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Or maybe I’m telling myself that so I can pretend I don’t have a choice. So I don’t have to give up on the person I’ve needed to become. So I don’t have to face who I am.
Shit.
I’m doing it again, putting my reputation first, my job first, Michael’s hopes first. It will never make me happy. It never made him happy.
What if I made a different choice? Maybe if I just let myself be myself, if I leave Michael’s version of Gabriel Sinclair behind, I’d stop feeling like a fraud and a failure. I could choose happiness.
I could choose Ashley. Even if she’d no longer choose me.
My thoughts are a jumbled mess so I speak slowly, “I would tell her she was right about me. When she needed me, instead of standing by her, I chose to protect myself. I told myself my image was more important than how I felt about her, or how she felt about me, so I ended things. She trusted me, believed in me, and I refused to do the same for her. I was deliberately cruel when she deserved kindness and compassion.” I can see Rose’s frown as she takes a half step toward us before David stops her with a tap on her arm.
Cora’s eyes are wide and hopeful. I manage a small smile for her, and then I throw out the script. “I would tell Ashley I’m sorry I put her second. I’m sorry I didn’t stand by her. And I’m sorry I blamed her and refused to see what was right in front of me.” I take a deep breath, letting it out in a carefully controlled exhale. “The truth is, Julia, I felt I had to be this perfect person to earn the love of people who already loved me. I owed it to my aunt and uncle for taking me in, for giving me a home and an opportunity at a life I could never have dreamed of. And I let that need get in the way of what I want in life. I hurt someone special. I became someone I didn’t like. I see that now and I want to change. I’m going to change. And maybe I can’t live up to Michael Sinclair’s standards, but I like to think, if he’d lived, he’d understand. That he could be proud of the man I’m still becoming.”
Julia smiles at me. “Tell me abouthim. Who is the real Gabriel Sinclair?”
“He’s complicated,” I admit. “But he’s trying.”
“Would he rescue a kitten from a tree?”
“Of course.”
“And help little old ladies with their groceries?”
I laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. “If any of them will trust me again, yes.”
Julia’s eyes sparkle as she leans forward again. “But he also rides a motorcycle, vandalizes public restrooms, and loves a reality TV villain?”
My jaw clenches. Off set, Rose silently slaps a hand against her forehead.
“She’s not a villain,” I say firmly.
“But you love her?”
“That’s not something you tell someone for the first time on TV,” I say pointedly.
Julia takes the hint and moves on, after a smile that says she knows the answer. “You’ve been America’s golden boy in rom-coms, dramas, and comedies for years. You’re currently filming Warwick, where you’re playing the titular hero and I understand the director is taking the franchise into some darker waters. Are you interested in dipping your toes into some darker roles? What’s next for Gabriel Sinclair?”
“I don’t know,” I say with a shrug. “But there will be something next for me because this industry doesn’t care what I’ve done or who I am inside. It will reward me with sympathy and second chances because that’s what it’s set up to do. Because I’m a white man who inherited wealth and a name that means something. Because society can find something redeemable in me but condemnable in Ashley. The double standards in this industry, in our society, are wrong.”
My publicist is waving her arms at me to stop talking, but I have nothing left to say that hasn’t been said before by smarter people than me. I don’t have any answers or solutions. Nothing new to contribute.
Julia thanks me for talking to her and reminds everyone they can see me inThe Last Best Man, which is out in cinemas everywhere next week, and the interview is over.
I thank Julia and head straight for David.
“I’m getting a philodendron,” he announces before I can say anything. “Can you tell your aunt I don’t need to go to the shelter tomorrow? I have allergies. To everything with fur.”
Cora’s biting back a smile. “Reptiles don’t have fur.”
David pales.
“Sorry,” I say to my aunt, “but I need David, and trust me, he’s going to wish he was sneezing over dogs and cats with you.”
Cora’s smile lights up her face. “You’re going after her?”
“Yeah.” I take a deep breath and shakily blow it out, turning to David. “I need a flight to New York. Tonight, early morning, whatever you can get.”
“You’re due on set tomorrow,” he points out. “And the next day.”
