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“That’s kind of you,” I say. The waiter sets my glass of wine on the table and I thank him. Nic accepts his beer with a head tilt and the waiter leaves us in uncomfortable silence.
Nic inspects his beer label and I can’t believe I ever imagined myself in love with this guy. His reserve is irritating.
“So you told Timothy you’d ask me along to this meeting?” I ask, mostly to fill the silence. Okay, because I’m dying of curiosity.
He shakes his head.
Fucking hilarious.
He has no idea he’s bringing the wrath of his brother-in-law down on his head.
A part of me wants to tell him Timothy did everything in his power to keep me away, that not a single person in my family offered me an ounce of help or support—that Nic never offered me anything until now—but I don’t.
Not that this will stop me from taking what I suspect is the job he’s buying me. If I want it, that is. Honestly, it better be good. I deserve something good right about now.
The people we’re waiting for arrive and they’re an eclectic mix of eagerness and experience. They smile at me when Nic introduces me.
The movie they want money for is a family movie with slightly more adult humor. An action romp they compare to a few films from the eighties, but updated. I try to pay attention as they talk about it, but I can’t stop my thoughts from turning to Gabe. Anxiety pinches my stomach, and I feel sick at the thought of never seeing him again.
“I think Ashley would be perfect for Brittney,” Nic says in a tone that, at least to the experienced at the table, suggests his backing demands it. “She’s the bad guy,” he says to me.
Of course, she is—probably the gold-digging stepmom—and of course, I’m perfect to play her. I smile, but my face feels like it’s going to crack. I’m so fucking sick of being the bad guy.
One of the screenwriters nods, but the director, a wiry girl who barely looks like she can legally drink, has a thoughtful expression on her face. They promise to talk about it, Nic promises to think about how much he’s willing to put in.
I make no promises. The role is big enough to tempt me, but I don’t want to be the bad guy. I don’t think I’ll take it. Unless I’m desperate.
The problem is, I don’t know if I’m desperate. That sense of situational awareness I’ve always had is gone, and it’s terrifying.
The rest of the dinner passes in pleasant conversation. Everyone is nice enough to me, but I can’t kick Gabe out of my head. I want to know what he’s doing, what he’s thinking. If he’ll call me back. If he’s done with me.
Dinner is cleared away and everyone gets down to business over drinks. This doesn’t involve me, so I pull out my phone. Nothing from Gabe.
Why does everything have to be so damn complicated with him? Or maybe it’s not complicated at all. I don’t mean as much to him as he does to me. He’s living his life and I need to live mine.
Nic picks up the bill and promises to be in touch. He leads me out to the car, climbing in after me.
When we arrive at my house, I’m so ready to be home where I can relax and not worry about what my face is doing that I practically jump out before the car stops. “Thanks, Nic, for everything tonight.”
He brushes it off.
“Oh,” he says as if he’s just remembered, turning to motion down the street. “I share an agent with Celia, so I had a few calls placed in your name on her behalf. Hopefully, the bloodsuckers will leave you alone, but if they don’t, let me know.”
I glance, and sure enough, no one is parked up watching me with a camera or phone in hand. Celia went to war with the paparazzi after they published stories about her affair back in the day, and won—they won’t go near her now. “Thanks.”
He has the driver wait until I’m inside before driving away.
All at once, I’m exhausted. Today has been too much. I want Gabe’s arms around me. I want to hear his voice, feel it buzz against my skin. I want to tell him how tired I am of the barbed wire cage I thought I could escape.
And I can’t.
Can’t leave the cage behind, can’t talk to Gabe. He didn’t call me back after I hung up on him. We’re done.
My phone rings and it’s the number of the director from tonight.
“I don’t want you for Brittney,” she blurts out.
“You don’t?”
