Somehow she knew that no matter what they promised each other, things were only going to get more complicated.
ETHAN KNEW HE’D FUCKED UP.He realized it as soon as he saw the hurt and embarrassment in Grey’s eyes when he’d pulled away from her. Never mind that it had taken every last drop of self-control he had left. When she’d pressed her warm, soft body against his and sighed, smelling faintly of wine and tropical flowers, his brain had come dangerously close to short-circuiting. He didn’t know which was worse: the certainty that he’d hurt her with his rejection, or the uncertainty of what would have happened if he’d given in to temptation, pulled her into his arms, and drunk her down.
It was that uncertainty that haunted him over the next several days. In the moment it had seemed like shutting her down was the only option, but as soon as he did, he regretted it. It wasn’t just her disappointment that left him rattled—it was his surprise at the intensity of his own need.
He’d seen her once since then. The two of them had gone out to get coffee, Audrey calling ahead to make sure the shop wasn’ttoo busy. They’d spent less than twenty minutes together from start to finish.
She’d been friendly and cordial, acting every inch the devoted girlfriend, but the vulnerability was gone, her eyes frosted and distant. In a way, it was a relief: she’d gotten the message. He was someone who needed to be kept at arm’s length. He would only hurt her and let her down. He was thankful that it had just taken something as minimal as a rebuffed kiss for her to figure it out.
The coffee shop was another baby step in his journey back into public-facing life. When they’d entered, holding hands, every head in the place had whipped toward them. After years of brushing off and demurring every time someone had recognized him, he was a little rusty at actually interacting with fans. Grey had taken the lead with grace, steering them through each encounter, providing the delicate illusion of genuine connection, knowing exactly when to cut things off without seeming rude. He was grateful for her. He didn’t deserve her, even in the limited capacity he had her.
When he’d gotten home, he finally forced himself to pull out the last script he and Sam had been working on:Bitter Pill,a remake of an arthouse Korean film from two decades earlier that the two of them had been fascinated by. They’d acquired the rights shortly before Sam’s death, but their option on it was expiring soon.
Looking at the title page filled him with shame. He’d failed Sam by letting it languish for so long. Though he had acted in plenty of movies without Sam, this would be his first time writing and producing without Sam by his side. The prospect made Sam’s absence feel as acute as if Ethan had lost one of his own limbs, maybe even his head.
For them, the finished product had been secondary to the galvanizing delight of the creative process. The two of them up all night brainstorming in Sam’s office, running on pure adrenaline(and the occasional bump), tossing ideas back and forth until the sun came up.
The process on this one had been slower, though. More laborious. It hadn’t helped that Sam had been preoccupied with the dissolution of his three-year marriage to Beth Jordan, a socialite whose father had directed Sam and Ethan’s favorite action-comedy film series from their childhood. Neither Ethan nor Nora had been that fond of Beth—she had that glazed nepotism sheen of someone who’d never experienced the world beyond Beverly Hills and didn’t care to—but she’d made Sam happy, until she hadn’t. Ethan and Nora’s relationship was starting to show signs of strain by that point, too, and their work sessions had more often than not devolved into self-pitying, booze-fueled meditations on their floundering personal lives.
They’d barely even finished the first draft before Sam’s accident, and Ethan knew there was still a lot of work to be done. He had to finish it, though. It was the only piece of Sam he had left. Forcing himself back out in the world, on the arm of a woman who wanted nothing to do with him, was the first roundabout step to making that happen.
But for now, he put thoughts ofBitter Pilland the hurt in Grey’s eyes out of his head. He had his kids this weekend, so it would be a few days before he saw her again.
He pulled his car into the driveway of the house he and Nora had shared. While his own house definitely didn’t feel like home, neither did this, not anymore. As he walked up the immaculately landscaped pathway, flashes of memories accosted him: bringing Elle home from the hospital. Sydney learning to ride her bike. Waking up to Nora standing over him after he had passed out on the lawn. Time had dulled them enough so the twinges he felt were neither bitter nor sweet. They just were.
Nora opened the door before he even had a chance to knock.
“Girls ready?”
“They need a few more minutes. Come on in.”
He followed Nora into the kitchen, declining her offer of a bottle of water.
“You and Jeff got big plans this weekend?”
“Not really. Doyou?” she asked, arms crossed.
“Uh…yeah…I have the girls,” he deadpanned.
She sighed, drumming her fingers on the countertop. “And will anyone else be joining you?”
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
He could do this all day. She sighed again, defeated.
“You don’t owe me anything. But I think I deserve more than finding out you’re dating someone from goddamn Instagram.”
He avoided her gaze. “I’m sorry. It’s…it’s still new. I should have told you. I’m just…we’re figuring things out.”
She softened a little. “It’s okay. I just want to see you happy.” Unbeknownst to her, she had almost exactly parroted Audrey’s words to him less than two weeks ago:people want to see you stable. They want to see you happy.She’d been talking about strangers, of course, but even his ex-wife, the woman who in theory knew him better than anyone, was so desperate to believe it that she was willing to overlook the battalion of red flags indicating that there was something suspicious about the situation.
Nora continued. “I approve, by the way. I used to watch her show, you know; have you seen it? It’s pretty stupid, but I got hooked. Total guilty pleasure. She seems like a sweet girl. Talented, too. Those writers threw some wild stuff at her.”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, she’s very…” He racked his brain for the right word. “Symmetrical,” he finished lamely.
Nora frowned. He blustered ahead before she could say anything.
“Anyway, I’m not ready for her to meet the kids yet. Still too early. I want to make sure it’s for real. I’d appreciate you not mentioning it to them, either.”
