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“That’s not happening,” I reply.
“The only way it’s not happening is if your ass is back in LA.”
I run my hands through my hair in frustration. Part of me wants to stay here, but the other partneedsto be in LA and continue living my dream. But at what expense?
Sam sighs. “Look, I know your hometown is important to you, but your life is in LA.”
There’s a long pause.
“How about I make you a deal. Come back to LA after Christmas and finish production for three months, make an appearance at the premiere, then during your break in between shots, you can go back to Colorado until they need you back on the set.”
Damnit. That sounds reasonable but leaving Scar when I just got her to talk to me is going to kill me and hurt our growing relationship in the process. There’s a beep through the phone. As Sam starts speaking, I pull my phone from my ear and glance at the screen.
Fucking Skylar.
“Mav—”
"Damn it," I interrupted her. "Skylar is on the line. She hasn't stopped calling me since I've been home. Do you know what the hell she wants besides making my life a living hell?"
Sam is also Skylar’s agent, so she is very involved in all the roles that are offered and the ones we take on. When she doesn’t say anything, her silence starts to seep through my skin, blood in my veins burning.
“Sam,” I say in annoyance.
She sighs. “Don’t bite my head off.”
“Too late. Spit it out,” I grit through my teeth.
“Skylar is going to the premiere.”
“O-kay...”
“With you.”
Fuck that.
“No, the fuck she is,” I snap. There’s no way I’m showing up with my deranged ex.
“Maverick. You know how these things work. It’s a publicity stunt to make the world believe what they want to. You’re going to get dressed up, smile at the cameras, and then you can leave. It’s just for one night. Once the premiere is over, you can announce the breakup.”
I can feel a low growl building up in the pit of my stomach, threatening to spill out. Skylar has been incessantly trying to claw her way back into my life no matter how many times I push her out of my life. When I moved to LA, it was like a dream come true. The city's bright lights were calling out, beckoning me to take my place in the limelight. But everything has changed. The bright future I imagined now seems like a distant memory.
My best friend died in a way that could be seen in a horror movie.
I left Scar behind to deal with the aftermath.
And suddenly my dream didn’t seem so important anymore after losing the people who mattered most to me.
A heavy sigh leaves me. “Fine.”
“I promise, it will be over before you know it. Have a good Thanksgiving.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I respond and then hang up.
As I slowly turn the doorknob and step out of the dimly lit room, a sudden heaviness settles upon my chest. It is as if the air around me has thickened, making every breath feel labored and difficult. The weight has physically manifested the task ahead—breaking my Tinkerbelle's heart.
I have done this before, but the thought of causing her pain again makes me sick with guilt. I almost feel the heat rising to my face as I anticipate the look of hurt and betrayal that will surely cross her delicate features. The task requires courage and a strong resolve, one that I am not sure I possess.
But there is no choice. No matter how painful it might be, the truth has to be told. I take a deep breath and brace myself for what is to come.
