“I still feel like I got shafted. By my lover, my best friend and my family, all at once.” His mouth twisted. “All you.”
Oh God. This was the problem with falling head over heels for a spectacularly good actor. He had a way with words that could cut her off at the knees.
“I trusted you. Against my better judgement.”
Ouch.
The room was so quiet that she thought she could hear the sound of her own heartbeat.
“However this started—” Richard was grim “—I can’t be your rebound relationship.”
“Rebound...?” she repeated blankly.
“Farmer.”
“Uh, has nothing to do with this.”
“Doesn’t he?”
“No. He doesn’t.” His face didn’t change. He didn’t believe her. Maybe didn’t want to believe her. “Do I throw your exes in your face all the damn time? What, am I just never going to be allowed to forget that mistake?”
“Do you want to forget about it?” Dark cynicism.
Lainie folded her arms, as much in need of comfort as to express her frustration. “I had.” She spoke slowly. “I almost had forgotten about the whole thing. I was too busy being happy.”
She sought for the right words. They were there, but she couldn’t say them. Not right now. “God. You’ve kind of got me over a barrel here.” She looked at the floor. “There are things I was going to say, and now I can’t, or they’d turn into bargaining chips. Like I’m just using them to get you to forgive me. If you even believed me.” She lifted her head, met the intensity of his gaze. “I won’t cheapen my feelings like that. They’re worth more than that.”
That caused a flicker of expression, but the cynicism was still deeply engrained when he spoke. “Sounds like a cop-out.”
Right.
She stood up straighter. “I’m going now.” She held up her hand with her thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Because you’re this close to pissing me off. And I don’t want to have more things to apologise for later.”
She turned at the door. He was still and watchful. “But I wouldn’t breathe too easy. This is not me giving up on us.” It was a vow. “I won’t turn my back on you.”
She wasn’t even tempted to cry on the Tube. She was beyond that. Fortunately, it wasn’t too full and she was able to find a seat. The exhaustion was a constant tug at her mind and muscles.
She couldn’t think. It was as if she was standing at a crossroads. Her life could go one of two ways from this point, and she didn’t dare visualise the dark route, in case it was encouraged into existence. The words teased at the recesses of her mind: What does my future look like, if he can’t get past this?
An elderly woman took a seat opposite her. She was carrying a mesh bag filled with cans of cat food, her hair was sticking straight out and her black trousers were covered with pet hair.
Lainie chose not to interpret that as a bad omen.
*
Richard dismissed Greg early after Lainie flounced out, plait flying, almost crackling with indignation and determination. He sat in the study for a long time, thinking. In a totally misguided move, he went so far as to smoke one of the cigars on the desk.
It was totally rank, did nothing to help clarify his thoughts, and he felt sick for the rest of the morning.
But by the time he left for the Metronome, his coat buttoned up to his throat against the cold, he was finally being honest with himself.
Chapter Eleven
London Celebrity @LondonCelebrity. 3h
Emergency services called to the Metronome Theatre. We’re investigating live
at the scene.
“No. No.” Bennett threw down a wad of papers in disgust. He had abandoned his seat in the stalls and was pacing up and down on the stage, to the visible annoyance of Richard and disconcertion of Will. He gripped violently at what little remained of his hair. Lainie could see where the rest of it must have gone. “Troy and Farmer, get out. Cool off in your dressing rooms. Take a bit of time to reflect. See if they’re hiring at Waitrose. Lainie and Chloe—ten-minute break, then get back here for another run-through of scene four.”
Lainie exchanged speaking glances with Chloe. She thought they’d been doing fairly well this time. Bennett was obviously not in a mood to agree.
Will put a hand on the edge of the stage and jumped into the orchestra pit—presumably to have a word with someone, not out of sheer frustration with their director. Bennett was turning into the West End’s answer to Big Brother. Every time she turned around, he was there, watching, carping and criticising. They had all been run ragged from the moment they’d entered the theatre.