The Beautiful Truth

☆☆ 152

There was probably no more appropriate or telling song—he couldn't figure out, though, if she was saying he was the one that "up and went" or if she was the one, but regardless, the Starting Line pretty much summed it up.

So many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to ask. He had five hours to do it and no idea how to go about it. All he could concentrate on was how much better he felt, having her next to him again. He was calm. He was whole. For the first time in almost a year and a half, his soul felt complete.

"Tell me about the movie," he said.

She smiled, almost sadly—the sunset off to her left, and her hair blowing wildly in the evening air. She took a shaky, deep breath, seeming to steel herself. "Well, I think I should probably start...before that. Back even before I showed up in Norman."

And she told him so much more than he thought she would. Sparing no detail, she started at the beginning—Talyn's visit to Cal, her conflicted feelings, feeling so guilty and relieved when nothing had changed when she got to that show on her break, and her self-hatred after his blow-out over, she now knew, Jason. How she finished her movie script after they'd broken up. And how his words had been what inspired her to go on and accept the offer from the studio to buy it. All the way up to his mom helping her get her dad and Amy Sawyer together again.

Of course his mom had helped. She loved Sawyer as her own, and had told him she'd been by the bar a few times, mostly with Amy, and that they'd talked about the movie. His mom was also a sucker for love—despite her own ill-fated marriage, she still believed in the stuff.

Barton wasn't so sure—if he couldn't make it work with Sawyer, he'd never be able to make it work at all, and it wasn't as if he believed there was only one person out there for everyone, but that he just didn't want to try it with anyone but her. She was the one. Nothing she'd just said or admitted changed his mind about that. He just had to figure out a way to get her to come back around.

When she was done talking about the movie, they were silent for a while. Not awkward, as before, but comfortable, like they had been...together.

"Tell me about the tour," she said carefully. And Barton knew she was afraid to ask because what she meant by 'the tour' was the same thing he'd meant by 'the movie' and that was 'the last year and a half.' She was afraid to ask, because she'd heard things—and seen things—and she knew hearing about some of these things would probably hurt, but she needed to know, or she'd never be able to move on.

Where Barton had the advantage though, was that Micki had filled him in, whether he wanted her to or not (he didn't), on all the details of Sawyer's romantic life over the last year and a half. He knew from Micki that Sawyer didn't want to know any of that stuff about him, or anything else, really, so he'd have to tell her things that he was afraid to admit.

Not that there were many girls. Three. None of them meant anything.

So he started with the night they'd finished the American tour, when Andy had left her tickets and he'd seen her in line for the show...and well, all the spiteful rest. He told her how he'd hated LA, and how he abhorred the bitter album he wrote there, and how he was sorry that he meant for every word to cut her, and that he was glad she hadn't listened to it.

"I did finally listen," she interrupted him to admit, a curious smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "A couple weeks ago. I was in your mom's bar and she...well, I think she usually made sure your music wasn't on the playlist when she knew I'd be coming in, but she missed one once. From the EP," she sighed. "Anyway, I told her to let it play. When that didn't kill me, I went home and finally listened to the record. And it was just as beautiful as anything else you've ever written. There's beauty in the truth, Barton Black. Believe that."

The truth.

The beautiful truth was that he loved her, and he always would. He didn't tell her as much—that would have been too much to reveal in a car speeding up the hot highway at 80 miles an hour on a Wednesday night after not speaking to a person for almost 18 months.

But he told her all about Canada, and Japan, and New Zealand, and Australia, and how he'd oftentimes wished she'd been there, too.

He paused to check her reaction after this admission. She was grinding her teeth. He knew that was how she kept her emotions in check. She didn't know he knew this, but he'd figured that out long ago.

"So we're taking a break," he finally concluded with a sharp exhale. "I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been a pleasant person to be around for a long time, so Michael's Mistress is officially on hiatus. Seth is going home to Santa Cruz for a while, I guess—I don't know, he's fine with being a drifter."

Sawyer forced a soft laugh across the console and he wanted to reach for her hand. That, or swim into her eyes.

"I guess Alex and Micki are married now, so they're taking over the house and—"

"Where are you gonna live?" Sawyer asked immediately.

He almost didn't want to say it. He was back now. He could feel it—maybe it would be possible, after tonight, to win her back. Maybe he and Sawyer could finally get back on track. He'd have to stick around, though.

"I'm moving to New York."

She hesitated. "For how long?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure yet."

"When?"

Again, he didn't want to say it. After all, he'd made this decision thinking he'd want to escape her when he got home to California. Alex was right, they'd done him a favor, setting up this serendipitous meeting, although now he was questioning everything.

"Saturday."