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I sigh, reaching for a second beer. “No. I’m just tired and pissed off.”
“In a few months, no one will care.”
“I will.”
She makes a disgusted sound. “So you aren’t this perfect golden boy actor. You’re something better. Or you could be if you’d embrace who you are.”
Who I am needs to remain buried. “You don’t get it.”
“Neither do you,” she says, all the soft concern gone from her voice, replaced by cold steel. “Michael’s dead—you can’t gain or lose his love and esteem now. And frankly, he wasn’t that great.”
Irritation flares because that man saved me. “You didn’t know him.”
“I know you.”
“No, you don’t.” If she knew me, she’d understand why this is so important to me. Maybe she wasn’t listening, those long hours in the car, or when we talked late into the night. Michael saved my life and all he ever asked in return was that I live up to his ideals.
Ashley sighs. “I don’t want to fight with you, okay? Can we just talk?”
“Talk.”
“Gabe—” There’s a whine in her voice, but it breaks in a sigh. “What happens now?”
I have no fucking clue. I’m such a mess, but seeing her isn’t going to help me fix this. When Warwick starts filming, I won’t have the time or energy to do it. “I need some time alone. A few months to get my head on straight. We can come up with a plan. I’ll talk to my team about rehabilitating your reputation, too, and eventually—”
“—we can be together?” she asks with a dry laugh.
I rub my eyes. “Yeah.” I don’t believe it though. I don’t see a world where Ash can stand in the spotlight with me without dragging me down more than she already has. She has to be my secret, just like Lilah was Michael’s, if my accomplishments are going to mean anything. And they have to mean something. I can’t throw away everything Michael gave me.
There’s a long moment of silence. “No.”
My heart sinks. “Why?”
“Gabe, I’ve—” her voice breaks off into a strangled, frustrated sound. “I’ve been trying to be a better person, without becoming someone I’m not. But no one wants to see me any other way, and honestly? I don’t give a fuck. And neither should you. Just…be with me.”
“I can’t.”
“Try. Be yourself and you might be happier. Stop caring what the world thinks.”
“Easy to say when the world hates you.”
There’s a long moment of silence and I grip my hair, mussing it up in frustration. I shouldn’t have said that, but I’m mad enough that I meant it.
“It’s not easy,” she says, her voice tight as she struggles to keep control. “It has never been easy. I hate the death threats and the internet trolls. I hate that I’ve hurt people I love, that I can’t get close to anyone. I hate how everyone sees me as a caricature, and maybe I deserve it because I played up the role I’ve been cast in since I was a child, but I don’t want to erase my past or hide behind some persona. I want to be myself, and when you ask me to wait until I’m somehow good enough for you? I love you, Gabe, but I can’t.”
I prop my elbow on the table, my head in my hand. “Ash. It’s only for a few months while I’m filming Warwick.” Christ, she waited years for Nic, why can’t she give me a few months? If she meant it when she said she loved me, she’d wait.
“I’ll be just as toxic as I am right now. Nothing is ever going to change enough for us to be together.”
A part of me recognizes that she’s right. Our relationship should’ve stayed fake, we should’ve kept things professional, because this is never going to work between us. “Ashley—”
“I’m not going to be your shameful secret, Gabe. I want everything and I won’t settle for less. So what’s it going to be? Me, or your golden cage? Because you can’t have both.”
Something in her voice ticks me off. It’s the bravado—not even a quiver or a hint of uncertainty. She thinks she’s got me.
“You’re giving me an ultimatum. Are you sure about that?”
“You’ve given me no choice.”
