California Dreaming (29 page)

Eduardo came up behind her and turned her toward him. “Because you are,” he insisted, his dark eyes earnest. “And I still think it.”

“But even with all of that, Eduardo, it's not enough to get married. My parents? They married each other again tonight. But me? I'm not ready. For any of it. But I was so afraid I would lose you. …”

He put his strong arms around her, and she leaned into him.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'm so sorry.”

“I forgive you,” he said simply.

She burrowed into his chest, where it felt safe and warm, and for the briefest moment she wanted to beg him to take her back.

But no. She had something to prove. A lot of things to prove. She wanted to prove that she could be part of a family, with an actual mother and an actual father. She wanted to prove her talent to a town that too often thought of her as nothing more than Jackson Sharpe's daughter. Most of all, she had something to prove to herself.

She stepped out of Eduardo's embrace.

“Until we meet again, beautiful Samantha,” he said.

“I hope we do, Eduardo. I hope we do.”

He kissed her hand. Then she watched again through the window as he stepped out of the stateroom, made his way along the deck and to the chopper, and zoomed off into the night.

“Prodigious. Cacophony. Hypotenuse.”

Anna knew who it was before she saw him. She had always, always been able to recognize his voice. It had given her chills that very first day on the airplane, and it gave her chills now, as she turned away from the stern of the
Look Sharpe
, where she'd been watching a pod of porpoises leaping in the vessel's slow wake.

“Hi, Ben.”

He moved next to her. “Remember the day we met, on the plane? When you whispered big words into my ear? That was so hot.”

She laughed. “Good to know. And your pronunciation is perfect.”

He wore a black Calvin Klein suit instead of a tux, over an open white shirt, and he looked as good as that day on the plane, right down to the cleft in his chin. Better. There was a fresh confidence that hadn't been there before.

“The wedding was great, huh?” Ben asked. He turned to face her, leaning his elbows against the railing.

“Amazing,” Anna agreed.

“I heard your good news. About the movie.”

Anna was surprised. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone. “From—?”

“Sam, of course,” Ben replied. “I'm really happy for you, Anna. Can you work on the movie and go to school at the same time?”

“I'm not sure. There's no way I'm not going to work on the film. It's too big an opportunity to miss. Maybe they'll let me start late. If I have to defer for a year, I'll defer.”

Well, well. That was it, then. The decision she'd agonized over for so long had been made. The words came out of her mouth so easily, it was almost like she'd had them planned. Maybe all that overthinking wasn't such a waste of time. Or maybe it didn't go on forever.

He grinned. “That means you'll be here for the fall.”

“I guess I will.”

“That's … great. Your dad will be psyched. How's he doing?”

Anna raised her eyebrows and blew out some air. “Better each day. Back to work in three weeks. Can't wait to get out of the hospital.”

“I'm happy for you.” His blue eyes shone. “For so many reasons.”

“And I'm happy for you,” she echoed. “The club is a huge success. And you and Cammie …”

Her voice trailed off as she waited for him to fill in just what he and Cammie were to each other.

“Let's leave Cammie out of it. I've been trying to figure,” he mused, scratching his neck, “how things got so complicated between us.”

Anna shrugged. “Maybe we just weren't meant to be.”

“You don't really believe that.”

“No,” she admitted. “I don't believe that. ‘Meant to be?’ It's just something people say so that they don't have to look at all the things they did wrong and wish they could take back. Only by the time they figure that out, it's too late.”

“Bullshit,” Ben said roughly. He turned back to the ocean as a cheer went up from the upper deck, and the crowd up there started to chant for Jackson to kiss Dina, or vice versa. Anna had to strain to hear him over the noise. “Don't tell me it's too late.”

And so it came down to this. This moment. This boy. It had always been him, from the moment their eyes had met in the airplane's aisle. From the first moment his hand had touched her arm. From that insane moment in the plane's bathroom, when she'd found herself in his arms, his lips on hers, and she had never, ever wanted it to end.

He turned again to face her. “The night of the crash landing—remember that huge crowd of people in the terminal, after you all were safe? I was there.”

“What?”

“I saw the news. I was at the club with Cammie and Adam, but I left. They thought I went home. I went to the airport.”

“But why? And why didn't you say anything?”

“Anna—you kissed Logan in front of Sam, and Eduardo, and your dad. I was there. I was there—about thirty feet away. Close enough to see the slippers on your feet. Close enough to see how happy you looked.”

She swallowed hard. Yes. That was how it had happened. She had been so overjoyed, so relieved to be alive, she'd kissed Logan on impulse.

“You looked happy
together
. And if that's what you want—”

“It's not,” she insisted, cutting him off with a whisper. “What I want is …”

In the background, Citron's voice sang “Unforgettable” amid the tinkle of cocktail glasses.

“I love you, Ben,” she said. “That you came to the airport just makes me love you more. I don't care who knows or who likes it or who approves. I don't care if you go back to Princeton or open ten nightclubs or give it all up to sail around the world. If you want to sail around the world, I'll sail with you and write a screenplay about it. I want to stop thinking and planning and worrying and just be with you, only you, forever and ever and—”

There were probably ten or twenty more “forevers” where those had come from, but Anna never got to utter them. Instead, her arms went around him, and she kissed him.

Their first kiss, eight months ago, in the first-class lavatory of a Delta jet, had been amazing. Breathtaking, even. This one, in the middle of the inky Pacific Ocean, under the twinkle of a million stars overhead, with the glittery lights of the City of Angels shimmering in the distance, was forever.

THE A-LIST

Sam Sharpe, Cammie Sheppard, and Anna Percy were the most glamorous faces of Young Hollywood.

But it's a new year at Beverly Hills High–and there's a fresh cast of scandalous A-Listers ready to become the toast of Tinseltown.

L.A. will never be the same. …

Coming January 2009

Something wild and wicked is in the air. The Carlyle triplets are about to take Manhattan by storm.

Lucky for you, Gossip Girl will be there to whisper all their juicy secrets.

Turn the page for a sneak peek of

gossip girl
the carlyles

Created by the #1
New York Times
bestselling author Cecily von Ziegesar

hey people!

Surprised to hear from me? Don't be.

Something's happened and as you already know, I'm never quiet when things get interesting. And the Upper East Side just got a lot more exciting: We have a new threesome in town. And they're far too exquisite not to talk about …

But first, I'll need to back up a little.

As we all know, the beloved Avery Carlyle passed away this summer. She was the elegant, silver-haired woman who gave away her money to museums, libraries and parks the way other people donate last season's dresses to St. Géorge's thrift shop. At seventeen, she made headlines dancing on tables. At twenty-one, she married (for the first time) and moved into the famous peach-colored townhouse on the corner of 61st and Park. And at seventy-two, she still drank Coke and Gin and was always surrounded by fresh-cut peonies. Most importantly, she was the queen of getting exactly what she wanted from anyone. A woman after my own heart.

So how does this affect me, you ask? Keep your panties on, I'm getting there. Avery Carlyle's wayward daughter, Edie—who ran away to Nantucket to find herself through art after college—was called back to New York to sort through her mother's affairs. Judging by the bookcase of leather-bound journals (and the six annulled marriages) Mrs. Carlyle left in her wake, that process may take a while. Which is why Edie shut down the Nantucket house and moved her family into
B
’s old penthouse. Since the
père
Carlyle isn't in the picture, the cozy family of four consists of mother Edie and her triplets,
A, O,
and
B.

Meet the Carlyles: There's
O,
buff bod, golden blond hair … looks good so far. Then there's
A,
blond hair, blue eyes, a fairy-tale goddess robed in J.Crew. And lastly
B,
which stands for Baby.
Aw
. But just how innocent is she?

Then of course, our old friends are up to some new tricks. There's
J,
last seen drinking Tanqueray gimlets on a yacht in Sagaponack. But why was she there, when she was supposed to be doing arabesques at the Paris Opera House? Did the pressure get to her, or was she just homesick for her tycoon-in-training boyfriend,
JP
? … And what about the impeccably mannered
R,
swimming laps on the rooftop pool of SoHo House while his mother did a piece on summer entertaining for her television show
Tea with Lady Sterling
. We all know Lady
S
can't wait to plan his fairy-tale wedding to long-time girlfriend,
K.
But can young love endure? Especially when
K
was seen in the confessional at St. Patrick's … What's to confess, Kitty Cat?

What will the old crowd think of the new additions to our fair island? I, for one, can't wait to see if they sink or swim. …

your e-mail

Q:
          Dear GG,

So, my mom went to Constance Billard like a million years ago with the triplets’ mom and she told me the reason they moved here is because
A
slept with the entire island—boys and girls. And then
B
is like, this crazy brilliant genius that's mentally unstable and never washes her clothes. And
O
apparently swims up to Nantucket on the weekends in a Speedo. Is that true?

—3some

A:
          Dear 3,

Interesting. From what I've seen,
A
looks pretty innocent. But we all know looks can be deceiving. We'll see how brilliantly
B
does in the city. As for
O,
Nantucket's a long way away, so I doubt he can swim that far. But if he can … I've got one word for you: Endurance. Exactly what I look for in a man.

—GG

Q:
          Dear GG,

So, I just moved here and I love New York!!!!! Do you have any advice to make this year the best year ever?

—SMLLTWNGRL

A:
          Dear STG,

All I can say is be careful. Manhattan is a pretty small place itself, albeit much more fabulous than wherever you came from. No matter what you do, and no matter where you are, somebody is watching. And it's not going to be gossiped about in your high school cafeteria—in this town, it's bound to hit Page Six. If you're interesting or important enough to be gossiped about, that is. One can only hope.

—GG

Q:
          Dear GG:

I bet you're just saying you deferred from college because you didn't get in anywhere. Also, I heard that a certain monkey-owning dude never made it to West Point and I think it's pretty mysterious that he's still here and so are you. Are you really a girl?? Or are you even a senior? I bet you're just some nerdy thirteen-year-old.

—RUCHUCKB

A:
          Dear RUCHUCKB,

I'm flattered that my continued presence is spawning conspiracy theories. Sorry to disappoint, but I am as feminine as they come, without a pet monkey in sight. My age? As the venerable elder Avery Carlyle would say: A real lady never tells.