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I stop, pulling her to a halt. “I’m not letting her do anything. She made it very clear there’s nothing between us, and I’m respecting that. I may be a huge fan, but I’m not a stalker.”
She pats my arm with a sad nod. “It’s hard to be involved with a celebrity. They get kind of paranoid. And to be fair, there’s plenty of evidence many people are looking for the wrong things… But actors are real people, too. People who just want to be loved but are too insecure to believe someone might actually love them for themselves.” She shakes her head. “How’s that line go? Nica is just a girl, standing in front of a boy, asking him to love her.”
My heart rises, then crashes again. “I’m hardly a boy. And she pushed me away. Besides, that line doesn’t work when it’s delivered by her mother.”
“Is that what this is about? The age difference?” She laughs. “Nick Holmes was twenty years older than me when we married.”
I bite back the urge to say, “Look how that turned out.” I try to make my face a blank, but I’m not successful.
She smiles. “I know what you’re thinking. But my current husband is only three years younger than Nick. Some couples work. Some don’t. Some people shouldn’t be part of a couple at all. From what Nica tells me, you know that better than most.”
I stop. Nica told her mother about Judy?
She chuckles again and pulls me forward. “Don’t worry. She didn’t tell me all your secrets. In fact, she said she didn’t know much about your ex, just that you stuck it out for a long time. As far as I’m concerned, that shows you’re a good match for Nica. She’s going to need someone who can help her work through her self-doubt. You know that’s what this is about, right?”
I look around, as if “this” will appear suddenly before me. “I’m not—I—what are you talking about?”
“Nica idolized her father growing up. Even after he walked out, he would show up in her life and whisk her away into a magical land where everyone is wealthy and beautiful. Bel Air or the Ranch—they’re both overwhelmingly attractive when you’re longing for some glamor.” She grimaces. “And it didn’t help that everyone commented on the resemblance. So, Nica grew up thinking she was just like her daddy. In love with the glamor, but fickle.”
She pauses, drawing me to a halt. “She walked away from your relationship because it was getting too real, and she’s afraid she can’t live up to that. With Nicholas Holmes as a role model, you shouldn’t be too surprised. But I think she’s coming around. She might need a little help from you—a reminder that you’re here, waiting for her.”
I pull my arm away. “What if I’m done waiting?”
She gives me a shrewd look. “Are you?”
The stage manager’s voice booms out of the speakers. “Actors, take your marks for act two!”
“You’d better go.” Loretta gives my shoulder a little push. “Think about what I’ve said. Take your time—as long as you don’t take too much. When the show wraps, she’ll be headed back to LA.”
I try to put her words out of my mind as I return to the stage, but that tiny spark of hope has blossomed into a candle flame. Maybe I can salvage this.
The love scene is excruciating. Nica is still in “professional actor” mode. She turns in an amazing performance—even I believe Maria is in love with the captain—while somehow making it one hundred percent clear Nica and Matt aren’t involved at all. I don’t know how she can make the relationship feel real while simultaneously maintaining a wall between us. The kiss is just as strange and cold as last night.
I go through the rest of the act on autopilot, hitting my marks and cues like clockwork. At the end, Edith pulls me aside again as the others gather their things and depart. I try to focus on what she’s saying, but my gaze strays to the little yellow car waiting by the entrance. When Nica gets in and pulls away, my heart drops to my toes.
I drag my attention back to Edie. “—wooden and mechanical today. After last night’s performance, I’m disappointed. I trust you can tap into whatever you found and bring it back for opening night.”
“I’ll try.”
Her eyes narrow. “Do not try. Do.”
My brother runs up the steps to the stage, stopping at my shoulder. “Are you trying to quote Yoda? Because you’ve got it wrong.”
Edith gives Blake a stern look and slaps his shoulder. “I do not quote puppets, young man.”
“Muppets,” Blake and I say together. He smirks and offers a high five which I can’t leave hanging.
Edith shakes her head as if we’re hopeless and sails away to speak with the stage manager.
“What are you doing here?” I ask as Blake and I descend the backstage steps.
He directs me toward the parking lot. “I’m here to take you camping.”
“I can’t go camping. I have to work tomorrow. And I have a show tomorrow night. And I haven’t packed anything.” I follow him across the grass toward his glossy SUV.
With a grin, he beeps a fob, and the lights flash. “I’ve got your stuff in here—Eva let me in to pack a change of clothing and grab your sleeping bag.”
“But work—”
