His gaze snaps back up to me. “I read the tabloids. Occasionally. Saw the articles about the spat you two had with that reporter fromCelebrity Intel. I put two and two together.”
“And got five?”
“And got that you’re afraid reporters will keep bringing up your backstory, and you don’t want to jeopardize her career.”
Now it’s my turn to stare into my beer. I don’t know if my father found any answers in his, but there are none in mine. “It’s my fault she threw that drink. If I hadn’t been there, she would never have been in that position.”
“Your reasons for walking away may be more noble than mine. But the result is the same, isn’t it? You’re alone. And miserable.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that Brie risked her career to defend me.”
“Isn’t that her choice to make?” He pushes his beer aside and leans across the table to make his point. “A life without love is pretty empty, no matter how great your career is. Trust me. I know.”
Damn. I must be living in the upside down.
My father is giving me relationship guidance. And he’s right.
I polish off my beer and pull out my wallet, signaling the waitress for the check. “Thanks for the advice, Dad. I’ve got this.”
“Leaving so soon?” He glances at his still half-full beer. “I was hoping we could talk some more. Next round is on me.”
I study the broken man sitting opposite me. It’s like losing this baby has forced him to reflect back on all the mistakes he’s made. I know we’re not going to fix years of dysfunction overnight, but if the guy wants to try, who am I to say no?
I smile, remembering Brie’s words again. I’m the bigger man, that’s who.
I plunk twenty-five bucks down on the table. That should cover the tab and tip. “Tell you what. How about I come out to the Hamptons Christmas Eve? Spend a couple of days. We can talk all you want then.”
He finishes his beer then clears his throat. “I’d like that.”
“Good.” I push my chair back and stand, shrugging on my coat and grabbing my briefcase. “Now I’ve got to go see about a girl.”
“Woman,” my father corrects, grinning. It’s the first real smile I’ve seen on him tonight, and it takes years off his face. “Bring her with you for the holidays. Tell her I’ll try not to behave like an ass this time.”
He stands, sticks out a hand for me to shake, then changes his mind and pulls me into a hug, chuckling. “And if I do, she can always read me the riot act again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Brie
“CUT.”
The director makes a slashing motion with his hand and I break character, swiping a tear off my cheek. Damn that scene was rough. Richard wasn’t kidding when he said he saved the hardest one for last. But he was right. It gave me time to really inhabit my role, making her emotional courtroom confrontation with the man who assaulted her that much more powerful.
“That’s it, people. This scene is in the can, and we’re done for the day. Which means, sadly, that Brie has finished filming and will be leaving us.” Richard hops down off his director’s chair and comes over to give me a huge hug. “Beautiful work, love. Really beautiful.”
The cast and crew break into applause, and I blink back tears. This has been the absolute best experience, with the most amazing group of people. In the few short weeks that I’ve been here, they’ve become like a second family to me.
I’ve been on enough sets to know how lucky I am. Not every shoot is like this. The only thing that would make it better is if Connor were here with me. Or at least waiting for me when I get home. But with the way we left things, I know that’s not going to happen.
“Thanks everyone,” I choke out. “I’m going to miss you all so much.”
I swallow the lump in my throat and hug Richard back even harder. I owe him for taking a chance on me after the whole award ceremony fiasco. And he’s already talking about a possible role for me in his next movie.
Richard releases me to go confer with our second AD about tomorrow’s schedule, and Tom, the happily married father of two who plays my rapist, throws an arm around my shoulder. “None of that mushy stuff. Not yet. We’ve got your wrap party to go to tonight. Rumor has it there’s going to be a taco and tequila bar.”
“Oh, goodie. I love tacos. And tequila. Not necessarily in that order.”
I put on a brave face and let him lead me from the soundstage we’re filming on to the back of the building where our dressing rooms are located. We stop outside my door, and he leans against the jamb, crossing his arms.
