“No, I haven’t. That sounds nice.”
“What about you? Have you booked anything?”
“Actually…” Shane looked down into his drink. “Actually, I think I’m going to take a little break. Go back to school.”
Walt blinked. “Toschool?”
“Yeah. I’m starting classes in the fall. Psychology. I’m sure they just accepted me for the novelty, but, hey, whatever it takes.”
“No shit.” Walt shook his head in disbelief. “The thirty-six-year-old freshman. I bet you could pitch that as a reality show, if you wanted.”
Shane laughed. “I don’t know about that. I think I’m ready to live my life off-camera for now. Besides, I’m doing all my gen eds online, so I won’t be on campus for a while anyway.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah, in case I want to get out of L.A.”
Walt raised his eyebrows. “Anywhere in mind?”
Shane shrugged. “No, just…in theory.” He took a long swig of his beer.
Walt looked him over appraisingly. “You know, I’m happy for you. I never would’ve called it, but I think that might be just what you need.”
“Thanks, Walt. Me, too.”
It was then that he heard it: Lilah’s laugh, cutting through the room, as clearly as if she were standing next to him. He couldn’t stop his head from whipping around automatically, his stomach lurching when he saw her, absorbed in conversation with Margaux and Natalie.
He looked back at Walt, whose brow creased in concern. “I really was sorry to hear about you two,” Walt said. “But I appreciate that you were able to keep it separate. Not bring it to set.”
Shane forced himself to smile. “You mean, for once?”
Walt grinned. “You said it, not me.”
Shane turned around again, only to find this time that Lilah was staring right at him. She looked away again, her expression inscrutable. “Yeah. Me and Lilah…we’re good. It just wasn’t right.” He turned back to Walt. “I’m sorry about the show, though. That we couldn’t continue.”
Walt shrugged. “I told the network it was a bad idea to basetheir long-term decisions on your relationship—no offense—but all they’ve ever seen when they look at the two of you are dollar signs. But I’m not sure how much more we could’ve squeezed out of it once you were together, anyway. Kate and Harrison, I mean. Nine years is a hell of a run.”
“Right.” Shane sipped his beer. “Probably best to go out on top.”
“I guess that’s what you’re doing, too, huh?”
“That’s the idea.”
“And who knows? Since you two are on good terms, maybe they’ll get you back together for one of those recap podcasts in a few years.”
Shane laughed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Walt drained his drink, setting it on a side table. “I should probably go congratulate her before I forget. I’ll tell her you send your regards.” Shane thought he saw a conspiratorial twinkle in Walt’s eye before he excused himself to go talk to Lilah.
The news had broken between the time they’d wrapped and the party: Lilah had booked a starring role in a prestige miniseries adaptation ofMacbethset in the corporate world, scheduled to start shooting in New York in the fall.
He leaned against the wall, watching Walt approach her, only looking away once she caught him staring again.
When the party was down to the last stragglers, Shane slipped out, taking the elevator to the top floor. He made his way down the empty hallway, hand in his pocket, fingering the key that had been burning a hole there all night. When he reached the door to the suite at the end, he hesitated before inserting the key into the lock, glancing back over his shoulder one last time to make sure no one saw him.
“You’re in trouble,” he called to the empty living room, shutting the door behind him and kicking off his shoes.
Lilah appeared in the bedroom doorway, eyes wide with panic. “What? Why? Did somebody say something? Do they know?”
