Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(75)

“That’s ridiculous. None of this is your fault.”

“No. But it does make me wonder what else Liam’s been keeping from me.” Rain. His mouth. Hands all over my body. “He could have been fucking this girl for weeks. He denies it, but I’m inclined not to believe a single word he says anymore.”

Me either. I shake my head and check my script. “Okay, stand by for your cue, then exit with Liam downstage at the end of the scene.”

“Thank you, sweetie.”

“You’re welcome. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”

The day drags on. We finish blocking the final few scenes, but the tension in the air negates what little sense of achievement that brings.

By the time I call an end to rehearsal, everyone breathes a sigh of relief. I think we’re all emotionally exhausted.

While the rest of the cast leaves, Angel and Liam retreat to the conference room along with Anthony and Mary. Their press conference is in an hour, and Anthony wants to drill them one more time. It’s clear a spontaneous and heartfelt apology takes a crapload of rehearsal.

I’m tidying up the production desk when Josh touches my shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yep.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

He grabs my hands and turns me to face him. I can’t look him in the face so I stare at my knuckles instead.

“Listen, I have a date tonight, but if you want me to cancel, I can.”

I squeeze his hands. “I’ll be fine. I’m used to this, remember? But there is someone who I’m sure could use a friend tonight.”

“If you say Quinn, I’m going to punch something. Probably him.”

I shake my head and look up at him. “Make sure Angel isn’t alone. She doesn’t have any friends here, and I’d be with her, but . . . well, awkward.”

He nods. “I’ll take care of her. Now, go. I’ll clean up here.” He pulls me in for a tight hug, then passes me my bag.

As soon as I hit the street, I’m accosted by at least a dozen reporters and photographers, all screaming questions as they shove recording devices in my face.

“Any comment on the cheating scandal? How’s Angel coping with Liam’s betrayal?”

“Is Liam sorry? Has he done this sort of thing before?”

“Can you tell us about the woman involved? Is she an actor, too?”

“If they break up, will the show close?”

I stay silent and push through them. When they start to follow me, I run.

By the time I get home, I’m in need of a Valium, a shower, and tissues. I slam the door behind me, then lean back against it, and when all the emotion I’ve been suppressing for the past ten hours threatens to bubble out of me in big, frustrated sobs, I let it come.





SIXTEEN


LOVE AND LOBSTERS


Fresh from a hot shower and wrapped in my favorite robe, I flop onto the couch and turn on my phone. Immediately, a slew of message alerts rings out. Most of the numbers I don’t recognize, so I figure they’re reporters and ignore them. When I see that Liam’s tried to call me fifteen times, I grip the phone so hard, I almost crack the glass. I throw the phone onto the couch and head into the kitchen. There’s only half a bottle of red wine left, but my name is written all over it. I don’t even bother with a glass.

After taking a giant swig, I go back to the couch and turn on the TV. Of course, the first thing that comes on is an entertainment show about the Angeliam scandal.

“Geez, Universe,” I mutter at the screen. “I usually like some foreplay before I’m fucked this thoroughly. You could at least buy me dinner.”

I sit there like a zombie and watch as the media circus covers the scandal. It’s the Angeliampocalypse, complete with teary fan interviews, Hollywood insiders speculating about the future of the golden couple, and an actual graph predicting how much retail sales of Rageheart will suffer or soar if they split. They’ll soar, by the way.

I don’t even know why I’m watching. Stupidity? Sick curiosity? Flat-out masochism? After trusting Liam again, I guess I deserve punishment.

On the screen, Angel and Liam emerge from our rehearsal building and face the barrage of yelling reporters and flashbulbs. They’re holding hands. Liam looks gorgeous and contrite. Angel looks gorgeous and devastated. Liam says everything Anthony told him to. He’s on the verge of tears the whole time, which leads me to believe he’s either genuinely sorry for his actions or needs to win a damn Oscar in the near future.

I hate how choked up I get when he says, “For my whole life, I’ve only loved one woman. And I’m sickened that my thoughtless and selfish actions have hurt her. I can only hope that one day, she’ll understand I just want to be with her, and find a way to forgive me.”

He looks right through the camera when he says it, and his performance is so sincere and touching that by the end, even I’m rooting for him and Angel to make it through this clusterfuck.

Jesus Christ, I need more wine.

I take two big mouthfuls, then flip the channel over to a rerun of Friends. Phoebe is explaining how Rachel and Ross are soul mates. “She’s your lobster,” she says to Ross. “It’s a known fact lobsters fall in love and mate for life. You can actually see old lobster couples walking around their tank, holding claws.”