Page 54 of Wildest Dreams

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The next few weeks pass by in a blur. I spend as much time as possible with Pierre and sleep with him every night at the house. I even move my clothes there, repopulating the massive walk-in closet with the intention of staying even after he’s gone.

Marina continues to leave Pierre alone, and though we see her out a few times, her venom is limited to dirty looks and snide comments to whoever she’s with. Even the locals ignore us, as if running into a movie star at the local watering hole is a normal thing now.

Pierre and I do everything together, from grocery shopping to beers at Cattywampus to back porch sitting to watching murder shows on Netflix. Turns out he’s a closet true crime junkie, too.

On July Fourth, the town has a big celebration in a park by the river. Food trucks come out, there’s a live band, and fireworks are shot off from the bridge over the Florablanca River.

Pierre and I join Patsy and Garion on their pontoon boat with their kids to watch the fireworks from the water. Garion and Pierre get along well, and watching Pierre with the boys is so sweet it makes my ovaries explode. At this point, I think he would at least consider staying if I asked him to. He would walk away from his multi-million-dollar career and leave California to be with me if “will you stay” comes out of my mouth, but I can’t say the words. I can’t ask him to leave all of that behind. I tell myself that if he offers to stay, I’ll say yes and that I want him to, but I won’t go far enough to ask him.

He never offers.

PIERRE

Filming finally wraps onGossamer Road. I have no idea if this movie is any good. I worry that the tension between Marina and me may have ruined our on-screen chemistry, but Belladonna seems happy with the result. Now I have to trust that the editing team will piece together something decent.

At least I don’t have to see Marina until it’s time to promote the film next year.

I push those worries to the back of my mind. Right now, I’m devastated to leave Magnolia Row. The thought of waking up in Bel Air without Kendall makes me sick to my stomach. I want to ask her if she would like me to stay, but I’m too afraid of the answer. Throughout our whole relationship, she’s stressed that she only wants this to be short-term. She has been very clear on that point, and the last thing I want to do is put that kind of pressure on her and end on an awkward note.

In anticipation of leaving, I want to get her something to remember me by. She’s not into fancy jewelry, but I did find a seller on Etsy to make a custom silver alligator necklace, which I plan to give her tonight on our last night together.

I call Harriett to make sure she remembers to pick me up from the airport tomorrow evening.

“Of course I remember,” she says. “I booked the flight.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You sound down.”

“It’s my last night with Kendall.”

“Oh boy. You’ll be okay. Besides, she can always come see you in Cali.”

“No, she’s been very clear that tonight is it.”

“Don’t let her see you cry. I know how you get.”

I nod as if she could see me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harriett.”

“Text me when you’re taking off.”

“I will.”

I plan the final evening meticulously. Patsy takes Kendall to get her hair cut and nails done. While she’s gone, I fill the house with candles and roses, though I did not buy every single flower in town this time. Her necklace is in a pink box with a white ribbon on the bedroom dresser. I even make a playlist of the Taylor Swift songs I know she loves.

I shower before Kendall gets home, and when she walks in, I’m waiting for her with a glass of Prosecco. I squeeze her tight and kiss her as deeply as I did on our first night together. When we unlock our lips, she’s breathless and starry-eyed.

“I still have to remind myself this has all been real,” she says.

“It’s the most real thing I’ve ever experienced,” I tell her.

She keeps me company in the kitchen as I cook filet mignon, baked asparagus, roasted potatoes, and garlic bread.

“Are you trying to put me in a food coma?” she asks.

“No, I’m just showing off,” I tell her.

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