The Beautiful Truth

// 149

I didn't want to stop staring at him, but I had to. I had managed to keep my voice from breaking when he'd finally spoken to me for the first time in a year and a half, but looking over that body I had loved so much would surely do me in. How I was going to last an entire car-ride back from LA without breaking down was beyond me.

Figure it out as I went along, I supposed. That was pretty much the way of my life these days, anyway, right?

"So...I'm guessing there's no meeting with the label. You want a ride back to Berkeley?" I asked, not knowing where else to start. Who knows what excuse they'd given him to get him to fly into LAX...and trap him in a car with me for the drive home.

Barton Black's face broke into a huge grin. He held my gaze for a second or two, then bashfully looked at the floor. "Sure," he agreed, looking back up at me. "Let me grab my suitcase."

I nodded, gritting my teeth together. Why did he smile at me? I couldn't work out what it meant or how I was supposed to feel right now.

"What do you drive nowadays, anyway?" he asked as we walked slowly to the baggage claim assigned to his flight.

"Convertible beamer," I shrugged. He didn't need to know all the details that lead up to me coming into possession of that car.

"You buy that with your movie money?" he asked off-handedly.

"Something like that," I answered vaguely, trying to gauge just how much Micki had told him.

Of course knowing Micki, and Alex, and Barton Black, he knew exactly everything about everything—including the fact that my dad had bought out the lease on my car when I suddenly moved back to Berkeley the summer after he and I broke up...but he wasn't going to admit it.

"How was Australia?" I asked, my eyes searching for anywhere to land but on him.

Next to me Barton laughed softly, mumbling, "how was Australia. Jesus Christ, listen to us."

I turned to look at him and pressed my lips together, not knowing how to respond.

He closed his eyes and opened them after a long beat. "I—Sawyer, give me a second to wrap my head around this."

Confused, but not really, I watched him walk a ways around the baggage belt and pull out his phone. I shook my head and pulled out mine.

'Fuck you.' I texted Micki. 'Wherever you and boy sunshine are right now, I hope you're fucking happy. I'd like to say I can't believe you did this to me, but I should have known. Fuck. You.'

What I got back was a picture of a diamond ring and a wedding band on Micki's left hand, captioned simply 'Vegas baby!'

Oh good lord.