Broken Juliet(55)

My face burns as regret and guilt slither through my veins. I throw my arm over my eyes, as if I can hide from myself.

He’s trying so hard to show me he’s changed, and I’m determined to drag him back into our old patterns. Why? Because they’re familiar? Because I feel safe in them? What the hell good is that going to do anyone, especially me?

“Cassie?”

I open my eyes to see Elissa standing over me.

“You okay?”

I have the urge to giggle hysterically. The one thing I’m absolutely not is okay. “Sure, Elissa. Great.”

She nods, but the hard press of her mouth tells me she’s not buying it. “Uh-huh. So, Ethan looks ragey. What did you do?”

I sit up and run my hands through my hair. Ethan’s shame might be on vacation, but mine is very much present. “Oh, you know. The usual. Unleashed my inner bitch on him.”

She nods again. Her disapproval engulfs me like a noxious cloud.

“As your stage manager, I have to remind you that maintaining professional conduct with all members of this company is required. As Ethan’s sister, I want you to know that he’s dragged himself to hell and back to become a better person for you, and if you know he has zero chance of making it work, tell him now and let him get on with his life.”

“By hell and back, do you mean the accident?”

She frowns. “He told you about that?”

“Grudgingly.”

“Then you know what he’s been through.”

I nod. “I do. And I want things to work with us, but I can’t change overnight.”

“I know that. Neither could he, but he wanted to. Do you?”

Marco walks across the stage, clearly agitated. “Elissa! I need you. I have every intention of hunting Lance down and flaying his skin from his bones. I need you to stop me.”

“Coming.”

She leaves, and it’s just me, sitting on a fake bed in a fake house, trying to figure out how to make all the fake parts of me line up to form a real person.




I knock on the dressing room door.

There’s no response. When I enter, Ethan mutters, “I didn’t say to come in.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say ‘f*ck off,’ either, so I figured I’d take a chance.”

I close the door and lean against it. He’s sitting on the couch opposite the mirrors, head back, arm thrown over his eyes. He’s changed into his own jeans, which is understandable, considering what just happened.

“What do you want, Cassie?”

“To talk.”

“No, I mean, what do you want from me? Tell me what I’m doing wrong. Because I’m really trying here, but it feels like all I’m doing is finding new ways to lose you.”

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. I press my back into the door. It reminds me a backbone is there for a reason and not just to hang my bones on.

“I’m sorry.”

I whisper it. Ashamed. Afraid after all this time, I’m not good enough for him. That he’s now a better person than I ever was.

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says as he rubs his eyes. “I just had a grand romantic fantasy of how things would be when we got intimate again. Strangely enough, blowing my load fully clothed during a tech run wasn’t part of the plan.”

He still doesn’t move. I go sit next to him and pull his arm away from his face. He’s flushed. I don’t know if it’s from embarrassment or anger. Maybe both.

“Yeah, I kind of missed that memo. Sorry for orgasming you against your will.”

He laughs. “It’s ironic, considering the amount of times I’ve practically begged you to touch me like that. I’d almost forgotten how quickly you can make me come when you put your mind to it. It’s mortifying.”

He’s still not looking at me. Instead, he looks at his hands as he fiddles with the hem of my skirt and occasionally brushes my thigh.

“I didn’t know if I still affected you like that,” I say. “I thought … maybe … you’d outgrown it.”

Now he looks at me, incredulous. He opens and closes his mouth and blinks. Then he frowns at the floor, the wall, the mirrors, before he makes a disbelieving noise and looks back at me.

“You’ve met me, right? I’m Ethan. Late-night drunk-dialer. Compulsive ass-groper. Shameless boob-ogler. Forever-erect-in-your-presence serial masturbator. How the hell could I possibly outgrow that? If anything, it’s gotten worse over the years. Did you not just witness me coming from you fondling my cock for less than three minutes?”

His complete bewilderment makes me laugh.

He shakes his head. “Crazy f*cking statement. Not attracted to you? Jesus.” He pauses. “So mystery solved. Was it gratifying to see me completely lose my shit in record time?”

“A little.”

He nods. “At least you’re being honest.”

Honest. Right. He used to tell me I’d be horrified if I knew the stuff that went through his head every day. Now the reverse is true. Still, I know nothing’s going to improve between us if I keep things from him.

I take a deep breath and say, “Elissa said I need to figure out if I can make this work, and if I can’t, I need to let you get on with your life.”