Broken Juliet(78)

I give her a hug. “I love you dearly, but you’re useless at advice.”

“Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep. I’ll be the one blowing my boyfriend.”

“In your bedroom with the door shut, right?”

“If you’re lucky.”

I take a breath and walk over to Ethan. When I get there, Jack puts his arm around me, clearly inebriated.

“Ah, sweet Cassie Taylor. You were so good tonight. So good.”

“Thanks, Jack. You too.”

“I especially enjoyed getting a peek of side-boob during your scene with Connor. That was hot. Holt, your girlfriend has a spectacular rack. I hope you appreciate that.”

Ethan shakes his head. “Yeah, and now everyone’s seem it. I’m thrilled. Really.”

Right. That’s it.

I grab the front of his shirt and pull.

“Hey!”

“Where are you guys going?” Jack whines.

“I’m taking my boyfriend home to screw his brains out,” I announce. “Maybe then he’ll stop being such an idiot.”

There’s a chorus of catcalls as I drag Ethan out of the party, but I don’t care.

I take his keys from him and push him toward the passenger door. I’ve barely had anything to drink but judging by the way he wobbles as he gets into the car, he’s well over the limit.

As I pull away from the curb, he mumbles something about being careful with his car. I ignore it.

He turns on the stereo and AC/DC blares from the speakers.

I turn it off and slap his hand when he tries to turn it on again.

He slumps down into his seat and looks out the window.

“Did you mean what you just said?” he asks.

“Yes. I am indeed going to screw your brains out.”

“No,” he says, “I meant about me being an idiot.”

“Yes. I can see how pissed you are over the scene with Connor, and it’s dumb. We did what the play called for. You know that’s how it works. I feel like you’re blaming me.”

“I’m not, it’s just … I keep seeing him touching you. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to see it. Ethan, we can’t keep doing this dance. You have to try to find a way to get past this.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds, then says, “I’ve been reading self-help books.”

“What?”

“I have a whole stack of them. I’ve been meditating and trying to change how I react to stuff, but it’s really f*cking hard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like I want you to know how desperate I am.”

“At least you’re trying.”

“Yeah, and failing,” he says. “It’s frustrating as hell, because I want to change so badly, then something like tonight happens, and I’m back to where I started.”

I touch his face. His air of hopelessness is scaring me. “Please … keep trying, okay? Don’t give up.”

He nods, but I wonder if he’s already too far gone.

We pull up in front of my apartment and head inside. When I close the door, he pushes me up against it and kisses me. There’s a desperation in him that I want to extinguish, but I don’t know how. It mirrors my own.

I don’t think either one of us is a bad person. Why can’t we just get to be happy together?

When we make love, it’s rough. Almost angry. And when he falls asleep, I lie there and try to imagine being the one to leave this time. Could I do it? Get out before he destroys me?

It’s a tempting thought.



Present Day

New York City, New York

Graumann Theater

Opening Night

The party’s loud and flamboyant, just like most of the people attending. There’s a cavalcade of “Darling!” and “You were FABULOUS!” and “I loved it!”, and through it all, I try to take the compliments and make small talk, when all I want to do is find Ethan and bury myself in his chest.

I spot him across the room, chatting with a throng of women all desperate to get his attention, but all the while, he keeps one eye on me. The way he looks at me keeps permanent color in my cheeks. Even across the room, he radiates sex. I pity the effect he’s having on the poor women huddled around him.

“So what’s the story with you and Ethan?” the reviewer from Stage Diary asks. “I’ve heard you had a tumultuous love affair at drama school. Are you still together?”

Ethan takes a sip of champagne and nods at the woman talking to him.

I can’t stop watching him. “No. Not together.”

“Friends?”

He moves his gaze to me and stays there. “No. Not exactly friends.”

“What then?”

Ethan frowns. Does he know I’m talking about him? “He’s … Ethan.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m still figuring that out.”

“Hmmm, intriguing.”

“Yep. Definitely that.”

Marco swoops in and kisses me on the cheek. He’s doing that a lot tonight. It’s pretty obvious he’s ecstatic with the reception the show has received.