Page 150 of Merry Me
Through the explosion of his career. Through the miles. Through every single excuse I’d hidden behind.
Come find me under our stars.
The words weren’t just sweet. They were a challenge. A promise. A plea.
And I was ready to accept it.
He was in L.A., filming, living in that shiny world I’d always felt too small for. But he’d left this—this beautiful, quiet, perfect gift—just to show me that the most important part of his life wasn’t on set or behind a camera.
It wasme.
And I wasn’t going to make him wait another second to know I felt the same.
I didn’t want to wait a week. I didn’t even want to wait a day.
I wanted to go to him. To stand under our stars and tell him I loved him. That I was his. Entirely. Eternally.
I wanted to propose tohim. To ask him to be mine, forever. To build the life we’d whispered about under summer skies, young and in love and dreaming way too big.
I stood slowly, my hands still trembling as I clasped the necklace around my neck.
The pendant settled just above my heart, the weight of it somehow comforting…like he was already with me.
I wiped the tears from my cheeks, drew in a deep breath, and grabbed my phone.
The screen glowed softly in the fading light as I pulled up the airline app, fingers hovering.
Los Angeles.
I typed it in without hesitating.
Because I wasn’t running anymore.
I was chasing.
Chasinghim. Chasingus.
And this time, I wasn’t going to stop.
CHAPTER 30
EASTON
The studio lights were still brutal.
Hot, relentless, and way too close. They beat down on the soundstage like twin suns, turning the space into a makeshift furnace.
Fake rain fell from the sprinkler rig above, soaking through my costume and plastering my drenched button-up to my skin. It clung to me like a second layer—cold and slick—while the heat from the lights made sweat bead along my brow and trail down my spine.
December in California meant the air outside was crisp, even cool. But inside, under this synthetic storm and those scorching lights, the contrast was maddening. I was freezing and sweating all at once. Wet, uncomfortable, and barely present.
We were reshooting one of the film’s biggest scenes—the big emotional climax.
The one where my character confesses everything in the pouring rain. His love. His regrets. The whole heart-on-his-sleeve moment that was supposed to leave the audience breathless.
Paul, our director, wasn’t convinced it was working.
“More raw emotion!” he shouted through his megaphone, hisvoice slicing through the low hum of the crew like a whip. “You’re inlove, Easton. I need tofeelit.”
