A Moment of Truth: A Complete Bonus Set (A Matter of Trust #1-2)

by Q. T. Ruby

  He chuckles. “There is no back, miss. Everyone’s being dropped off here.”

  “Oh my God. I’m the lone loser!”

  Brad laughs hard.

  I lean back and roll my eyes. How can I possibly make my way down a red carpet without anyone noticing? Sprint? Ugh. Finally, it’s my turn to get out and march down the bright red carpet all alone. I more or less want to die. Brad stops, gets out, opens my door, and with an amused smile, gives me his hand. “Thanks, Brad.”

  He laughs. “You’ll be fine. Just walk fast.”

  “You think?” I take a whole new kind of walk of shame down the stupid red carpet. For God’s sake, I’m only here to talk with Dan, who may officially dump me in the end. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I mutter with each step, a standard smile plastered on. No one really takes my photo, because, of course, I’m not recognizable, which is normally fine, just not down a red carpet!

  I finally make it inside where I can safely hide in my seat, which is about halfway from the front, to the left, and against the wall. Soon enough, I’ll be blocked in. People begin filling in the seats all around me. I recognize some famous faces here and there, which would normally be pretty cool, but I’m anxiously waiting to set my eyes on Dan. Hopefully, I can pick up a vibe from him. I crane my neck around, searching.

  I gasp.

  There he is—Walking Perfection glides down the aisle with Len, who’s talking to him. Dan’s nodding. He’s in a midnight blue suit, which, strangely enough, almost matches my dress, a crisp white shirt, and bow tie. His hair’s a lighter blond now, which makes for a perfect contrast to the dark suit. He’s breathtaking. Effortlessly gorgeous. Mr. Beautiful. And he may or may not be mine.

  He walks down the aisle—closer, closer, right there—Hello! Hello! I want to shout, but then he passes by to get to his seat, not looking my way at all. I’m hoping it’s because he doesn’t know where I’m seated.

  Only a few minutes later, the director—crazy douchebag Sushman—introduces the movie and the cast, who stand and wave to the theater. I catch Dan’s eye, but there’s no reaction. Does he not see me? I wave a little, and he nods, but resumes his seat—no vibe, no nothing. I want to puke.

  The movie starts, and it’s going to be brutal to watch one hundred and twenty minutes of one hundred and twenty percent Adonis on screen. I just want this over with. All these days and hours of being twisted up inside, waiting. I need the Band-Aid ripped off, already! In fact, I’m finding myself growing a bit pissed off.

  The film is amazing, and I can understand why Dan wanted to do it. There are twists and turns no one expects—everyone gasps at the same moments, cries together at other moments, and we all wince during the fight scenes. Dan’s great. He’s somehow able to make me forget that we’ll be having a moment of truth in just a bit.

  At the end, the audience cheers and gives a standing ovation. My skin prickles with goosebumps at the energy—it’s incredible. It must feel so rewarding to be on the receiving end of it. I’m standing and clapping like everyone else, and the cast, including Dan, stand and nod in thanks. He glances my way again and his face blushes, but he promptly diverts his eyes. I’m losing any remaining confidence I had going into tonight.

  I look down at my stunning gown and wonder why I bothered to get dressed up just to be broken up with? It’s cruel, actually. My anger ratchets up a notch.

  People stand and begin to mill about, talking and slowly making their way to the rear of the theater. Dan escapes out a side door that’s quickly blocked by security once he departs. He can’t even say hello? What the hell?

  The place is packed, and getting out takes forever. There’s no one to talk to, and I feel so uncomfortable and out of place. I just want to go home. Eventually, I follow the herd outside and search the sea of limos for my driver, Brad. Great. He’s a million limos deep. Rather than wait, I make my way to him.

  “I would have picked you up at the door,” he says, opening the limo door for me.

  “I needed the walk.” I slide in, glad to be out of there. Let’s just do this.

  “How was the movie?” he asks, as we crawl along at the most agonizing pace.

  “Fine.”

  “Just fine? Sushman’s movies are always fantastic.”

  “I’m sorry. Yeah, it was. It was fantastic. I just have . . . things occupying my mind.” I sigh heavily and stare out the window.

  He nods, glancing at me through the rearview mirror. “Sometimes you just have to breathe deep and trust, you know? It’s all a matter of trust.”

  I grin. “Did my friend Camille call you?”

  He laughs one of those contagious laughs. “No, she didn’t. Why?”

  “That’s just something she would say to me.”

  “Well, I’ve got a knack for reading people.”

  “You sure do. So, where are we headed?”

  “Not sure, miss. I just have directions to follow.”

  We drive in silence for a long while, which makes me sleepy. My head bobs as I start nodding off, and as I begin to fall under sleep’s sweet spell, I think, I hope I don’t ruin my hair.

  “Miss . . . miss . . . Ms. Parelli. We’re here.”

  I blink and yawn. “Oh! I’m awake. I’m awake.” I sit up quickly and stretch my neck a bit. “Ooh. I think I kinked it.”

  Brad hops out and comes around to open my door. He holds his hand out to me, and I step out. Oh! The cliff! I should have known. I see a second limo—must be Dan’s. Is that someone inside the backseat? Must be Len. Ugh. He wouldn’t bring Len unless this was going to be over quickly.

  I’m sad and frustrated and angry that he’d bring me here of all places—our place—to end things. Then again, I suppose it’s fitting. End it away from the world, so I can scream and cry and make a scene and no one will hear or see it. I exhale and step off the road into the low-lying brush to rip off the Band-Aid once and for all.

  “You okay, miss? Do you know where you’re going?” Brad asks.

  “Yeah. I know exactly where I’m going.” I march across the uneven dirt, careful not to snap an ankle on the way. It’s chilly up here, but I’m heated enough to handle it. Finally, I round the corner, and Dan’s standing with his back to me, looking out over the ocean, with the moon and stars dangling in the sky. The scene is always breathtaking—straight out of a movie—but I can’t enjoy it tonight. Instead, I brace myself. “Hi.”

  I see Dan’s shoulders fall with a deep exhale. He turns slowly—ever so slowly—just like in Sushman’s movie. The bright light of the full moon illuminates his perfect face, highlighting his sculpted cheeks and jaw, and his are eyes glinting. He’s magazine ready to break up with me. Awesome. But his furrowed brows and tight jaw tell me he’s serious, and my heart’s beating so hard it’s making me nauseous.

  “Hi,” he says. He doesn’t move closer; he just stands there, staring at me for several awkward moments. “How’d you like the movie?” he finally says, tripping over his words a bit.

  Small talk? Seriously? “It was . . . very good. You made me forget you were you.” I’m factual, and I hope I’m concealing my fears, which are feasting on my insides.

  He nods and his face relaxes just a fraction. “Wow, thank you. That’s a pretty high compliment, especially from someone who knows me so well.” He pauses, seeming a little lost. “I’m really happy you were able to come.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Silence. The tension is thick, and I have no idea what to say. This is his court, and if he’s going to break up with me, I’m determined to stand strong for once. There’ll be no crying or running away. Nope. I’ll stand here and take it, defend myself, too, if need be.

  “You look . . . amazing.”

  What? I nod, and glance down at my dress, which dances in the light breeze. “Thank you.”

 
He rubs the back of his neck and glances down before he says, “I’ve never seen you look quite so beautiful.”

  What’s going on? Why’s he being so nice? To soften the blow maybe? A stronger breeze kicks up and makes me shiver.

  “Are you cold? I could give you my jacket.” He begins to take it off.

  “No. That’s okay. I’m fine.” I put my hands up, motioning for him to stop.

  He slides his jacket back on. “Right, right. Okay. Well . . .” He swallows and swipes the back of his neck again. “I guess I should say what I’m here to say then.”

  “Yeah, I guess you should,” I say, frustration clear in my voice.

  He seems a little taken aback. “I know the last two months have been . . . awful, really. No other words for it, especially the last couple of weeks.”

  I nod. No kidding! I want to shout, but my belly’s too queasy to speak.

  “Knowing you were going to go to dinner with Ian . . .” He sighs. “Was outright horrible, and given how it turned out, the guy’s lucky he’s in jail right now. Do you remember that girl I was with the night I punched him?”

  “Yes.” What, are you in love with her?

  “She told me she suspected he drugged her drink once, but she just couldn’t prove it. I’m grateful she was brave enough to tell the police. That got the ball rolling on getting him arrested.” He pauses, examining me with his eyes. “Did he hurt you?” he asks softly, like he’s afraid of my answer.

  “No. I’m okay. Waking up in the hospital was scary, since I didn’t know exactly what happened, but I’m very thankful the police showed up when they did.”

  He exhales deeply. “Me, too. I was, uh, pretty upset when I found out.”

  Our conversation is stilted, awkward even. He still hasn’t moved forward—neither have I for that matter. The distance. Shit. I knew these weeks would ruin things.

  “Anyway, enough of Ian . . . so between that and your dad’s party with Mark showing up—”

  “Again, I’m sorry about that. I had no idea he was coming.”

  “I know. You looked ill, actually. But I have to know—it’s something I’ve wondered since—did you have any feelings for him when you saw him?”

  “What?” I nearly shout. “Oh my God, no! Not at all.”

  “No pangs, nothing?”

  “No!”

  He nods, exhales, and glances down like he’s relieved. “I didn’t think so, but . . . I wondered.”

  I shake my head to clear my mind and gather my thoughts. “I haven’t thought about Mark in so long, so to see him that night was awkward and weird, to say the least. I used to wonder how I’d react to seeing him again, but it turned out it was like seeing a stranger—a familiar stranger, if that makes sense.”

  He nods and rubs the back of his neck once more. We fall silent again. He looks at his shiny black shoes, which he’s shuffling in the dirt. “I’m sorry—I’m just really nervous.”

  “Well, then just break up with me already!” I throw my hands up.

  His head snaps up and his eyes bulge. “What? Break up with you?”

  “Yeah. That’s why you brought me here, isn’t it? I mean, why else would you send me that impersonal note about meeting you and then hardly look at me all night? Plus, the way you left my dad’s party, and—”

  “Claire!” he says as if he’s shocked. He’s shaking his head.

  “Don’t shake your head at me. I’ve waited weeks to find out what’s going on with us, since you didn’t want to have any contact with me. Then tonight you see me at the theater and barely acknowledge me, and I should think something other than you want to end things? And stop your smiling. It isn’t funny.”

  He forces his smile down. “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to piss you off at all. If you only knew my level of nerves right now.”

  “What the hell are you so nervous about?”

  “Here goes,” he mumbles. He lets out a long breath, clears his throat, and says, “Do you remember that pink paper heart you gave me?”

  I blink at him in confusion. “What? Yes, but what does that have to do with—”

  He pulls it from his jacket pocket, perfectly intact. “I’ve kept very good care of this—as instructed—not that I needed instructions, mind you. Ever since you gave it to me, I’d often take it out to remind myself that you—beautiful you—gave this to me. And the day you gave me your heart like this, well, I felt honored. I felt like you finally trusted me with your heart—literally and figuratively. In fact, I’ve always felt so honored to be with you—that you allow me in, so to speak. I’m really lucky.”

  I’m about to speak when he continues.

  “Speaking of luck.” He pulls his four-leaf clover keychain from a different pocket. “Remember when you gave me this for my birthday? I already felt lucky that you trusted me to meet your family, but later that night when you said you felt lucky to have me in your life, well, my love, you have that backwards, and it’s time you know it. I know you may consider me young, and I suppose I am, but I’ve done a lot of living in that time. Before I met you, I was rather aimless. My career success wasn’t nearly as satisfying as I expected it to be, and things felt fake and empty.

  “So to answer your question, I brought you here because what you said to me at Christmas is exactly what I think, too—I often wonder if you’re real, if this relationship is real, because how could something so wonderfully perfect exist in a world that is so imperfect? Being with you has made everything clearer, sharper, happier. To say I’m lucky to have found you is more than an understatement. I’m thankful and amazed that you could love me, when frankly, there are so many reasons not to.”

  Not only am I speechless, but now I’m tearing up. Damn him. I’m shaking my head.

  “You wouldn’t allow me to shake my head before, so no shaking yours like that.” He chuckles. “And don’t talk either, because I’m on a roll, okay?”

  I nod quickly in response.

  He steps closer and closer until his toes are just about touching mine. His warm, sweet breath is on my face, and his soap-and-shaving-cream scent possesses me. Taking my hands, he smiles and continues. “And the necklace you’re wearing . . . I gave it to you to remind you that my love for you doesn’t diminish when we’re far apart; it doesn’t change in any way. In fact, after all these weeks apart, my love for you . . .” He exhales like he’s readying himself. “In all these weeks, one thing has become very clear to me.”

  There’s heat and electricity swirling around us, and I don’t mean the heat lightning streaking across the sky. My heart is hammering so hard, I’m unable to breathe. Perhaps this isn’t what I thought this was . . .

  “Claire, I don’t want to be your boyfriend anymore.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I gasp. “What?” Angry, I try to jump back, but he won’t let go of my hands.

  He’s got a smirk on his face. “No, no. No running.” He steps back slightly and begins to . . . kneel! I freeze.

  Holy shit!

  Holy shit!

  HOLY SHIT!

  He’s on one knee, still holding my hands, and smiling his million dollar Hollywood smile. I look around to see if cameras are lurking—is this for real?

  He laughs and jiggles my hands. “Here, down here. You need to look at me for this.”

  I blink, and slowly shift my wide, watery eyes to him. I’m so afraid this is a dream.

  “I don’t want to be your boyfriend any longer because I want to be your husband. Will you marry me?” His eyes sparkle with sincerity, and his voice cracks just a bit, like he’s as ready to burst apart as I am.

  I open my mouth to speak, but there is nothing. My brain is malfunctioning.

  He laughs. “The ground is pretty hard here, so an answer anytime soon would be nice. Save
a knee, save a tree . . . still working on my jokes.”

  The tears of sadness that were ready to fall transform into tears of joy. I nod vigorously. “Yes!” I finally shout.

  He stands and wraps his arms around me, lifting me up and twirling me around. When he finally places my feet back onto the ground, we embrace and kiss—gently, deeply. It’s the kind of kiss only possible in fairy tales—of the non-slut variety.

  He pulls back, reaches into his pants pocket, and presents me with a small, square jewelry box. I burst into tears. “You do realize that we’ve given one another lucky charms along the way this last year, right? Pink heart, green clover, stars and moons.”

  I burst with a gasp as realization hits me. “Oh my God, we have!”

  “It’s really funny, right? And, just so you know, I’ve done some research on them—”

  “Research?”

  “Yeah—on the Lucky Charms marshmallow shapes—and I was surprised how many shapes they’ve tried over the years. But of all of them, I thought this would be the best lucky charm—to complete the set.” Slowly, he creaks open the box. “A blue diamond.” And it’s honest-to-goodness blue. Cushion-cut and sparkling and deep and surrounded by tiny diamonds in an antique platinum setting. I’m in awe. “Do you like it?”

  I blink to clear the tears pooling in my eyes, while he pops the ring out of the box and gently slides it on my finger. It’s heavy and a bit loose, but stays on well enough. “Yes, yes. It’s beautiful.”

  “You are—beautiful, that is.”

  I fling my arms around his neck.

  “I cannot believe this—I came here thinking you were going to end things.” I break off and stare at my finger then at him then back at my finger.

  “Surprise!” he says, laughing. “It’s why I didn’t want to talk to you the last couple of weeks. I was afraid I’d give something away, and, fuck, I’ve been so nervous.” He wipes his brow, chuckling, seemingly relieved.