Westchester, New York
The Grove
He hasn’t touched me for nearly a week. Well, he’s touched me, but not the right way. Not how I need him to.
He’s shutting down and pulling back, and it makes me sick to think I’m just as powerless to stop it now as I was last time.
Still, I have one thing to try. One desperate play in what I’m suspecting is an unwinnable game.
“I’m going to tell Erika I’m passing on Portrait.”
He looks up from his book and frowns at me. “What?”
“I’m passing. I’ll take L.A. instead.”
“Cassie—”
“I mean, it’s still an amazing gig. Plus, it’s not like Broadway’s going anywhere. I’ll get there some other way.”
He lowers his book and sighs. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t turn it down. Especially if you think you’re doing it for me.”
“I think I’m doing it for us. I know how crazy it must make you to think about me doing that show with Connor eight times a week.”
“So what? Making me part of this decision is ridiculous. It’s your career. You need to do it.”
“Not if it means losing you.”
He rubs his eyes. “If you don’t take it, you’ll lose me anyway, because I’ll never forgive myself for fucking up something so important. Please, Cassie. Take it.”
“But—”
“No, this is not up for discussion. You’ve been given an amazing opportunity, and I’m not going to let you sabotage it because of me. No fucking way. You tell Erika you’re taking it, or I will.”
He slams his book closed and shoves it in his bag.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“But what about our Arts in Society final?”
“I’ll study by myself.”
“Why are you so angry with me?”
He slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to me. “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with me. Angry that you think you need to sacrifice your career for me.”
“Ethan—”
“No, Cassie, this is fucking crazy. This isn’t love. It’s fear. You’re afraid of my reaction, and you’re letting it rule your judgment. What the hell am I doing to you?”
“You’re not doing anything! Sometimes to make things work, you have to make compromises.”
“This isn’t a compromise! This is you giving up your dream for me, and it pisses me off that you think you have to. That I’ve made you think that.”
“You haven’t, I just—”
“Please stop. I’ve tried really fucking hard to just breathe through this thing with Connor, but I can’t, and you know it. But this? It isn’t the solution.”
“Then what is? Is there one? Because you’re really starting to worry me here.”
His expression softens, but he doesn’t reassure me. I don’t know if he can at this point.
“I have to go.”
“Wait.”
He stops, one hand on the door. I go to him and make him look at me. He does it grudgingly.
“I love you.” I stand on my toes to kiss him. He inhales and wraps an arm around me, and even though he kisses me back, it doesn’t last long. When he pulls away, his hand is still on the doorknob.
“I love you, too,” he says as he cups my cheek. “That’s the problem.”
He pulls open the door and heads down to his car. I watch him until he’s out of sight.
Present Day
New York City, New York
Graumann Theater
When I arrive at the theater, I dump my bag in my dressing room and go to find Ethan. He’s been helping me with some meditation techniques, and even though I’m not very good at them, he’s a patient teacher.
Of course, Tristan lost his shit when he found out about it. Well, to be honest, he rarely loses his shit, but he did go quiet for a long time and stare at me in a hostile manner.
He’s been trying to get me to meditate since the night we met, and I’ve always dismissed it as a waste of time. Needless to say, Ethan and I aren’t the most popular people in his book right now.
I go to Ethan’s dressing room, but he’s not there. His voice is echoing somewhere in the theater, so I follow the sound.
When I get backstage, I see him talking on his phone and pacing.
“I don’t know about this. I mean, the show’s only been open a month. We’re barely getting on our feet. Yes, I know it’s a fantastic opportunity but…” He scrubs his face and sighs. “I am listening to you. I get that. And no, this has nothing to do with Cassie. I just … I don’t know if the time is right for this.”
On hearing my name, I slink back into the shadows.
He finishes the conversation by saying, “I’ll think about it,” and I quietly slip back into his dressing room as he hangs up.
When he appears a minute later, he seems surprised to see me.
“Oh, hey.”
“Hi. You okay?”
“Yeah. Good.” He puts his phone on the counter and sits on the floor. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
He hardly looks at me. We go through the routine of our meditation, but it’s obvious his mind is somewhere else.
My meditation is crap. My breathing is choppy, and all I can do is wonder what the hell that conversation was about and why he’s hiding it from me.