“I’m not.” I rise from my seat and walk to one of the walls, where framed pictures document Natalia’s journey in theatre. “Why don’t I reach out to him? Maybe I can convince him.”
She gives me a look that states how little she thinks of my chances. “You can try,” she says with a shrug. “What can it hurt?”
What can it hurt indeed?
Chapter Seventeen
Aidan
Hello Aidan.
Hello Aidan!
The words mock me as I stride out of the building, desperate to get as far away from her as possible.
Hello Aidan.
As if mere words can breach the gulf between us. As if any rules of social interaction can ever form a bridge across which we can communicate and exchange meaningless pleasantries like the past never happened.
I can still see her standing there just inside Natalia’s office. Hesitant, as if she needed my permission to advance. I can still hear the softness in her voice, the luminous imploration in her eyes. One look at her and I was a slave to my emotions again, with no idea what I wanted most, to wrap my hands around that tiny waist, crush her body beneath mine and fuck her till my ears filled with the familiar sound of her moans.
Or to beg her to explain, to make me understand why she walked away, why she had no qualms about moving on when I still felt like a crippled shadow of the man I’d been when we were together.
I still want her. That undeniable realization, that all the feelings I’ve suppressed and ignored for the past seven years have just been hiding beneath the surface, waiting for her to return…it enrages me.
How dare she?
How dare she waltz back into my life and act as if the past doesn’t matter, as if we can just be friends? It leaves a taste like dust in my mouth. I’d rather live without directing another play for the rest of my life than pretend that she deserves anything but contempt from me.
Outside the building, I notice up to three people with cameras standing on the opposite sidewalk, and I mutter a curse under my breath. Of course, it was only a matter of time before the paps started following her around the city, hoping to capture images to satisfy her hungry public.
I wonder if she knows they’re outside, if she knows to leave through one of the fire exits, to avoid them…
I stop my thoughts. Why do I care if the paparazzi mob her or not? Her problems are none of my business.
She is none of my business.
And I have no intention of working under her celebrity brand. For this play, there would always be another chance, another revival.
One without Liz McKay.
“Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine.”
I keep walking, tempted to go over to my brother’s apartment at the Swanson Court and spill my frustrations to Landon, or Rachel. Seven years ago, they nursed me through the lowest period of my life. One day, I thought I’d found the love of my life, and the next, she was already on the other sid
e of the country when I learned from an ecstatic press that she had left our play, was signed on to do a series of movies, and was already romantically linked with her future co-star.
Even the memories are painful. To avoid them, I spend the next hour punching a bag at the gym, not stopping until every muscle in my body is exhausted and I’m too tired to think.
After a quick shower, I head to my apartment, craving sleep. In the lobby, the doorman sees me and rises from behind the large reception desk, smiling like a man with a secret.
“Hey, Aidan.” He rounds the desk, heading straight for me.
“What’s up, Ted?” I return his smile. “Do I have a delivery?”
“No, but you have a visitor.”
My exhaustion disappears and I tense. “Who is it?”