“How’s that for a damn acceptance speech!” Robin Liu said into the microphone. Everyone cheered, but they didn’t matter.
Just us.
The road here was painful, but I couldn’t imagine beginning anywhere else.
Noah
“We are standing backstage with newly engaged actors Amelia London and Noah Sloan,” a reporter caught us when we were far enough backstage. “How do you both feel?
I glanced to Amelia and grinned. Of course we were happy, but probably not for the same reason as the reporter—for the first time in our lives, we weren’t referred to as “former child stars.” We were just actors. We had finally transcended that title.
“We feel fucking awesome!” I answered.
Epilogue
Fifteen Years Later
Noah
“I hate you!” she screamed, slamming the door. I couldn’t help but think about how life changes. It was funny and somewhat scary.
Those three little words hurt me, but I’m sure they hurt her more.
“I can’t talk to her!” Amelia yelled, throwing up her hands as she stomped away from our daughter’s bedroom door and into our bedroom, where she proceeded to slam the door also. I couldn’t help but smile. She and Aurora were so similar, it was hard not to.
“Mom and Aurora fighting again?” Austin asked, coming up the stairs as he removed his headphones and ran his hand through his dark hair far too many times. He had the same blue eyes as his mother. “Why don’t you guys just let her act? She’s good at it.”
“THANK YOU!” Aurora yelled from inside the room.
“AUSTIN, GO TO YOUR ROOM!” Amelia hollered as well.
“What did I do?” Austin lifted his head up in disbelief. A house of screamers, that’s what we had here. I kind of loved it—when my ears weren’t ringing.
Amelia snatched open the door, glaring at him, and he dropped his head, muttering something as he walked past me.
“You should know better by now,” I told him when he opened his door.
“Thanks, Dad. You’re a big help!” He made a face at me, putting his headphones back on, and he glared, sighing loudly, “Ugh. Jeez, how am I the one getting in trouble? I didn’t do anything. Aurora, just let it go. I can’t take it anymore.”
He closed the door as well.
So dramatic. They’d both make good actors, but Austin was more into his music. He was only twelve, two years older then Aurora, and the only reason he wasn’t asking us to help him start his own career was because he was shy. He could really sing, but he didn’t have the confidence to do it in front of anyone outside of family yet, and we had banned him from posting anything on the Internet. For now, he was satisfied with the small recording studio we had built for him in the basement. But I knew with each passing year, this fight would only go on.
“Feeling better?” I said to Amelia when she came out of the room dressed in a pair of jeans and my white V-neck shirt. It was loose, but with the jacket she wore, it worked.
“It’s not funny,” she frowned, using my arm to balance herself as she stepped into her heels.
“It’s kind of funny,” I said.
“Noah—”
“I’ll take care of it. Just get to set.” I kissed her forehead. “I’m looking forward to this movie.”
“How can I play a television producer when I can’t even manage our kids?” she replied, kissing my cheek and then my lips quickly.
“We could put them on the payroll?” I suggested as she skipped down the stairs.
“You’re just full of jokes today, aren’t you?” She called up to me right by the door. “Call me, okay?”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” She waved, then yelled, “And I love you Grumpy Pants and Radiohead!”
When she was gone, Austin stuck his head out the door. “What’s a Radiohead?”
Dear God, I’m old.
“Come here,” I said, holding out my hand out for him, and he came but didn’t take it, because twelve-year-olds were too cool to hold their father’s hands. “Aurora, come out here.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Aurora Fiona Sloan, I will not ask again,” I stated, waiting. Grouchily, she opened the door, standing with her arms crossed. “Are you going to give me attitude, or are we going to eat the strawberry Nutella mini pies your Aunt Mayko made?”
“Definitely pie,” Austin answered for her, rushing down the stairs and pulling her along. I just watched, walking behind them.
Beside the stairs were photos of all us. Amelia and I were married thirteen years ago. Right after Sinners Like Us, we both got roles pouring in again left and right. For a year, we were actually both working in different countries. Was it hard? Yes. But it was in no way as painful or as difficult as it was when we were teenagers. And when we did see each other during breaks, we were barely ever out of bed—which led to Austin and then Aurora. She stayed home for five years to be with them as I worked. She didn’t have to, but she did anyway. All the time off must have done her good, because she came back to win another Oscar for her portrayal of Eleanor of Aquitaine in the movie The Woman Who Would Be Queen.
Our lives had slowed down and sped up in different ways. We both took only one role a year, at opposite times so that we could be there for our kids, so they would have a normal childhood—as normal as one could have in Los Angeles.
“Dad, you’re so slow!” Aurora said.
“What can I say? I’m old,” I laughed, picking her up when I got to the bottom of the stairs. She squealed like a piggy as I tickled her.
“Not fair, Daddy!” she gasped, pouting when I put her on the stool behind the kitchen island.
“What, you wanted to be angry all day?” I asked, reaching into the fridge to grab the pies.
“I wanna be serious!”
“Aurora, you are ten. You are way too young to be serious,” I said, putting a plate in front of them both, “and far too young to start acting.”
“You started acting when you were seven,” Austin reminded me.
I stared at him.
“Shutting up,” he muttered, stuffing his face when I gave him a fork.
“But you did,” Aurora stood up to me. “It’s not fair. I’m good. My drama teacher said I was just as good as Mommy was when she was my age. Other kids get to go on the red carpet with their parents and get to do commercials and stuff. I want to too! Don’t you think I can, Daddy?”
She had no idea what she was asking, which is why I couldn’t give in to her. No matter how much she begged and how cute she looked with those ribbons in her curly brown hair.
“Aurora—Rawr Rawr,” I said. She made a face when I used her nickname. “You are a talented little girl, and your drama teacher is right. I see so much of your mother in you that it really is scary. You will be an amazing actress one day, but not now.”
“But why?” She tried not cry. “Mommy and you—”
“Because your mom and I went through a lot. We never had a free second, everyone was yelling in our faces, we worked way too hard for so long that it wasn’t fun. And the reason why your mother and I don’t take you out to premieres is because we don’t want to have any more attention on you as it is. Do you remember when we went to that zoo while we were in England and someone took a picture of you picking your nose?”
Austin laughed, strawberry on his face. “It was all over school when we got back. Everyone called you Picky Ms. Pick-Pick.”
“And you just let them?” I asked, throwing him a napkin.
He shrugged. “It was only for a day.”
I looked back to Aurora, whose face was red, and she stuffed a piece of pie in her mouth. “So what? It was—”
“It would be like that every day,” I told her. “When you’re on set, when you go out, everywhere—people would take even more photos of you. The reason why you both barely make the news is because no cares that much, so TV people aren’t really looking out for photos of you. But the moment you start acting, the moment everyone falls in love with you just like they did with your mom, is the moment you never get a moment of privacy again. You will hate it. You will hate acting, and as your father, it will hurt me to see you unhappy with something we both love.”