Staring at her words on my screen, with her voice coming from the speakers, it feels almost as though she’s in the room with me.
Let’s talk.
Why does she keep pushing this insane demand for a conversation as if mere words can change anything for us?
I ignore the text, but even as my eyes go back to the screen, I find it impossible to focus.
My phone buzzes again.
Dinner. At Sardi’s. Nine o' clock. Just like we used to. I’ll buy.
Just like we used to. I almost smile at the memories, before nostalgia is replaced by the familiar sense of betrayal. Does she know she is assaulting my peace of mind? She probably does. That’s her style, after all.
I should go to the restaurant and drag her back here. There are a lot of things I’d gladly do with her. Just like we used to.
The image of her in my arms, in my bed, sends a powerful thrill of arousal through me, and my cock hardens.
I resist the temptation to take matters in my hands. With her face on the screen and her voice coming from the speakers, it would be easy to close my eyes and imagine her hands touching me, her voice in my ear, her mouth around my cock…
Fuck her.
From nowhere a memory creeps into my head. Liz, years ago, laughing as she snuggles in my arms. “I never knew it was possible to be this happy.”
Then why did you throw it away?
I switch off the TV and toss my phone to the far edge of the sofa before going to pour myself a drink.
No, Liz. I won’t have dinner with you.
We’re not going to talk.
I won’t let you push me over the edge.
She had my heart once, and she destroyed it. Now, I have no intention of giving her anything else, especially my time.
Chapter Twenty Two
Liz
“There is no close up.” Aidan’s voice is like a whiplash. “You’ve got to show more emotion for the audience to understand what you’re going on about. There’s no sound mixing. It’s just you and them. Can you at least act as if you understand?”
I bite back a sharp retort. “I’m trying to give you what you want.”
“Try harder.” He paces a few steps then turns around to glare at me.
When I don’t move, he leans forward, raising his hand questioningly. “Is there something you want to say?” His voice takes on a mocking tone. “Or is there something you require before you can give us a passable performance? Is your trailer not luxurious enough? Would you prefer a different brand of bottled water?”
I grit my teeth. “Stop it.”
“Do your job and give me a scene.”
What a bastard!
Pressing my lips together, I prepare for another attempt to do the godforsaken scene. Since he ignored my invitation to dinner, I’ve made no headway with him. Sitting in a restaurant for two hours waiting for him had been humiliating enough to make me think maybe I should give it up. Having my picture taken by a fellow diner and leaked to the press with headlines talking about how I’d been stood up only added to the humiliation.
As if that’s not enough, his attitude at rehearsals is close to unbearable. Every day is the same. He snaps and snarls at me during rehearsals, and after, he acts as if I don’t exist.
I spend most of my evenings with my father, and long after he dozes off, I wrack my brains for ideas on what to do about Aidan.