When they were together, his need for her had been so powerful that it was almost like a living thing. But there was an ugly side to it, a side that overwhelmed her, smothered her, left her helpless and flailing in his absence. But she’d learned to live without him again. She didn’t need him anymore. And tonight, there was nofamiliar edge of wild-eyed desperation to his plea. He didn’t need her anymore, either.
But they still wanted each other. They would still choose each other over anyone else on earth.
And in a way, that was even better.
Grey couldn’t help it: she melted. She struggled to stifle her grin as she rolled her eyes. “I need to stop dating actors. You’re all so fuckingdramatic.”
Before he could respond, she knotted her hand in his shirt and pulled his face to hers. They both exhaled softly, a communal sigh of relief. They kissed like they had all the time in the world. Smoothing over their old fears, their doubts, their recriminations with their lips and tongues and hands like a skilled massage therapist working the kinks out of a gnarled back.
Too soon, he pulled away again.
“I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
She gave a little whine of protest as he slipped out from under her and went to his jacket. He pulled out a rolled-up sheaf of paper from the inner pocket and handed it to her, sitting back on the couch next to her. She looked down at it, confused. Unfurling the pages, she read the title:Bitter Pill.
“You finished it?”
His eyes lit up.
“I rewrote it. For you.”
She flipped through the pages, then looked up at him. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll star. I’ll direct.” His eyes flicked to her face nervously. “What do you think?”
She leaned in and kissed him softly.
“Ethan, I—I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I know how much this means to you. I can’t wait to read it.” Her trepidation must have shown in her expression, because his face fell.
“ ‘But…’ ”
“But…” She hesitated. “I’m not saying no. But I’m not sure if this is right. I don’t know if I want to be retrofitted into something that was about you and Sam. I would love to work with you. But I want to be your partner, not your muse.”
She searched his face, waiting for him to retreat, to get upset. To take back everything he’d said and storm out the door. But she couldn’t lie about her feelings just to coddle his. She’d never minced words with him before, but her honesty felt even riskier now than when she’d told him off that very first day in Audrey’s office.
He slowly took the script out of her hands, his head dipping low. But when he looked at her again, there was only warmth in his expression. Her heart soared in relief.
“Okay,” he said simply.
“Okay?”
He shrugged. “Makes sense to me.” He ran his thumb across the edges of the pages. “It’s just a script. Just paper. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than that.”
Grey exhaled, then laughed under her breath.
“What?”
She gently took the script out of his hand and placed it on the ground before sliding her leg over his hips and straddling him. “Remind me to send a thank-you note to your therapist.”
He laughed, low and husky.
“I guess I deserve that.” He settled his hands at her waist. “He would’ve loved you, you know. Sam.”
Her breath caught in her throat. “I wish I could have met him.”
“Me, too. You have a similar sense of humor. You’re so quick. You both…you make me want to be better. To be able to keep up with you.”
She took a moment to let the weight of the compliment settleover her, her lips curving slightly. She lifted her head and looked into his eyes.
