transparency, and the awareness we were both in on this with full disclosure, it didn’t wholly alleviate the awkwardness that arose.

As I left Grady to his interview, and rejoined Carter in my slow procession toward the Empire, I became acutely aware each time his hand rested at the small of my back, comfortable there from habit after so many years. And when we reached the step and repeat banner, posing for photos that would be viewed across the globe, I struggled to smile as he dutifully tucked me into the crook of his arm and kissed my temple, a familiar action he’d done so many times before.

The deception felt more stifling here, not because it was on display in front of the whole world, but because tonight I knew Dillon would be watching.

Yet even then, I couldn’t bring myself to regret inviting her. It mattered too much to me to have her there—to share firsthand with her this thing I’d helped create, this film I was so proud of. The same way she’d wanted me present to watch her cross the finish line in Leeds.

Finishing with the official photo op, I lingered outside the entrance to the theatre. Grady swept by, signing a handful of last minute autographs, and then disappeared into the privacy of the Empire. I knew I should follow suit. I’d spent more than enough time smiling for selfies and signing Addison Riley bobbleheads and plastic quarterstaffs. Tomorrow,Entertainment Weeklywould give me a five-star rating for my fan interactions. Not a kudos I’d intentionally been trying to earn. I just wasn’t ready to disappear inside yet. I was still listening to the names of the guests arriving.

Sir Ian McKellen. Helen Mirren. Harry Kane. Gordon Ramsay. Cate Blanchett. Dame Judi Dench. Princess Anne.

Sam Huntley.

There.

I paused with a sharpie hovered over an 8X10 print of me locking lips with Grady in front of a snowy backdrop. In my peripheral, I could see Sam making her way along the cordoned path. She was impossible to miss, dressed to the nines in an outlandish suit of fuchsia, pausing to take photos and banter with the crowd.

I turned further away but continued to watch in the reflection of a lens thrust in my face until Dillon appeared beside her. I knew it was her, not just by the unaffected stroll of her relaxed gait, or the flare of her white sailor pants Sam had convinced her were worthy of the red carpet, but because of the meteoric way my heart responded.

She had come, just as she’d promised.

With my breath still hitched, I scrawled my signature across the photo of me and Grady—nearly misspelling my name in the process—and made one final wave to the fans before turning my attention to navigating the stairs of the theatre, determined to survive the nosebleed height of my imbecilic choice in footwear.

Compared to the chaos of Leicester Square, it was quiet inside the theatre. Unlike my experience in Los Angeles, I felt calm, and even excited, about the unveiling of the European film launch. It seemed hard to believe after fourteen months of madness, that in less than twenty-four hours,Sand Seekerswould be viewed in cinemas across the world.

In a glowing review fromForbesfollowing the Hollywood debut, the business magazine predicted the film would have the highest-grossing weekend on record. The night before, on my flight to London, Aaron sent me a screenshot with the following sentence highlighted:

It was a five-star electric performance from newcomer Kameryn Kingsbury, who showed thrilling chemistry with Dunn and Fleming, making it impossible to pull your eyes from the screen.

And another, fromEntertainment Weekly:

Kingsbury proves she’s not just another pretty face, delivering a nuanced, riveting performance as the indisputable star of the most anticipated film of the decade.

Overcome with stress… relief… excitement… and the reality of it all coming to fruition, I’d pulled my hoodie over my head and cried half way across the Atlantic.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

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