Epilogue

“Are you ready?”

Wren tugged at her vest, adjusting the low-cut fit, the white shirt underneath cutting even lower. Madison had insisted she deserved a suit for this. And had delighted in choosing the cut. They almost hadn’t made it out of Wren’s house and into the waiting limousine outside. Especially with Madison in that red dress she was wearing across from her in the spacious back of the limousine.

“I’m not sure I am,” Wren said.

Madison chuckled, kissing her, then pausing in place. Wren pouted at losing out on what she’d thought was going to be a great kiss.

“Your lipstick,” Madison whispered.

“It’s a stain, it’ll be fine. Kiss me.”

Grinning, Madison did. Wren’s favorite type of kiss. Filled with the hint of a laugh, soft, a little messy. She thought every type of kiss they shared was her favorite, though. Madison pulled back, elbows on her knees and staying in Wren’s space. “This is going to be amazing.”

“What if they hate it?”

“Then they’re all wrong.”

“Every single critic in LA will be wrong if they all hate it?”

“Every.” Madison kissed her. “Single.” Another kiss. “One.”

Wren pressed in closer and deepened the final kiss, her tongue tracing along Madison’s bottom lip. Madison moaned, then pulled away and Wren groaned her frustration.

“Don’t start in that suit!” Madison scolded, pulling all the way away back into her seat and raising an eyebrow at her, cheeks flushed.

“You started it in the house then left me high and dry.”

Madison’s eyebrow crept higher.

“Fine, just high.”

She snorted and Wren grinned. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

It was a blur, as it always was. One would think after doing this so many times in her life, it would be stamped into her mind. Rather, for Wren, it passed in flashes, always. The bright lights of cameras going off. The shouts of fans. The pens thrust into her hand as she tried to sign what she could before security swept her back up the red carpet. The microphones. The sight of Trinity ahead, giving her a wave as she made her way through to the theater. The endless questions.

But now, this one was laced with the grip of Madison’s hand in her own.

They’d been to other premieres since the first. Many, really. Wren continued to go to public appearances, supporting other movies, invited as a guest regularly. She needed to network. It was all part of staying in Hollywood life.

But this was the first one that she’d been to with Madison that was Wren’s. And it was funny, if she paused to think about it, that after all the ones she’d been to in which she’d starred, Madison’s first with her was the one which Wren had produced.

Had worked her ass off to bring to the screen.

Madison’s hand clung to hers as they walked a few yards up the red carpet to be face to face with Hannah, once again. Wren’s heart fluttered in her chest—Hannah was one person who Wren really did want to like the movie. Not only that; she was also the one reporter Wren might share other tidbits of her life with. She and Madison had decided today was definitely a good day to do so, too.

Wide smile on her face, Hannah stood with her cameraman, microphone held out. “And here with Wren Acker, executive producer of The Refrains of Her, and on Wren’s arm, her ever-lovely partner, Madison Taylor. How are the nerves, Wren?”

Wren laughed charmingly. “Higher than usual, to be honest. It feels like my first red carpet all over again.”

“How do you think The Refrains of Her is going to be received?”

“I hope well! But you can never really tell. I want critics to see what we’ve been trying to do with this movie, of course. But this movie isn’t for them as much as it is for queer media.”

“As a queer media enthusiast, I can’t tell you how excited I personally am for this movie. We’ve heard a lot about all the nitty-gritty of your hard work to secure the budget you really wanted for a blockbuster queer movie. What about the nitty-gritty of filming? How was it being on set surrounded by so many queer professionals?”

“Mind blowing. Having queer people involved in a queer project from the beginning of the concept to the final steps of editing has been possibly the most rewarding experience I’ve ever had. Of course, our team hasn’t been entirely queer—that was never the plan. We wanted to get queer voices into every step of the process, though, and that’s what we achieved.”

“Are you proud of her?” Suddenly, Hannah was holding the microphone out toward Madison.

Who, if Wren knew her as well as she did, had probably tuned out a minute ago, what with everything going on.

Madison’s eyes widened at the microphone in her face, and she grinned. “Sorry?”

Hannah laughed, and repeated, “Are you proud of her?”

“Oh! That couldn’t be easier to answer. Of course I am. I haven’t seen anyone work so hard nor so passionately on anything in my life. And it’s all come together into a masterpiece.”

Hannah gave an overdramatic gasp. “Does that mean you’ve had a sneak peek?”

Madison smirked wickedly and the bottom dropped out of Wren’s stomach. “Not saying a word.”

“Rude,” Hannah threw back playfully. She turned the microphone back to Wren, and Madison squeezed Wren’s hand, grateful that that was over. “I’ve heard rumors of a series in the works? As well as a few movies. But that series has really caught our eye.”

“I can’t talk much about it just yet, but I am very, very excited about it. I may be considering a small role in it, if all comes together.”

Hannah threw her hand over her chest. “Don’t tease me. Wren Acker, back on the screen?”

“I’d be lying if I said I haven’t missed it. Right now, I love what I’m doing more. But getting the chance to scratch that itch on a very queer TV series? I can’t turn down that opportunity.”

“We would be delighted to have you back. But I’m with you—definitely don’t stop what you’re doing. Now, to bring down the mood a bit. Are you disappointed to see Dan Barrows still living large as a producer?”

Madison’s hand tightened once again. Wren took a breath, brow knitting together as she considered how to answer that. “Am I disappointed that there continues to be very few true repercussions for bigoted cishet white men in places of power? Of course. Am I surprised? Not remotely. But everyone knows what he did, and he can’t escape that, even if he feels like he has.”

“Well said. I know for a fact there have been several walk-outs on projects he’s stepped into.”

Wren grinned. “I heard about that too.”

“Well, unfortunately we can’t hold up any more of your time, but I did have one question, if I could?”

Madison straightened next to her, and Wren leaned into her a little. They’d sent Hannah an email to set this up. They knew it was coming. Even so, her heart was racing in her chest.

“Of course.”

“There’s been rumors of an engagement?”

Hannah appeared more delighted than ever at being the one who got to bring this up—never mind that it was Wren who had sent the email with said rumor, giving Hannah exclusivity to break the story.

“Has there?” Wren asked innocently. She turned to look at Madison, pressed in close to her side, their faces mere inches from each other. The camera was right on her, she knew. Flashes went off behind them.

They’d kept this to themselves and a few close people for months now. But they wanted to start organizing things and decided to orchestrate the reveal in their own way.

“Well,” Wren said, eyes on Madison’s. “Those rumors would be true. We’re engaged.”

Hannah gave a squeal of excitement, but Wren barely noticed, eyes on Madison as Madison smiled, tilting her head to kiss Wren right there. More flashes. More yelling.

But to Wren, there was nothing more than Madison, right there on that red carpet, and that kiss that would soon be in every tabloid and on every screen in LA.

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