“I mean, Erika said she wouldn’t make me do it, but it’s what the script calls for, and I don’t want the producers or directors to think I’m a prude. I mean, it’s not like everyone is going to see them. My back is to the audience for most of it. The only person who can really see them is Connor.”
He laughs, short and bitter. “Just Connor.”
“I can wear pasties.”
“What the fuck are pasties?”
“You know, sticker things that cover my nipples.”
He laughs again. “Oh, well, that’s okay then.”
I drop my head. I almost want him to yell. That would be easier to deal with than this quiet, sarcastic fury.
“Ethan—”
“No, you’re right, Cassie,” he says and holds up his hands. “It’s no big deal. My girlfriend is going to be topless in front of hundreds of people, but the only person who’ll get a good look at her boobs is the one guy who’s probably been beating off to images of her since the first day they met. No big deal. I have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“You don’t. So he sees my boobs. So what? You’re shirtless with him in your scene, too. Hell, he kisses your damn chest.”
“You sound jealous.”
“I am jealous. I hate seeing you do that sort of stuff with another person. Even Connor. But I know it doesn’t mean anything.”
“That’s because Connor and I hate each other! Him ogling you is completely different. You don’t hate him, and he sure as shit doesn’t hate you.”
I sit down next to him. I don’t know what to say to make it better.
He sighs and rubs his face. “Can I at least see the script?”
I hand it to him and watch his face as he skims through it. I know there’s stuff in it he won’t like, but forewarned is forearmed, right?
He gets about halfway through when his frown reaches epic proportions.
He points to the stage directions. “Marla removes her shirt and bra. Christian sketches her, while glancing up with obvious lust. ‘The more I stared, the more beautiful she became. The more I reminded myself that she was married, the less it mattered. She was more than my model. She was my muse.’ He walks over to her. She’s unresponsive as he touches her body. ‘The longer I painted her, the more realistic my fantasies became. Every stroke of my brush made my fingers tingle like they were caressing her.’ He runs his fingers up her side then cups her breasts.”
Ethan shakes his head and takes a deep breath before continuing. “‘Of course, the Marla in my mind wanted me just as much. She did things to me, too.’ She stands. ‘Wonderful things.’ She unbuttons his shirt and caresses his chest. ‘Things that real-Marla would never do.’ She kneels in front of him. The lights dim as she unfastens his pants and begins to pleasure him orally. ‘If only she’d do these wonderful fantasy things. Betray her husband. Let me love her. I could give her so much. A world of beauty, and pleasure, and magnificent art. Everything. Everything.’ Lights flash suddenly as he orgasms, then go to black.”
He closes the script and drops his head. “Fuck me.”
He’s not angry anymore. Just … resigned.
I want so badly to reassure him, but I know that if the situation was reversed, there isn’t much anyone could say to make me feel better. Instead I kiss his cheek, his brows, his forehead, then his lips. He pulls me into his lap and hugs me, and when our chests press together, I can feel the too-fast rhythm of fear in his heartbeat.
“Do you want me to tell Erika I can’t do it?” I ask as I stroke his hair.
He squeezes me tighter and presses his forehead against my heart. “No. The script is amazing. It’s a great role for you. Awesome role for Connor as well. That’s why Erika chose it. I just … I hate thinking of him touching you. Jesus, watching you pretend to blow him is probably going to kill me.”
He leans back and closes his eyes. When I touch his face, it’s hot. I can see he’s trying to defuse his emotions, but it’s not something that’s easily done.
“I wish Erika had cast you instead of Connor.”
He opens his eyes and runs his fingertips over my lips. “Me too.”
That night, when we make love, he’s different. Rougher. Like he’s trying to fuck the thought of Connor and me out of his brain. Afterward, he doesn’t talk. Just holds me.
The next morning, he seems calmer about it all, but I don’t miss the haunted look in his eyes. He looks like someone who’s foreseen a terrible tragedy and doesn’t know how to stop it.
I take in a shaky breath.
“Cassie…?” Dr. Kate’s voice is quiet.
“It’s natural for you to get emotional about these memories. That’s the purpose of these sessions. To expose the triggers for your anger and try to confront them. Letting the emotion out so we can deal with it is part of the process.”
“I just don’t see how he could have ruined us twice. Once I could have almost forgiven, but the second time? Why did he even bother trying again, if he knew he couldn’t do it?”
She gives me a sympathetic nod. “Even the best motivations can be tarnished by hurtful outcomes. Have you ever heard the term ‘unresolved abandonment’?”