Page 164 of Reckless Hearts

The theme of tonight is Hollywood History, and a highlight reel shows clips from every best actor winner since 1929—Brando, Olivier, Hopkins—giants whose shoulders we’re all trying to stand on.

And all it does is make me breathless with want to join their ranks, to be remembered forever as one of the greats.

Eventually, Abigail McFay takes the stage to read the nominees for Best Actor.

She introduces the nominees and my heart pounds so loudly that I’m sure the mics must be picking it up. Each breath feels like a conscious effort, my mouth dry as sandpaper.

“And the Oscar goes to…Marcus Johnson, forThe Weight of Whispers.”

Holy fuck.

I stand on shaky legs, the world spinning around me. Helen squeezes my arm as I set off for the stage. The opening notes of the walk-up music float through the theater like a dream. Faces blur past—some familiar from magazine covers, others from decades of cinema history—all turned toward me with expectant smiles.

Somehow, I make it to the stage, where Abigail hands me the Oscar statue.

I grasp the statue as I look over the crowd.

Rows of beautiful people, glittering in their finery, stretch before me like a human jewelry box—diamonds glinting, sequins shimmering, gold thread catching the light. These are the people who shape global culture with a raised eyebrow or a turned head.

Right now, they’re all applauding me, recognizing me for my talent, holding my performance up as the pinnacle in our industry.

I know social media will be exploding with accolades and praise for me, with hashtags trending worldwide, with clips of my performance being shared millions of times, with countless strangers declaring their love for a version of me they think they know.

And I suddenly realize none of it matters.

39

Seb

Attending a wedding when you’re heartbroken is not a good idea.

Because it turns out that love is everywhere.

Love is threaded through the laughter of both grooms when Tim reaches Jamie at the altar on the grass lawn. It shines in the hug Tim’s daughter gives Jamie. It’s embedded in every word of the personal vows Tim and Jamie share as they stand in the sunshine, smiling at each other.

A familiar ache settles in my chest.

This will never be me.

I will never stand at the altar and pledge my life to the man I love.

As the celebrant declares Tim and Jamie husband and husband, and they kiss, I pretend the tears prickling my eyes are sentiment rather than desperate longing.

When they break apart and give each other radiant, dazzling smiles, a thought slides into my head.

Did I give up too easily?

Things seemed so black and white at the time. Marcus and I were making each other unhappy. We were like two stars locked in each other’s gravitational pull, destined to destroy each other.

I wanted more than he could ever give me.

But now, watching Tim and Jamie…knowing exactly how much they had to overcome to get here…doubt creeps into my mind.

Because if it’s possible for Tim and Jamie, after going through the most unimaginable thing possible, to reach the stage where they’re both standing there grinning like they’re the luckiest guys on earth, then maybe… Maybe the issues between Marcus and me aren’t as insurmountable as I once believed.

I know from Saskia that Marcus has been to rehab. He’s been sober for over a year now.

I’m so proud of him. I’ve been itching to send him a message to let him know that. But opening a dialogue between us has always felt so dangerous.