Dirty Professor (35 page)

Cameras may have been absent from inside the theater, but it still felt like all eyes were on me. I roamed the halls as inconspicuously as I could, looking for Leo. I didn’t see him anywhere, but I got lots of side-eye from the other guests.

“Do you know who that is?” one woman said as I passed. “It’s
her
.”

I tried to keep my chin up and not break into horrific sobs. I didn’t see Leo anywhere—not even Elaine or any of his other assistants. I wondered what I thought I’d say when I saw him. When it was time to take my seat—thankfully on the aisle, where I could make a quick getaway if needed—it was clear he wasn’t there at all.

That was like the final blow to my heart, and it just cracked open.

He knew me well enough to know that I’d be expecting to see him there, but he didn’t respect me enough to even show up.

He truly despised me.

I took deep breaths as the house lights went down and the opening credits began. Tears were already dripping down my cheeks and nothing had even happened yet.

I braced myself for the worst two hours of my life.

I told myself I would sit there through the whole thing, no matter how painful or humiliating. It was the least I could do—it would be my final way of apologizing to Leo for all that I’d done. After this, I was done, debt paid.

I was a bundle of nerves as the first scenes began. It was strange seeing some actress version of me on a giant screen, but soon I was lost in the story, fascinated at how it all played out. The film was from the man’s perspective—in the movie, his name was Martin—and focused on his fight to become a huge success at such a young age, and the constant pressure to stay at the top while everyone waited for him to fail. With every success the stakes became higher, until Martin thought he would crack.

Sylvia entered the picture for the first time when “Martin” went to what he thought was just another painfully dull audition. Her honesty and light-heartedness helped soften Martin’s steely exterior.

It’s safe to say I was on the verge of total breakdown crying throughout most of the movie. I did my best to hold it together because it was a truly beautiful film. Wonderfully acted, shot like a dream, painfully honest. Frankly, it was just the kind of movie I would have loved anyway, even if it hadn’t been based on my life.

As I braced myself for the ending—where Sylvia turns evil and crushes Martin’s soul—I realized slowly that such a revelation wasn’t ever going to occur.

Instead, what I watched onscreen was Leo’s character give Sylvia an impassioned speech about how he blamed himself for losing the best thing that ever happened to him.

In fact, this one scene was the only truly made up moment in the whole film. It happened in the same location as the dreadful premier night when my true identity had been exposed, when we’d been alone together and I’d tried to apologize to Leo, only for him to shut down and shut me out.

But in this fictional version of our story, Leo was the one who truly opened up.

“You pushed me to let my guard down, to believe in love and all its great possibilities,” Martin told Sylvia in the film. “But I couldn’t listen. I wouldn’t let myself. I kept my armor on even in our most intimate moments when all I wanted was to tell you everything, how incredible I felt when I was with you and how I wanted to change to be better for you—because that’s what you truly deserved. But I held myself back, never saying my truth, and so I lived a lie. But not anymore,” Martin said. “I love you, Sylvia. I love you so much but I was too much of a coward to admit it to you. Not anymore. Not ever again.”

He embraced her as tears ran down Sylvia’s face, and kissed her passionately. He pulled back to look closely into her eyes. “I love you, Sylvia. Now until the end.”

I didn’t even notice the credits running, my face wet with tears, and I was openly sobbing, as the audience stood and applauded. Somehow Leo had put in the very thing I’d wished and wished had happened that night.

Maybe he really did know how to torture me so cruelly, because changing that one scene was almost too much for me to bear. I’d rather he painted me a villain than shown me such a vivid version of what might have been.

An extra roar of applause erupted from the audience as the house lights came up, and I turned to see what people were looking at.

And then I saw
him
.

Leo.

He was real, and he was there, walking down the aisle in yet another perfectly-fitted suit looking painfully beautiful. I searched his eyes for compassion and love and anything good. All I could feel was the tears on my face and the instinct to run to him, but knowing he wasn’t mine to run to. As he got closer to my aisle, I realized he carried a large bouquet of red roses, probably for the lead actress.

But he stopped. Right next to me, at my aisle. And then, Leo Armstrong turned to look at me. I was frozen.

He reached out his hand for me to take, and I did, going solely on autopilot. All thought had left my mind. I had no idea what was happening or what he planned to do.

Leo smiled and looked around the theater, taking in the applause. He held up one hand in a gesture for thanks and quiet, and the audience immediately obeyed. The theater was as quiet as it had been during the most intense scenes of the movie. And then, Leo spoke.

And when he spoke, his eyes were on me and only on me. He wasn’t talking to anyone but me now.

“You’re probably wondering what all of this is about,” he said.

I nodded, still unable to find my voice. Seeing him again, the realness of him, the love I still had for him, was like drowning. I couldn’t bear to be this close and know that we were over.

“The truth is, when I first started this script, I was going to do a real hatchet job on you,” he said. “I was so angry and hurt and heartbroken, more jaded than I’d ever been before. I intended to hurt you by writing this film, Sophie.”

I swallowed. When I opened my mouth to tell him that I didn’t blame him, he held up his hand. “Wait,” he said softly. “Just let me get this out. I need to say it all.”

I nodded my acquiescence, and he continued.

“But as I worked on the screenplay, everything flooded back to me. All of our time together, and the way you made me feel. I remembered who you truly were, and for the first time I was able to step back and objectively view our relationship.” Leo swallowed, his chin trembling momentarily. When he spoke again, his voice was full of emotion. “I realized that you’d given yourself to me fully, and I was the one who’d held back. And then I understood, by the end of writing and filming, that I was the one who’d been a coward, too afraid to show you my feelings, Sophie. You’d lost everything to be true to what we had, and I hadn’t been willing to do the same. It had been easier for me to blame you. But that’s because I’d been a fool.”

I so badly wanted to talk now, but I recalled that he wanted me just to listen. So I kept my mouth shut even as tears streamed down my face.

Leo looked into my eyes. “I rewrote and reshot that last scene only a few weeks ago, and it was only then that I realized what I needed to do.” He took a deep breath and sighed, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I needed to tell you the truth, Sophie Scott. I needed to tell you that I always loved you, and that I still love you more than ever. Your love made me seize not just the day, but my life. And I intend to spend the rest of my life with the woman of my dreams…if she’ll still have me, that is.”

He handed me the bouquet as I nodded, barely able to speak. “Of course,” I said, as the crowd burst into thunderous applause that I didn’t even care about. All I cared about was him.

Leo.

He loved me back. He didn’t hate me at all.

I found myself wrapped up in Leo’s arms, tears running down my face and his lips pressed firmly to mine. I was his. It had always been that way but we’d let outside influences get in our way. As he kissed me there in that theater in front of his friends, colleagues and industry bigwigs, I cared only for Leo and our feelings for each other.

I knew that I’d never let a day pass without showing him how much I loved him, and what he meant to me.

Just minutes later, we walked out of the theater with our arms around each other, straight into a waiting limo—with Steve at the wheel, of course.

“It’s great to see you again, Miss Scott,” he said, and I was happy and relieved at the use of my real name.

“Yeah, yeah,” Leo said. “No offense, Steve, but let’s just get out of here already.”

As the car pulled away, I stayed snuggled close to Leo, still in shock that I was there with him, and that he hadn’t stopped loving me after all.

I felt the reality of Leo Armstrong, his scent, his feel, his heat. I let go of the flowers and clutched him.

“What’s wrong?” he said, touching my cheek that was still wet with tears. “I thought this was a happy moment, Sophie.”

“I’m afraid that if I let go of you, you’ll disappear again,” I told him.

He pulled me closer. “Then don’t let go,” he said, his voice slightly bemused. But then he held me, too, his strong arms encircling me. “I won’t if you won’t.”

And I knew then that he was a little scared too. We’d both thought that we’d lost each other, and being in one another’s arms again felt too good to be true.

But it was true.

I looked up into his eyes. “I’m so sorry—“

“Don’t,” he said. “You never need to apologize to me. I’m in love with you, and besides—I think we’ve met our apology quotient for this year.”

I laughed a little, my chest loosening. I was beginning to accept that this was actually happening. “I always want to tell each other how we’re feeling from now on,” I said. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he replied, stroking my hair. “As long as we both shall live.”

E
pilogue

“You’re wrong,” I said. “She would never say that.”

“Sure she would,” Leo said.

“Why? What’s her motivation?” I asked.

Leo stood for a moment in our living room, his blue eyes fixed on the rolling hills outside the large window.

“See?” I said when he didn’t answer. I smiled and shook my head. “She wouldn’t say that. Let’s go back to earlier in the script.”

Leo walked over to me. I tilted my head up toward him, offering up my lips, which he kissed. “I taught you everything you know and now I’ve created a monster,” he teased, running a hand over my growing belly.

“I learned some things for myself,” I said, putting my hand on top of his.

After the premiere, my life became just plain ridiculous. Leo and I eloped and then he took me to Mexico, just like he’d wanted to all that time ago. We stayed in a secluded area with our own beachside bungalow, big enough for a large family but all for us and complete with full staff and a chef. We stayed there for three perfect weeks, watching the gossip blogs go nuts over what happened at the screening and reading the reviews for
All For You
. Critics said the movie had signaled a new reign for Epix Studios, proving that the studio wunderkind could be passionate and thoughtful in his moviemaking and not just loud and explosive. Of course, I knew that already. And now, a year later, here we were, together in our new home working on a script—that old script he’d first had me work on during my dark days at Crush magazine. I’d finally gotten him to agree to change the ending to something more hopeful instead of the dark cautionary tale he wanted.

With his hand still on my belly, Leo said, “I hope our baby grows up to be as strong as you are.”

“And as willful as you are,” I added, kissing his lips again.

Leo had sold his Wilshire Boulevard apartment and his Malibu home soon after we were married; now we were nesting in the Hollywood Hills, a place that was ours—and our soon-to-be bundle of joy.

Even though it was a Saturday, we were working because we loved to work. When our minds went toe-to-toe it was as satisfying as when we rocked the bedroom—in a totally different way, of course.

Delaney came out to visit so often that she practically had her own bedroom, and Leo was trying to convince her to open a shop out in L.A. She was considering it, especially since the New Hampshire location was doing better than expected. And I still kept in touch with Ava Marie, who was on the short list of dancers in the Epix offices, so she was working steadily and had even upgraded to a decent apartment in Santa Monica proper.

Life was good. I still couldn’t believe it.

“Hey, I’m getting burnt out with this rewrite,” Leo said, breaking me from my reverie as he yawned and stretched his muscular arms upwards. “Want to take a drive and get a smoothie?”

I made a face. “That’s all I ever drink anymore.”

Leo just chuckled, grabbed my hand. “You have it so rough,” he said.

I missed drinking coffee like it was going out of style, but Leo had graciously gone without in a show of marital support. So I couldn’t complain too much, anyhow.

We got in his car and drove to a nearby restaurant that made great smoothies, and had nice outdoor seating. It normally wasn’t very crowded and we could easily avoid the photographers that hounded us at the more typical Hollywood hangouts.

The day was beautiful and I felt like nothing could possibly make it better. As we held hands and crossed the street to get inside the restaurant, I glanced over at Leo and found myself smiling, as I often did lately.

He looked back at me and smirked. “I thought you were sick of smoothies, but you’re smiling like you’d rather be here than anywhere else.”

“I’m sick of smoothies, but I’ll never be sick of spending time with you,” I told him, and we kissed one another. It was just as magical as our first kiss, probably more so, because now I knew that he was mine and I was his.

I knew that he truly was the good, kind, loving man that I’d always suspected him to be.

As we broke off the kiss, I happened to glance to my right.

Sitting not five feet away from us at one of the outside tables, all alone, was my old editor from Crush. Kait was sitting and nursing a drink, an open magazine in front of her. She looked pale and angry, her face pinched beneath her fancy sunglasses.