“There is my queen,” he says, kissing my cheek. “And my princess.” He tosses her in the air, and she screams with glee.
We walk down the steps together, and my father snaps a picture of the three of us. Annabella in tights with roses on them and a shirt that says “Dada’s prize.” My mother put on a cream-colored headband with a huge bow on it, and I’m surprised she hasn’t ripped it off.
“We have to get going,” my father says and walks over to my mother and kisses her on the cheek and then kisses Annabella. My mother has now moved to California, and she lives in Carter’s house on the beach. There was no way to keep her away, and my father is thriving in it. “See you later,” he says, and I have to think that he will eventually get his head out of his own ass and just see what is in front of him. They are both still in love, and nothing is keeping them from being together.
“Good luck, guys,” she says, walking out with us and waving at us as we make our way to the awards.
“Do you have a speech?” my father asks him, and he just shakes his head. “Winging it? We all know what happened last time,” he jokes. When Carter got up on stage at the Golden Globes and was at a loss for words, his speech was all about Annabella and her spit-up stories and the all-nighters that she makes him pull.
We sit in the limo line, and I breathe in and out. Counting to ten, I try to get myself to simmer down because I’m so nervous for him. It takes forty minutes for us to be let out, and the crowd goes wild when he gets out and waves.
Kellie and Brian walk up to us, and she kisses his cheek. She wrote the song for the movie soundtrack, and she is also up for an award tonight. Her husband beams with pride by her side. I walk to step away from Carter so he can take his own pictures, but I know he won’t let go. We walk in and take our seat in the front row, and I sit between my father and my husband. Kellie ends up winning the Oscar for the best song, and the crowd goes wild . . . and then it’s time for the best actor award.
“I’m so proud of you, regardless of who wins,” I whisper to him when they introduce him and play a little clip of the movie.
I hold his hand in mine, squeezing it when the presenter says, “And the Oscar goes to . . .” They take the paper out of the envelope, and I sit here, waiting for his name. “Carter Johnson.”
I jump out of my chair, and he hugs me. “I love you so much,” I tell him, and he kisses my neck and doesn’t let me go. “You have to go and get your award.” He smiles at me, kissing my lips. “But before you go, challenge completed,” I tell him, and he looks at me with huge eyes and then looks down at my stomach, and I just nod. He shakes my father’s hand and takes the steps two by two until he holds the Oscar in his hand and steps to the mic.
“My wife told me in the car to prepare a speech, but I said I’m going to wing it,” he says, looking down at the gilded man in his hand. “That might not have been my best choice since I am coming up at a complete blank right now.” I shake my head, and he laughs. “I want to thank Ivan for pushing me to the point where I thought I was going to break.” He names the key people on the film. “To Ryan, who gave me a shot even though everything was stacked against me and everyone told him not to.” I look over at my father, who just laughs. “To Annabella, being your father is the best role I could ever have,” he says, beaming with pride and a huge smile. “And finally, to the woman who gave me everything that you could possibly give a person. Erin”—he looks at me—“you are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and you make me want to be a better man. I love you,” he says just as the music starts. They are ushering him to the side stage, but he doesn’t go. Instead, he comes down the stairs and grabs my hand and hands my father the Oscar and then looks at him with just a nod. He pulls me to the side where it’s semi-quiet and then leans in. “Are you really pregnant?” he asks me, and I smile.