He winces. “You’re not the first woman to tell me that.”
I lift an eyebrow in question.
“Let’s just say some of the women I’ve dated haven’t been too fond of this habit of mine,” he admits, scratching at his scruff.
“I can’t imagine why not,” I say dryly, then remember something and bolt upright. “Wait a minute. Was Madison Masterson one of them?”
He grimaces apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Sothat’swhy she hated me?!” I exclaim, slapping my palm on the table for emphasis and rattling our food containers. The frigid glares this woman shot me on set could freeze the tits off a polar bear, as my dad would say. “She was so cold to me when we filmed and I could never figure out why. I chalked it up to professional jealousy because I knew she’d been gunning for my part, but I was legitimately afraid to turn my back on her.” At least I could finally put this mystery to bed. “I remember hearing something about the two of you dating, but I never knew what was rumor and what was true.”
More like I blocked out any gossip pertaining to Ryder’s love life to protect my own sanity. Even after years of practice, I’ve never quite mastered the air of casual indifference necessary to convince others I’m unaffected by him, so ignorance became my best weapon. When it comes to Ryder, I’ve had toconstruct an impenetrable force field and guard my heart like Fort Knox.
He winces again. “It’s my fault. I didn’t realize she was the jealous type until it was too late.”
“You don’t say.” I realize it’s petty and vindictive and I’m not proud of it, but I feel the tiniest kernel of satisfaction that I got under Madison’s skin.Madison and her stupid alliterative stage name.“Now you have me wondering how many other women secretly want me dead,” I tell him, my mind scrolling through his rumored flings.
He waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t believe everything you read. I’ve barely met half the actresses I’ve reportedly been involved with, and the other half were probably publicity stunts.”
I flinch internally. The topic is a sore spot for me, which Ryder should know better than anyone. I deflect, not wanting to prod that particular bruise. “Yes, I’m sure you’ve spent the last ten years in seclusion. A veritable monk.”
He attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite stick. “Something like that.” His eyes meet mine. “Tell me about this last guy.”
Oh geez.My stomach plummets, all this hastily eaten food suddenly churning in my gut. “Elliott?”
“Elliott.” He repeats it like he’s trying out the way it sounds.
“You really want to go there?”
He raises his eyebrows, waiting expectantly.I guess he does.
My heart bounces like a pogo stick. “What do you want to know?”
“Why didn’t it work out?” He leans in, forearms crossed and resting on the table, his eyes laser focused on mine, and it suddenly hits me:He’s been waiting to ask this.
I squirm on the bench, not loving being the one on the hot seat. “On paper, Elliott was great. I mean,isgreat. Present tense.” I rattle off an awkward laugh. “He’s smart and funny, successful, comes from a solid family. We got along well. And even though we didn’t have a ton of the same hobbies, it just sort of…worked. We complemented each other, I think,” I muse, recalling the way he was always game to do the things I enjoyed, like visit the Getty’s latest exhibit even though he “wasn’t an art guy,” and the way I learned to appreciate his love for golf even though I found the sport about as exciting as watching grass grow. “He’s also really normal, which might make him sound boring, but with how strange and abnormal our lives are, I appreciated that more than I thought I would.”
Ryder’s listening intently, his expression giving nothing away. I feel a little guilty at his lack of reaction, like I’m not doing enough to sell Elliott’s good qualities.
“Objectively, he’s the best I could hope for, especially considering all the baggage we bring to the table. I mean, do you know how hard it is to find a guy who’s not intimidated by all this? Who’s not offended when photographers yell at him to ‘Get out of the way’? Who’s willing to stand behind me and carry my purse?” A gust of hot wind blows my hair around haphazardly, and I brush the wisps off my face. “Trust me, they barely exist.”
His eyes glimmer, the sunlight glinting off the water behind him. “You’re not with him now, though.”
This sprawling vessel hasn’t felt small until this moment. I can’t withstand his penetrating gaze a second longer, so I stand abruptly and cross to the side of the boat, gripping the handrail as I look out over the water. It’s unnerving, the wayhe’s always been able to read me, the way he hears thoughts I haven’t spoken aloud. I can’t just let him waltz back into my life and peer into my soul like this. This man is so dangerous for me, the exception to every rule I’ve created to keep myself safely in control. It’s only taken him days to bulldoze through barriers that took me ten years to build.
“What happened?” he says to my back.
I watch a fish flip out of the water, then disappear with a ripple. The cicadas are droning so loudly, it’s drowning out my thoughts, scrambling the fragile composure I’m desperately clinging to. It’s so strange to be talking about this with Ryder when I haven’t even figured out how to explain it to my family.
“Nothing happened. Nothing major, I mean. It was more like…” I hesitate, weighing my words. “It seemed like he was waiting for me to grow out of this,” I say eventually.
It takes him a minute. “This, meaning acting?” I feel him join me at the rail, the air shifting as he gets closer.
I nod, still looking out on the landscape. “I always felt like he was tolerating it, like he didn’t take my job seriously. He would make comments here and there, that once we settled down and had kids, I could give up acting and retire, that I’d no longer need to work. And I get it, I guess, because it’s not like we’d need the money.” I turn to face him, suddenly passionate. “But you know me: I love the work. I don’t do this for the money, or because I like being famous. I genuinelylovewhat we do. I love being on a set. I love getting to collaborate with the most brilliant and creative minds in the world. I love taking this thing on paper and turning it into something that makes peoplefeelsomething. Performing is what I’m meant to do, it’s what makes me feel the most alive. Even if I do want afamily, I’m still going to want to work in some capacity. I don’t want to give it all up. And I want someone who wants thatforme.”
He nods seriously, his gaze steady and thoughtful, like he’s absorbing every word. “That sounds perfectly reasonable.”
I exhale. “Does it? Because it’s a weird thing, to break up with someone who hasn’t really done anything wrong. It’s not like we had some blowout fight. And then there’s the second-guessing. What if Idon’tfind someone better? What if I’m being too picky, waiting around for some perfect match that doesn’t exist? The deck is already seriously stacked against me ever finding someone well adjusted enough to put up with all this. Should I have stayed with someone who’s good enough? Honestly, I can’t blame people who do. I just couldn’t make myself settle for good enough when…” The words die on my tongue as I realize too late that I’ve said too much.
