Wildest Dreams

28. Pierre

PIERRE

F ilming finally wraps on Gossamer Road . I have no idea if this movie is any good. I worry that the tension between Marina and me may have ruined our on-screen chemistry, but Belladonna seems happy with the result. Now I have to trust that the editing team will piece together something decent.

At least I don’t have to see Marina until it’s time to promote the film next year.

I push those worries to the back of my mind. Right now, I’m devastated to leave Magnolia Row. The thought of waking up in Bel Air without Kendall makes me sick to my stomach. I want to ask her if she would like me to stay, but I’m too afraid of the answer. Throughout our whole relationship, she’s stressed that she only wants this to be short-term. She has been very clear on that point, and the last thing I want to do is put that kind of pressure on her and end on an awkward note.

In anticipation of leaving, I want to get her something to remember me by. She’s not into fancy jewelry, but I did find a seller on Etsy to make a custom silver alligator necklace, which I plan to give her tonight on our last night together.

I call Harriett to make sure she remembers to pick me up from the airport tomorrow evening.

“Of course I remember,” she says. “I booked the flight.”

“Yeah, yeah. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You sound down.”

“It’s my last night with Kendall.”

“Oh boy. You’ll be okay. Besides, she can always come see you in Cali.”

“No, she’s been very clear that tonight is it.”

“Don’t let her see you cry. I know how you get.”

I nod as if she could see me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Harriett.”

“Text me when you’re taking off.”

“I will.”

I plan the final evening meticulously. Patsy takes Kendall to get her hair cut and nails done. While she’s gone, I fill the house with candles and roses, though I did not buy every single flower in town this time. Her necklace is in a pink box with a white ribbon on the bedroom dresser. I even make a playlist of the Taylor Swift songs I know she loves.

I shower before Kendall gets home, and when she walks in, I’m waiting for her with a glass of Prosecco. I squeeze her tight and kiss her as deeply as I did on our first night together. When we unlock our lips, she’s breathless and starry-eyed.

“I still have to remind myself this has all been real,” she says.

“It’s the most real thing I’ve ever experienced,” I tell her.

She keeps me company in the kitchen as I cook filet mignon, baked asparagus, roasted potatoes, and garlic bread.

“Are you trying to put me in a food coma?” she asks.

“No, I’m just showing off,” I tell her.

We’re normally quite chatty, but this evening we’re relatively quiet. She’s radiant with her hair perfectly curled and the candlelight casting a soft glow on her face.

“This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” she says after her first bite.

“Thank you,” I say. “It’s the butter.”

That is the extent of our conversation at dinner. This is torture. I do not want to leave tomorrow.

After dinner, Kendall helps me clean the kitchen, then we go back to the bedroom. She sees the gift box on the dresser, but I tell her she has to wait until tomorrow to open it.

“Well, you’ll have to wait for your present too, then.”

“Kendall, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to. Besides, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything else after the fortune you spent fixing up the house.”

“That wasn’t a big deal. I want you to be happy.”

“It was a big deal to me.”

“Understood.” I embrace her and we kiss. She tastes like wine and strawberry lip gloss. My heart wrenches knowing this will be our last night together—possibly forever—but for now, I’m going to make the most of this night. Every inch of her body will get my full attention.

* * *

T he morning I’ve been dreading for weeks finally arrives. Neither of us slept well, and I know the drive to Atlanta will feel like a whole day instead of three and half hours.

After we shower and get dressed, I give her the gift box. She opens it nervously, telling me she hopes I didn’t spend too much.

“It’s Bertha!” she exclaims as she opens it. “Oh, Pierre! It’s perfect!” She’s grinning from ear to ear and I hug her, pulling her close and kissing her forehead.

“Now it’s time for yours.” She goes to the nightstand, opens the bottom drawer, and pulls out a box wrapped in childish alligator wrapping paper.

“I’m sensing a theme,” I say. She bites her bottom lip and watches me tear it open. When I see what’s inside, I can’t help but smile. It’s a t-shirt from Cattywampus Brewing. “Kendall, thank you! I’m going to wear it all over LA.”

“Good! I’m glad you like it. I thought it would be nice, since we had our first date there and all.”

“Absolutely.” I hug her again. “God, I—” I almost said the three words I’ve been avoiding for weeks. I sigh. “I’m going to miss you,” I say instead.

She pulls back and looks at me with watery eyes. “I know. Me too.”

We don’t speak as she helps me pack my bags. It doesn’t take long since I had packed light. We load up the rental car and stand in the driveway for what feels like an eternity.

“I don’t care if this movie turns out to be the most massive steaming pile of crap I’ve ever made. This was the best experience I’ve ever had. I don’t regret a thing.”

“Good. Me neither.”

“I know you wanted things to end here, but please keep in touch.”

“We’ll see,” she says, then bites her bottom lip. “I need to see how I feel once you’re gone. You’ve changed everything for me, for the better. Before you came, I was a ghost.”

“And now?”

“Now I want to reimagine my future. Set some goals. Evaluate my priorities. I need to decide what I want the rest of my life to look like.”

I’m tempted to tell her to include me in that vision, but I stop short. She’s made it clear she needs space, and I have to respect that.

“I wish you the best, Kendall. You deserve nothing but sunshine and rainbows from here on out.”

“Thank you, Pierre. You too.”

We hug one last time and I lean down to kiss her. I feel warm tears on my cheeks, which I’m not sure are mine or hers. She pulls away, face flushed and wet, and I realize they’re hers. “Goodbye, Pierre.”

I open my mouth to say goodbye as she turns away, but I choke on the words.

I simply get in my car, dreading the long drive to the Atlanta airport.

In the distance by the water, Bertha is sunbathing. Life will go on in Magnolia Row, as if I’d never been here at all.