“I was blinded by it for a long time, and she triggered something protective in me. But it became unsustainable. She got more and more clingy, and eventually I...” He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. “It got too much. I cheated on her. A makeup artist. Alana walked in, and...yeah.” He trailed off, something pained sharpening his features.
“Hard blow for someone with a fragile confidence,” Emma murmured.
His jaw flexed. “I’m not proud of it. I think part of me wanted her to find out, so I wouldn’t have to be the one to end it. You asked before why I was drawn to playing villains?”
He let the question hang, the answer clear but unspoken.
Emma’s chest ached at the self-disgust in his tone. She wanted to say something—anything—but the words tangled in her throat. Because what did you say when someone laid their worst mistake bare?
Darren shifted in his seat. “Well, you have me at a disadvantage.” His voice lightened a shade, but it seemed to cost him some effort. “Any exes on your end I should know about? Someone waiting to challenge me to a duel after all this media frenzy? Keanu Reeves, perhaps? I’m not loving the idea of taking on John Wick, so a heads-up would be nice.”
Emma let out a low laugh, then shook her head. “Nothing to worry about there. Apparently, there’s this whole relationship procedure you have to go through in order to get yourself an ex.”
The joke slipped out too easily in the wake of his confession, and she instantly regretted it. What kind of weirdo would he think she was?
He sat back. “Wait, are you telling me you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she didn’t quite manage to meet his gaze. “Nope.”
Curiosity chased away the last of the shadows on his face. “But...sorry. That just surprises me.”
Emma searched for the right words. “I’ve dated,” she said slowly. “But every time it started to feel real...I pulled back. It just never seemed worth the risk of getting hurt.”
She felt his eyes on her, but didn’t look up.
“You don’t let people close easily, do you?”
The question was soft. Gentle.
She hesitated, turning it over. The “why” of it. Maybe that was just the thing. The reason she was scared to let someone close wasn’t because she’d been hurt before—but because she never had been.
“I was always drawn more to books and stories than real life. I should have grown out of it at some point, I suppose, but...” She shrugged. “I’ve always had this ability to immerse myself in fantasy. To feel things deeply without ever having to risk anything. To fall in love with the idea of someone, from a distance. It felt...safer.”
For a moment, silence filled the car, the city flashing by outside the windows. Her pulse moved in her neck, and she wondered if he knew what she was thinking. That she’d fallen in love with him that way.
Except there was nothing safe about it now, was there? Not with his body so close that she felt his presence, not with his attention fully on her and nowhere to run.
Then Darren’s voice came, low and thoughtful: “Safer, sure. But not the same.”
She risked a glance at him. His expression wasn’t judgmental. Just...open. Like she’d handed him something delicate, and he was holding it carefully.
“No,” she breathed. “Maybe not.”
Darren looked out the window. His posture shifted, settling back into that easy composure she’d come to recognize.
“Well,” he said, his tone lighter. “Speaking of stories and fantasy.”
Emma blinked and followed his gaze. Ahead of them, the white tents for the Hall H line came into view.
“We’re back at Comic-Con?” she asked, baffled.
That mischievous spark was back in his eyes. “See? Told you I’d bring you back.”
Chapter 32
Sometimes getting dressed up. . .feels like coming undone.
The SUV slowed and turned onto the street behind the convention center, along the bayside. The park down by the marina was packed with people standing in the Next Day Line for Hall H.
