Justin wonders sometimes whether you can be happy without the things you once had.
It's stupid, Cameron even says it's stupid. "Just realize you're growing up," she tells him, often, and holds his hand when they drive, even on the gear shift while he switches from third to fourth, speeding up and down the I-5, just because they can. "You're a wonderful man," she says to him, and never once says 'boy'.
He wonders if you can miss people coming up to you in movie theaters and grocery stores, if your girlfriend slash fiancee isn't with you; if you can possibly wish the paparazzi were following you at your wedding. He sees the US magazine with Christina's wedding on the cover, and buys it without thinking. "I'm just curious if she's happy," he tells Cameron, defensively, and gets a bit haughty when she laughs and teases him about not just calling.
"We weren't that close," he tells her, "me and Christina. I can't just call and say, how's it going, do you miss the limelight?"
Cameron sobers up instantly, takes his hand. They go out for dinner that night and photographers catch her, blonde hair messy and pulled back.
"You don't miss the flash, Justin," she says later in bed, while she's curled up on her side and stroking his chest. "It's not that."
He realizes it's not the flash he misses. The fame, it's not the fame he misses, it's not the constant pressure of being in the public eye, it's not the insane stalkers trying to climb into his car.
"It's not," Cameron insists. Justin knows.
He's not sure what he does miss, except that sometimes when he looks in the mirror, he smiles at himself, and feels whole, just for a second. He's happy in this life, god is he happy. He's thankful every day for Cameron and some peace and quiet, and his family and his friends and all the rest of it.
In the mirror, his white teeth smile back, and the reflection is somehow more real. Just for a second. Justin blinks, and then it's gone, and he searches the reflection for what's missing.