The first one is from a repertory company in Los Angeles that wants me to become a permanent member. They perform contemporary pieces and work on a profit-share basis.
When I open the other envelope, I have to read it three times to fully understand what it says. It’s from a producer. He wants to do an off-Broadway production of Portrait. Fully professional. Five weeks of rehearsal, plus a tentative six-week season. He’s already secured the rights and wants Connor and me to be his stars.
I look over at Ethan. He’s frowning at one of his letters. I say his name, and he looks up.
“What is it?” I ask.
He holds up the two pieces of paper. “Well, in the first one, the Lowbridge Shakespeare company wants me to join their next European tour, doing Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Yeah.”
“Then why do you look shell-shocked?”
He shakes his head. “The other one is … it’s the New York Shakespeare Theater. They want me to do Hamlet.”
“Which role?”
He looks dazed. “The lead. I guess they liked my monologue.”
“Oh my God, Ethan, that’s incredible!”
“Yeah. I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. You’re amazing, and your offers prove that. Why aren’t you happy?”
“I am, it’s just … I have no idea which one to choose. The European tour is a longer contract, but the other one … I mean, it’s Hamlet. For years, I’ve been saying I’d give my left ball to play that role.”
“Then do it. It’s one of the most coveted male roles out there. And you would absolutely hit it out of the park.”
He shrugs. “I hope I would. But, hey, what about you?”
“Well, I’ve been offered a spot in The Roundhouse in L.A.”
“Seriously? Those guys are impressive. Their productions are cutting edge. And the other one?”
“Well, the other one is off-Broadway.”
“Are you kidding? Jesus, Cassie, that’s great!”
“Yeah, I know…”
“I’m sensing a ‘but.’”
I take a breath. “It’s for Portrait.”
He blinks. “As in, Portrait with…”
“Connor. Yeah. They want both of us.”
He’s really trying to keep his expression happy. “For how long?”
“Eleven weeks to start. Then, if it does well … who knows? A few months. A year if we’re really lucky.”
He nods. “Wow. A year. That’s … wow. Amazing opportunity.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
A knot forms in my stomach. It feeds off the furrow in his brow and the dark energy that swirls around him.
He almost manages to shake it off when he takes my hand in both of his. “Seriously, Cassie, it’s unbelievable. I’m really happy for you.”
“Really?”
He smiles. “Really.”
He’s very convincing. Then again, he’s an excellent actor.
Present Day
New York City, New York
The Apartment of Cassandra Taylor “I can’t look.”
“Me neither.”
“Where the hell is Cody when you need him?”
“I’m hoping he’s asleep. It’s six a.m.”
Ethan and I are sitting cross-legged in the middle of my living room with a stack of newspapers and printouts from various blogs sitting between us.
Reviews.
The verdict on our show.
“Okay, you read the Times,” I say. “I really can’t handle that.”
“Fine. Then you have to read the Post,” says Ethan. “That guy shook my hand for way too long last night. And he stroked it a little.”
“Fine.”
We both pick up a paper and flick to the arts section. I read the Post review. As I do, my face becomes hotter and hotter. When I reach the end, I glance over at Ethan. He’s frowning at the Times and shaking his head.
He puts the paper down and exhales. “Well … that was … unexpected.”
“He liked it?”
“No. He loved it. Loved everything about it, except for the script, but said all the other elements worked so well, it didn’t matter.”
“But he liked us?”
He nods. “Absolutely. And I quote: ‘The two lead actors have the kind of mesmerizing chemistry that will have audiences returning to this show over and over again. Most of the people I spoke to on opening night have already planned their return visit. It’s that kind of magic that will ensure this show has a long and prosperous future. A must-see night of theater.’”
“Wow.”
“Exactly.”
The rest of the reviews are all pretty similar. They all love the show, particularly the chemistry between Ethan and me. By the time we’re finished reading, I’m so embarrassed by all the praise, I feel like I need to splash cold water on my face.
I also feel strangely emotional.
“Hey.” Ethan touches my face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Just … happy, you know?”
“You look like you’re going to cry.”
“Shut up. Talking about it will make it happen.” I blink and will the tears to go away.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize! That’s worse than talking about it. Dammit.” I blink faster, but it’s too late. The tears fall in fat streams down my cheeks. Ethan cups my face and wipes them away. It only makes it worse.
He pulls me into his arms, and I cry. It’s been a long time since I cried happy tears. He presses his lips against my forehead and strokes my hair.
It feels so good … so absolutely and emphatically right, it makes me cry harder.
Three Years Earlier