Page 84 of Beautifully Scarred

“I’m so proud of you, babe.” I lean in and cup her face.

I don’t fucking care if Tripp’s here. It takes a lot to lay yourself out like that, and the fact that she can even talk about her past with Tripp here, when she wouldn’t discuss itat allbefore, shows me the progress she’s making. I kiss her softly, letting the love I have for the strongest woman I’ve ever known pour through me and into her, willing her to feel it too.

The sound of a chair scraping across the deck draws our attention. Tripp’s risen from his chair and comes around to her other side, reaching for Lilah’s hand and helping her up. He pulls her into a tight hug. Something about that act undoes Lilah, because she sobs into his chest.

He rubs her back and rocks her. “I’m happy you’re working to get better. I know how much James cares about you.” He pulls back and holds her out from him by the shoulders. “Anything I ever said to you was out of concern for him, but I have to apologize too. There are times that I said some things that were way offside. Why don’t we start fresh from this point forward?”

She nods, and they share another hug.

Christ, so much weight lifts from me that I think I could fly. Everything is coming together in my life. I have a movie that’s going to change my career, the woman I’ve loved forever is finally healthy and committed to sobriety, and my best friend made amends with her.

That “anything is possible” sensation fills me just like the day Lilah and I first walked Santa Monica Pier. Life only gets better from here.

Chapter Thirty-eight

LILAH

My mascara wand shakes as I raise it to my eyelashes. “Shit.”

I place my hands on the counter and stare at myself through the mirror. I can do this. If I need to leave at any time, I can. If it becomes too much, Jimmy will understand.

The pressure of accompanying Jimmy down the red carpet, effectively announcing our relationship to the world, builds. I would rather not face all the people in the industry who know, or think they know, what I’ve been through. I’m not naïve enough to think my name wasn’t splashed all over the press after my overdose. Not when Jimmy ran out of the awards show party.

Jimmy and I have gone out to eat locally a few times, but this will be the first time I’ve been around alcohol since the night of the overdose. With triggers all around me and easy access, I’m testing an atomic bomb.

The proximity to the stuff shouldn’t matter since I ebb and flow all day, every day between wanting a drink and getting by without one.

“There.” I put my mascara back in my makeup bag and survey myself. Not bad. My hair is pulled back in a loose bun, and I’ve opted for a simple cat eye with red lips.

Jimmy offered to have someone come and get me ready, but I insisted on doing it myself. I didn’t want to make small talk, knowing I’d already be nervous.

I step out of the bathroom and into the walk-in closet to slip on my dress. We went shopping in Beverly Hills last week and found me a red-and-ivory Monique Lhuillier gown. I’ve been lucky enough to wear a lot of designer clothes over the years, but nothing has made me feel more like a beautiful princess than this one. Something I never felt when I was using, no matter how great my makeup looked or what designer I wore.

I step into the gown and pull the zipper up as high as I can, then I step into my silver heels before leaving the closet. “Can you do my zipper the rest of the way?”

Jimmy’s hands fall from his bow tie, his mouth hanging open. I can only compare it to what a child might look like spotting Santa Claus—complete wonder and awe.

“Do I look okay?” I ask, self-consciousness creeping in.

He steps forward until we’re inches apart and cups my face. I lean into his warm touch and close my eyes.

“You look stunning,” he says, his voice soft and chock-full of emotion.

I slowly open my eyes, and they lock with Jimmy’s. Old habits die hard though. I want to look away from the intensity in his eyes, so I force myself to hold his gaze.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“I mean it. You’re a vision.” His thumb traces over my cheek, sending shivers down my spine.

“You’re really laying it on thick tonight.” A nervous laugh escapes me.

“Don’t do that.” A crease forms on his forehead. “Don’t push the compliment away because it makes you uncomfortable.”

I wrap my arms around his neck. “It’s still hard to hear good things about myself, let alone believe them.”

“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “But you need to work on it because I’m going to be saying those things to you for eternity.”

A warm awareness spreads through my chest, and I smile. His hands snake around my waist, and he slowly raises my zipper the rest of the way.

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