I shrug, ignoring the aching clump of emotions in my chest area. “Maybe he had somewhere more interesting to be.”
The dig at her party makes her chuckle, and it makes me feel like an immature brat.
“Don’t be mean,” she purrs. “I was only complimenting your acting skills. You’ll need them now that you’re coming back to the stage, though…” A photographer approaches to take our picture, and she gives him a brilliant smile. “…if Aidan’s reaction to finding out that you’re in his play is any indication, you’ll need more than acting skills.”
With that, she abandons me. Deflated, I watch the back of her head as she walks away. A uniformed waiter passes with a tray of fluted glasses and I help myself to some champagne. Someone waves at me and I wave back. Someone I don’t recognize approaches me and tells me how happy he is to see me again. Soon others join him, and I’m surrounded by people who know me, people hanging on to my every word.
And yet I can’t stop thinking about Aidan.
I want to leave. Why had I agreed to come here in the first place?
Because you wanted a chance to run into Aidan. You wanted it to be oh so casual, like you haven’t been yearning for him for seven years.
Except it hadn’t turned out the way I’d expected.
What did I think would happen? That he’d talk to me? Act as if the past didn’t matter for the sake of the people around? Of course, he wouldn’t. Aidan has never cared about other people’s opinions. He’d never pretend for the sake of spectators.
After draining my glass, I signal a waiter for another. At this rate, I’ll be drunk before the evening ends. Well, if I’m going to stay here and try to save face after that snub from Aidan, I might as well enjoy it.
Did LKay just take a massive L?
What would you give for a chance to talk to sexy mega-star Liz McKay? Well, some people would give no fucks, apparently. Spotted last night: Liz McKay getting the cold shoulder from award-winning director Aidan Court. Gossip says they have a history. Darling Liz once dumped Aidan. So, did she deserve to be snubbed? Tell us in the poll and in the comments.
“A poll! For heaven sakes.” I sigh. “That’s from Celeb Observer. Have you seen it?”
“I have,” Jenny replies coolly. My phone is on speaker so I can scroll through the morning gossip while venting to her. “I don’t know why you bother. It’s just the stupid gossip rags. I only read them because I have a web alert for your name. It’s not a big deal. You shouldn’t care.”
“I care because it’s Aidan.” My shoulders slump. “If it becomes a thing, he’ll hate the extra publicity.”
“But…it will be good for the play, won’t it?”
“If there’s still a play after Aidan raises hell for having to work with me. Judging by his reaction yesterday, he can’t even stand to be in the same room.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s a pause. “Would it help if I said he’s an ogre who has no idea how perfect you are and how dare he presume to hate you for dumping his ass when he should be overcome with gratitude that you ever looked at him in the first place?”
I can’t help chuckling. “He’s not an ogre. Unless ogres are hot, talented…” I sigh. “…and sexy.”
“You still like him!”
I don’t reply. How do I explain that I more than like him, even after spending seven years apart?
When I don’t respond, Jenny sighs. “Well, if you do get to work with him again, the best it can be is awkward.”
“And the worst?”
“Unbearable.”
That’s not helpful at all.
Moments later, the black SUV stops in front of a glass fronted building with a coffee shop and a jewelry store facing the street on the ground floor. I slip on my sunglasses and step out of the car, simply dressed in a burgundy jersey dress belted at the waist, paired with strappy heels. There are only a few people on the sidewalk, so I’m not very concerned about being recognized.
Still, a guy on the sidewalk does a double take when he sees my face. My friendly wave prompts a slack-jawed smile from him, and I hurry into the building before anyone else recognizes me.
The McKay Theater company is on the sixth floor. Inside, it’s all glass partitions and blue-gray carpets. There has been a change in interior decoration since my father used to run the place—then, it was mahogany, leather and thick rugs. Natalia may have kept the name of the company, but she is making changes.
The receptionist gives me a dazzled smile “Liz McKay!” she squeaks. “I’m sorry…I mean…Good afternoon, Ms. McKay.”
Her name is on her nameplate. “Hello, Daisy.”