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She holds up a hand. “Attraction. Definitely mutual. He meant to be subtle and, to most eyes, he was.” Tapping the corner of her own eye, she laughs. “These see all, dearie.”
“We shouldn’t talk about this.”
Deidre pats my knee. “Let me ease your mind straight off. I haven’t said anything about the two of you, and I don’t intend to. You can relax.” Her full lips stretch into a smile. “And for the record, I think you’re grand together.”
It’s useless to deny my connection to Jack in front of Deidre anymore. I do believe she’s trying to help, not out us. I need a mom right now, and she’s the closest thing around. I decide to trust her. “Okay.”
She settles back in her seat. “You both tested the waters and liked the way it felt. Dove in pretty deep, from what I saw run across your face on set today.”
I stare at my lap. “Yep.”
She raises my chin with a finger. “And all the while you were held prisoner on that set, you had a dark, little song playing in your head with all the reasons you can’t be involved with Jack O’Leary.”
I nod.
“I’ve been called a human can opener when it comes to digging down to the core of a person, and I know Jack. He’s as real as they come. If he was swimming in the deep water with you, he meant to.”
“It was a huge mistake. Too fast. Too intense.”
Deidre lays a finger on my lips to quiet me. “Only a fool overanalyzes such a gift.”
I search her eyes for any intention other than brutal honesty. I’m met with a direct, calm insistence that she believes every word she says.
“Darling, it doesn’t take much to sense an unhealed gouge inside you that I’m guessing wasn’t put there by Jack. Don’t you see it’s that war wound trying to convince your brain you’re stepping in a pile of something best avoided, not truth?”
I try to hold back, but the damn bursts. Freeing a handful of tissues from the box on the table, I mop up the worst of the damage. “Meg found out about us.”
“Ahh,” says Deidre, her lips twisting in an unattractive way. “And the witch hopped on her broomstick, heaving fireballs at the two of you.”
“She’s not a witch for doing her job. Everything she said against us makes perfect sense for the good of the show.” I blow my nose and breathe in long and slow to reset. “Jack is supposed to be a super magnet to attract fans, this uber available god walking the Earth.”
She hands me another tissue and points to the pool on my chin. “Trust me, seeing the way Jack O’Leary looks at you, he’s anything but available.”
I dab at the puddle in the groove beneath my bottom lip. “That doesn’t matter anymore. We sneaked around and got caught.” I stare out the glass wall. “I want to belong here. I can’t get fired.”
Deidre closes her eyes and shakes her head. “You’ve broken up with him. I suspected this might be fresh wound licking.” She squeezes my shoulders. “Listen to me, Gillian. You don’t take risks or get into this state over someone who isn’t worth it.” Shaking me none too gently, she raises her voice. “You are in love, my dear.”
I pull away. “I can’t be.”
A smug look crosses her face. “Ah, denial. I love torturing characters until they drown in what you’re feeling right now. It’s all part of the process of earning the love.”
I preferred her sympathy. “Well, it’s a shitty part of the process.”
“Maybe, but when destiny finally grants that happy ending, it’s all the sweeter.”
“Destiny is crapping all over me. I have a script to write, and I’m a wreck. Every creative bone in my body is shattered and useless. How am I supposed to write a script when I can’t put a cohesive sentence together in my head?” Oh, my God, what if I can’t write the script? IsTraipse of Moonlightmy swan song? Iama one hit wonder.
“Oh, honey. Do not let your creative juices freeze over troubles with a man, even one as lovely as Jack.”
I sniff and dab. “That statement doesn’t exactly match up with your dedication to love and happy endings.”
She laughs. “In my books, loving a man makes my women have more confidence in themselves. You won’t catch me writing a woman giving up who she is for romance. That is not love. Love strengthens who you are. It doesn’t diminish the fire in a woman’s soul. It ignites a blaze.”
Deidre squeezes my upper arms so tightly I nearly cry out. “Use this misery. Use the passion that’s raging through you. Dump it all into Donal Cam and Nieve’s despair over losing each other.”
I blink until my eyes clear. She’s right. I’ll channel every negative morsel to feed my creativity, not squelch it. The roiling soup of awful rising up around me is exactly the right tone for the season finale.
“Go bring my people off the page, Gillian. Give me grit and pain and sorrow so thick there’s no getting through it.”
