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He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Do you want to leave? I can watch this and get the signatures. Jessie will never know you didn’t stay. I’ve heard this one is a tear-jerker.”
She should say yes. She should flee the scene and take the reprieve when she could—but then she might miss her chance to see him. “No, I’ll stay. How sad could it possibly be?”
The orchestra started up, and she settled in to be bored out of her mind. However, not thirty minutes into the play, she realized she wasn’t bored. And it also turned out that a musical could be really damn sad. She swiped the tears off her cheeks and curled the tissue Max gave her into her fist. Jesus Christ, how much more tragedy could these characters take?
How much more could she take?
At one point, she couldn’t keep track whether she was crying or just sitting there in mind-numbing sadness. Max threw his arm over her shoulder and she snuggled closer, not ripping her eyes off the stage even once. When the scene changed and a new set of actors came out, she turned to Max and whispered, “This is actually good.”
“It is.” He nodded, flipping the Playbill face up on his lap. Opening it, he found the actor’s page with their pictures. “Here comes the guy Jessie is half in love with. The whole reason you’re here. Justin Holloway, otherwise known as Marius. He’s quite the sensation in the UK.”
A spark of dread washed over her, and she looked down at the book. No sooner did her eyes fall on his picture than he sang—and she knew. She knew who it was on the stage. Justin wasn’t stage crew. He wasn’t even a small part in the musical. He was Justin-freaking-Holloway … one of the biggest stars of the goddamn show.
But he’d been wearing a stage crew shirt!
And she was the biggest fool on the surface of the planet. As he sang about love at first sight, the same song he’d sang to her outside of the restaurant, she thought back on the time they had spent together. Had he ever actually said he was stage crew? Had he ever inferred he wasn’t? And more importantly, would he see her sitting in the crowd?
She hunkered down in her seat more, trying to avoid that very thing. When he came within a few feet of her, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sang, she thought she would be busted. She swore his eyes fell on her—even stayed for a second or two. He even paled and messed up his lyrics. But then he looked away and kept singing.
The curtains fell for intermission, and so did her guard.
If he came out right now, he would see how uncertain she was about everything. Who was he really? And what did last night really mean to him? Had it all been a game? She grabbed her Playbill off the floor and scanned through his bio. No mention of family or anyone special in his life.
At least that had been the truth.
Her heart twisted, so she twisted the Playbill in between her hands. “Son of a bitch.”
“Why do you look like you want to punch someone, cry, or both?”
Lexi startled. “When did you get back?”
“Just now.” Max handed her a glass of wine, which he’d gone out into the lobby to refill, and his eyes narrowed. “But I know the look on your face. It’s not a good sign.”
She looked down at the book she’d crumbled up in her hand. Sighing, she opened it up and pointed an accusing finger at Justin’s face in the gray photo. “See him?”
Max raised a brow. “Yeah, he’s been singing in my face. What about him?”
“He lied to me.”
“All actors lie.” He opened his mouth and closed it, seeming to be at a loss for words. “You realize he’s acting up there, right? And he’s not singing to you directly—even if he does keep looking at you. By the way, I think you have a fan.”
“Oh my God, Max. Yes, I’m aware he’s acting—and he doesn’t keep looking at me.” Was he? “I met him last night.”
“Wait, you know him?” Max leaned closer. “Jessie’s gonna flip. How did you meet him? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t know.” Her cheeks heated. “He let me think he was stage crew.”
“He told you he was stage crew? Well that’s odd.”
“Well … not exactly.” She tucked strands of hair behind her ear, knowing where this was going. “I assumed he was, and he didn’t correct me.” When he opened his mouth, she blurted out, “He was wearing a stage crew shirt!”
“Ah.” He crossed his arms and smirked. She knew that look. The one that said he saw a loophole and would use it. “Then he technically didn’t lie. You assumed.”
She rolled her eyes. “Says the lawyer.”
“Hey, it’s true. Like it or not, it’s true.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes intent on the empty stage. “I’m more interested in knowing why he lied. Most men in his position would use their status as a way to get laid. Not hide it.”
