"Gloria certainly wasn't together personally, and she saved our asses," Grayson adds.
I shake my head. "I can't fight you both. Gray, are you going to call her or shall I?" The cast forAn American in Parisisn't set to arrive for five more weeks, so she might not even be available.
"Can you call, H? I've got to get back to rehearsal. Tabby, we're probably not going to get to your number for a few hours. I don't want you wasting your time here if there's something else you want to do. We can always call you when we need you."
Tabitha smiles at Grayson before turning to me. "I think I'll hang around and see if there's some way I can make myself useful."
"Shouldn't you spend this time with your daughter?" The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
The smile drops from her face like a curtain falling. "I … I can go." She turns to leave. I stand quickly, needing to rectify my mistake. "No, Tabitha, don't." I grab her arm. "I … it didn't come out how I meant it. What I meant to ask was is Paisley doing better this morning?"
She nods without turning around. I release her, sinking back into my chair. "Good. Don't want her to be too upset. Now, I've got to call this ..." I rifle through the papers on the desk, looking for her name, "right. Leslie Ann Moose."
I see Tabitha tighten through the shoulders, cringing at the name. I mean, I guess I can sort of see why she was stuck on it, trying to decide whether a stage name would be better. It's horrible, especially for a ballerina. But still, we have enough drama without looking for it with someone who's having an identity crisis.
And she totally needs a stage name.
"So maybe I was a tad harsh on her. It's your fault, really. I was in a bad mood because you'd left me."
Tabitha turns around. "Henderson, you've been in a bad mood since I met you, and it rarely has anything to do with me. You need to own your shit for once."
I blink, processing her words. She's right, of course. "I am in a bad mood. I generally am around members of the opposite sex who are potential dating material. It's like as soon as I register that someone could be interesting or whatev, my brain short circuits, and I become a huge wanker."
She tightens up one side of her face, almost in a sneer. "That is the lamest excuse I've ever heard."
I shrug. "I don't know how to date." I don't think I've ever admitted it out loud. "Maybe because I've never wanted to date. I … don't believe in love."
I catch Tabitha's barely perceptible wince, those blue eyes wounded.
At least I didn'tbefore I met her.
Oh no.
Chapter 33: Tabitha
Leave it to me to fall for a guy who doesn't believe in love. I'm practically a cliché.
There's no practically about it.
I'm not smart about a lot of things, but there is one thing I do know—people don't change. They are who they are. And if Henderson doesn't want to believe in love—to believe in the possibility ofus—then I can't change that.
I can't waste the effort on it.
And we don't have the time to waste. There's a show that's going to open, regardless of our personal drama. We should probably focus on that. You know, maybe Henderson was onto something with his 'no dating at work' policy. We've already lost a lot of valuable time.
"Okay, well, let's get back to this. Are you calling this Leslie Ann Moose? I'll help you out by telling you the answer is yes." I don't wait for him to respond. "She's your Obi Wan Kanobe."
"How so?"
"Your only hope." I smile.
He returns the gesture for a brief moment before the seriousness returns to his face. "Well then, we're screwed."
"She could be great. I mean, the name thing can't be your only gripe."
Henderson doesn't answer. Holy hell, he's basing all of this on her own confusion about her name? Okay, even to me it sounds flighty, but maybe she's got a good reason.
"Henderson, don't be stupid. Call her. You need her here, like, yesterday as it is. This show has to come together."
