“He’s lucky too of course,” Janis is quick to add. She dabs my face with the sponge. “I just don’t want to kiss you like I do him.”
I laugh again. “That’s fine because I don’t want to kiss you either.”
The TV in the dressing room shows live footage of the show. The volume is low, but subtitles make up the difference.
James sticks his head in. “They’re about to announce you,” he says in a rush. “Come this way. The stage crew will get you where you need to go.”
I set my gaze on the screen once more as I come to a stand. The words‘lets welcomeBuffy Fields’appear. “What?” I say aloud. “Why issheon here?”
Janis squints at the screen for a minute. “Oh, probably because she’s on Dawson’s docuseries. I binged it this week.Sogood. And it seems like Buffy’s done a lot of growing up.”
I stare at her, slightly irked that Buffy’s in the docuseries and I didn’t even know it.
“You better go,” Janis says. “You look gorgeous, by the way. Anddeadly. Go get ‘em, tiger.” She smacks my butt and ushers me out the way I came in.
Dawson rushes out of his dressing room at the same time, a pair of dull red suspenders fastened to his lumberjack pants. Even in the low light, his chiseled chest boasts muscled contours for days.
“Good luck out there,” he says with a wink.
“Thanks,” I say, “you too.” Then, because it’s so fresh on my mind, I add, “You never told me that Buffy was in that docuseries with you.”
His brow furrows.“This is the first time you’ve brought up the project, andthat’swhat you have to say about it?”
A guy I don’t recognize slides out of the dressing room behind Dawson, smoothing a hand over his gelled hair.
“It’s just weird that you never mentioned it,” I say.
“It’s my fault,” the man beside him says. “You’re not upset, are you?”
At first, I assume he’s talking to Dawson; I don’t even know the guy, but as he pulls a cringe face in my direction, sucking air through his teeth, I realize he’s addressingme.
“Perry…” Dawson puts a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. “That’s not what we’re talking about.”
I look between the two as a layer of dread coats my skin. “Why would I be upset?”
“Exactly,”the man says like I wasn’t asking a question of my own. “So you understand that it’s my job to make sure he’s aware of events like this…in advance.”
“Aware?”
Dawson waves him off. “This is Perry, he’s my PR rep and he was just leaving.”
A crowd of crew members rushes toward us. “It’s go time,” a lanky kid wearing a headset says. “Dawson, you’re on stage left. Brinley, you’re at stage right. Your guides will take you where you need to be.”
I barely glance over the group waiting to take Dawson and me to our spots. The wordsin advancecycle through my mind.
Dawson looks worried. “I had no idea until he told me,” he says. “I swear. I was planning to miss them.”
Planning to missthem—as in the Emmys.
“He told you about theCeremony?” The burn of betrayal spreads like wildfire through my chest, devouring the budding trust I had for him. It’s charred. Ash. Gone.
“Dawson,” I urge, willing this to somehow not be true. I want it to be a mistake. A misunderstanding. Anything but the truth. “Tell me—did you already know you were coming tonight?” I’m on the verge of unraveling; a fact he must read on my face because his eyes go wide.
“Not before I went into the house,” he promises. “I barely found out yesterday.”
A waiting stage crew member hands Dawson the axe. “This way,” they say.
I look at the axe, feeling as if its blade is lodged in my back. No wonder he was acting so weird when we told him. He already knew. Mr. Cool, Casual, and Committed had nothing to fear this whole time. Even if his repdidhold out until day four to tell Dawson, it was probably more of a confirmation than anything. ‘Don’t worry,’I hear the smooth guy say before Dawson goes on the show,‘there’s no way we’ll let you miss those awards.’
