“For everything.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, then rolled her head to face forward. “Yeah,” she said, even more quietly than he had. “I’m sorry, too.”
Maybe he was reading too much into it, but it didn’t just sound like an apology. It sounded like a lament. For the lost versions of themselves they could’ve been, for the different future they could’ve had, for every choice they’d made along the way that had carried them further away from each other.
“You should do the convention with me,” he blurted out. “With all of us, I mean. In March.”
The other five principals, plus Walt, were all scheduled to travel to San Francisco to make appearances at the biggest pop culture convention of the year. Lilah, as always, was the only holdout.
She scooted herself up from where she’d slumped down until she was sitting upright again, brushing the last stray tears from her eyes.
“What? Why? You know I hate that stuff.”
He felt a pang as he remembered the only one she’d gone to, during the first season—her vacant stare, how uncharacteristically quiet she’d been, her hands laced together so tightly her knuckles went white.
“Yeah, but that was then. It was all still so new. You’re more used to handling it now, right?”
She nodded, a little reluctantly. He continued. “Who knows? You might actually have a good time. It’s fun, meeting people who love the show that much. Enough to take time out of their lives to come see us. Getting the chance to connect with them…it’s really special. They always ask about you, you know.”
“They do?”
“Of course they do.” He shrugged. “Just think about it. It’ll be the last one with us all together like this. Until we’re washed up and doing the nostalgia circuit, I guess. But you deserve to feel some of that love now.”
Her gaze slid sideways, but she didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat. “Anyway. Since you talked me out of my comfort zone, I thought I might as well return the favor.”
She perked up. “You’re doingLNL? You decided?”
“Yeah. It’s pretty much a done deal.”
“Scared?”
He cracked a grin. “Extremely.”
She laughed, and to his relief, the thickness was gone from her voice. “That’s a good thing. That means you’re challenging yourself.”
“Or I’m about to make a complete fool of myself.”
“I doubt it. Worst case, you’ll just dookay,and no one will care by next week. But making a complete fool of yourself every once in a while is kind of a guarantee as an actor. Even if it happens, you’ll survive. Speaking from personal experience here.”
He sat with that for a moment.
“Lilah?”
“Hmm?”
“I thought your movie was good, actually.”
She snorted. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. “Okay, yes, the movie sucked. Butyoudidn’t. Honestly, you kind of blew me away. I forgot I was even watching you, most of the time.”
“That was the prosthetics,” she muttered under her breath, but it was clear she was biting back a smile.
He let out an exasperated laugh. “Will you just let me give you a fucking compliment? Jesus.”
She turned to him, tears glinting off her eyelashes again, color high in her cheeks, but she didn’t say anything else. He continued. “You were great in that, and you probably would’ve been great in this one, too. Fuck ’em, it’s their loss. I’m not worried about you. Whatever happens, you’re going to be fine.”
He saw tears fill her eyes again before she quickly looked away, her voice trembling. “Yeah. Maybe.”
