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‘It was Owen who organised it. What’s happening with him anyway?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Bella answered shortly, really not wanting to dwell on him. ‘We’re just friends.’
Vita giggled. ‘As if. The two of you the night before my wedding? My God, you had the place steaming up so bad there was practically water running down the walls.’
Bella felt her cheeks blaze.
‘He’s very good-looking,’ Vita said. ‘And very successful.’
‘What do you know about him?’ She couldn’t stop her curiosity.
‘Bella—’ Vita shook her head ‘—if you were remotely clued in to the real world like the rest of us you’d know too. He made squillions when he sold his web stuff to that multimedia conglomerate.’ She looked sly. ‘How did the two of you meet anyway?’
Bella shook her head. She sure didn’t want to go there. ‘It was nothing. It’s over. This was just him being nice.’
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‘I don’t think a guy like Owen would be organising your family for you if it was over—he wouldn’t want us getting the wrong idea.’
‘I haven’t spoken to him in weeks. Trust me, it’s over.’ This last gesture was just the way he worked, charming to the end, still helping her out. Only now she was trying even harder to forget the heat in that final kiss, trying to stop wondering what might have happened if she hadn’t got the part, if she hadn’t left town.
Thankfully her father was heading to the table carrying a tray laden with glasses and nibbles. Talk returned to the show and the tour.
She got to the theatre early as usual the next day.
‘This parcel arrived for you last night too—sorry I didn’t get it to you sooner.’ The security guy at the theatre door collared her as she made her way in.
‘Oh, that’s fine,’ she answered, heart hammering as she recognised the handwriting on the packet, trying not to snatch the thing out of his hands. She hurried to her dressing room, ripped the end of the bag and tipped the contents out.
A soft toy tiger bounced onto the table. She picked up the plush creature. There was a small card on a ribbon around his neck. She read it. ‘Break a leg.’
She didn’t need her leg breaking as well, thanks very much. She already had a broken heart. That was more than enough. She tipped the bag upside down and shook it again. Nothing else. No other message. It wasn’t even signed. There was no return address on the back.
Bastard. She tossed the tiger across the room. She’d asked him not to contact her, all the while been hoping he would and now he had and with what—a damn toy? For the child he thought she was? She’d wanted more—she’d wanted so much more. This almost felt worse than nothing.
Almost. She frowned at the tiger. Why had she thought that he’d taken her seriously? But for about five minutes there he’d really seemed to want to believe in her and her party business. Hell, he’d even offered to help her paint a jungle mural on his warehouse wall, for heaven’s sake.
So what did he mean by this? She was too scared to try to figure it out and too stupid not to start hoping some more.
The tiger seemed to be looking at her reproachfully. She rolled her eyes. It was a toy, for goodness’ sake. Inanimate. Stuffed. The reproachful look deepened.
‘Oh, all right, then.’ She stomped over to it. ‘Stop making me feel so guilty.’ She picked him up, fingers automatically smoothing his fur. ‘Don’t think you’re sleeping in my bed, though.’
The nights started to blur together. After the excitement of the opening, the thrill of the first reviews, they settled into the performances, tried not to get stale. And the reality of her new life hit her.
She was lonely. The show lasted nearly two hours. The applause lasted maybe ten minutes at the most. There was no real contact or interaction with the audience. The cast and crew were fabulous, fun. They were a kind of family. But she couldn’t quite get into it. Why was it that things were never quite how you imagined they would be?
Early in the mornings that followed, she snuggled deeper into her bed, hugged Tiger that little bit closer, and dreamed.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
IT WAS the matinee performance and Bella was taking the lead for the first time. She swallowed her nerves, but found they got stuck in her throat. So she stood in the wings and remembered the fierce look on Owen’s face when he’d told her she had to believe in herself.
Believe. Believe. Believe.
As the opening music started she closed her eyes, whispered it to herself one more time and then stepped onto the stage. Looking on it afterwards, the whole thing was a blur. But backstage everyone was effusive in their congratulations and support. Even the director was pleased and told her that if she kept up like that she’d be getting bigger parts very soon. Bittersweet success flavoured her mood as she tripped down the corridor to the dressing rooms.
She stopped. Owen was leaning against the wall outside her door.
