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I do wipe it away with the back of my hand, though, when I’m through chewing.
“We met a little over a year ago,” I tell him. “It was right before I started filming 682.” I nearly choke on the movie name, but I quickly compose myself. “She actually came to a filming of On Call, the—”
“Medical drama you were on.”
I lift my brows and take another slow bite of my pizza.
Cade just shrugs. “I did my research.”
I suppose, though…the show was one of the biggest, long-running medical dramas on television, having just wrapped it’s eighteenth season. I started on the show when I was all of five years old.
Cade picks up a slice of pizza, only to put it down again, and turns in his stool to face me. In doing so, his knee brushes the outside of my leg and I fight the need to jump in my seat.
“They’re saying filming will only take six weeks. Eight at most. You’re a fantastic actress, Tatum—”
“Dylan.” My given name is out of my mouth before I can stop it, and I feel my face heating at the realization I just gave it to him.
“Huh?”
I shake my head and look down, but then give in. “My name is Dylan.” I look up at him and tip my head to the side. “I’m sorry, Cade,” I say, shaking my head slowly. “I’m done acting. Tatum O’Malley is no more. I don’t want to be her anymore.”
His brows fold together. “Is this like, an identity crisis? At eighteen?” He has the audacity to sound cynical.
“I’m just done.” I try to keep it at that.
I don’t want to go into the why.
I don’t want to talk about how I hate the life.
How I wish I’d stuck with television.
How the movie ruined my view of the world.
How I didn’t have a thick-enough skin for the ill-reported headlines.
“Again, Cade, I’m really sorry you wasted your time, but I won’t do the movie. I won’t be doing any movies. I’m done. I’m hanging up my hat. Tatum O’Malley is dead and gone.”
“But why?” He clearly looks perplexed. “You’re a fantastic actress, Ta—Dylan.”
“Thank you but…” I shake my head and decide to leave it at that. “Thank you.”
“When are you going to…” He waves his hand in the direction of my midsection. “When do you have the baby? Maybe I can talk them into holding off filming.”
Men. They just don’t care. “You’re not listening to me. I’m not doing the movie.”
“Don’t make a rash decision. You’re great at what you do.”
“You can repeat that until you’re blue in the face, Cade, but it doesn’t change anything. I’m done.” I push away from the counter and away from him. I need to move. I need to get away.
Instead, I just wash my hands.
“It’s in your blood, Dylan,” he tried. “You’ve been on set since you were a little girl. You can’t just stop.”
I whirl on him, even though there are a good ten feet between us. “You gave up riding. You just stopped. Tell me you didn’t love that more than acting.”
I didn’t mean to blurt that. I didn’t mean to let him know I’d looked him up. That I knew who he was, more so than the actor persona.
“That’s different.”
