Page 121 of One Little Lie
“Oh, Halton. It’s cute you think we can control her. The second she found out you were making your move, she sat her ass in the truck and waited for someone to drive her to the airport.”
This crazy old bat. I smile as she approaches.
“There he is. My Fibby. I’m proud of ya. But just in case you pass out before you get your girl, I made you these.”
She hands me a plate piled high with Rylan’s favorite coconut cookies.
“You’ve got this, Fibby. I believe in you. Deep breaths. Trust your love to get you through this, and you’ll be just fine.”
“HEA. Five-minute warning to the HEA.”
My eyes go wide, and I feel the sweat trickle down my spine. That’s my five-minute warning to showtime.
* * *
Rylan
The air is electric. I’m running from one side of the stage to the other, then back again to capture each shot. Nova’s show has been spectacular. From the clothing to the models to every choreographed detail of the art presentation I’m photographing. It’s nothing short of amazing.
The constant gasps and oohs that fill the air is a testament to the work she’s put in. I have no doubt Nova is about to become a household name. And, by proxy, my work will be displayed literally everywhere.
My chest aches when I realize the one person I want to share this moment with isn’t here. I don’t regret pushing him away. He would have ruined himself to be here for me, but I never would have been able to forgive myself if he had. Instead, I focus my attention back on the project at hand.
Nova has me freaked out a little about her surprise ending. It’s not common for it to be so secretive. I just hope I have the right angles to capture the essence of whatever she has up her sleeve.
The room fades to black, and I haul ass to the top of the catwalk. Whatever she has planned, she wants me ready to shoot from the top when the lights come back up. I’m out of breath and rushing to get set up for the shot by the time I’m in position.
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
What the fuck?That’s my voice on the speaker.
“All you had to do was stay,” Taylor Swift sings.
My head is on a swivel in the pitch black.What the hell is going on?
Lights flicker, and I lift my gaze to the jumbo screens on either side of the stage. It’s a video of me when I was thirteen.
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
“All you had to do was stay.”
My voice alternates with the Taylor Swift song, then I hear him.
“Halcyon.”
The screen flashes, and a picture I took as a teenager appears.
“All you had to do was stay.”
“Give me a word, Hatty?”
The other screen flickers to life, and it’s Hatty’s charcoal version of my photo. I’m lightheaded as the words keep coming, paired with photographs and drawings.
“Dulcet.”
“Lilt.”
“Mellifluous.”
