Page 9 of Broken Romeo

I cling to that glimmer of hope.

“I know how this looks.” I take a calm step toward him.

Kate would never, could never, step into Holden’s personal space like this. But right now, I’m not Kate. I’m Skyler. “But it’s not what you think. I didn’t—”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t lie? Right to my face.”

I swallow, my breath catching in my chest. It’s too real. Too raw. Too close to home. When I look into his eyes, he’s still scowling. His nostrils flare and that broad jaw catches again.

Stay with me, I can almost hear him say.

“Yes, I lied. For you.”

Caught up in the moment, I reach out with my free hand and clutch at his bicep, holding him, bracing against him. His muscles are larger, firmer than years ago, and they twitch beneath my palm.

“For us.” I can barely get the words out. They choke at the back of my throat and come out tight. Shrill. “Sometimes, we lie because we have to. To protect those we love the most!”

I grasp his shirt, tugging him to me, but he barely budges. That rich scent of his surrounds me, fogging my thoughts.

“Love?” His hoarse whisper sends a rush of air against my face, blowing my bangs momentarily off my forehead.

“Yes.” I blink, staring into his eyes. The moment lingers, tense. I sit in it for far longer than is comfortable as the heat spreads from my forehead down my eyes, burning my nose. “I love you.”

Those three words are a sob.

“And Scene,” Holden says.

He snaps out of character and steps back, out of my space. Away from my touch. The thick, heady energy cracks in half and falls to the floor between our feet.

I love you. It isn’t the first time I’ve said those words to him. But by God, it will be the last. It has to be.

I’d forgotten how damn talented Holden actually is. Not only as an actor, but as a director. He’s harsh, yes, but I can admit, he produces results. Even if it’s at the expense of my heart.

I vaguely register the sound of clapping coming from the table of producers.

“Very nice, Kate,” one of the women at the table says, but I don’t respond.

Holden turns away from me, stalking back to his team.

“Thank you, Katherine. We’ll be making our final decision in the next day or two,” he says without even a glance over his shoulder.

I know that tone; I’m dismissed.

That’s all I get. Not a handshake. Not even a nod of acknowledgment or eye contact.

Not even a goodbye.

History always repeats itself.

I clear my throat, the jitters from the character receding, but I’m still drunk on the potent presence of acting alongside Holden. He’s always been a force on the stage, and that hasn’t changed.

But unlike Holden, I can never just snap out of a scene that quickly and go back to being me. Mine is more like a slow fade to black rather than his flip of a switch.

Maggie smiles at me in that practiced way of hers and leads me out of the theater. We barely get out the door when I groan.

“My purse,” I say. “I left it in the last row of the theater.”

“Oh!” Maggie catches the door with her foot just before it closes and yanks it back open. “Go grab it.”

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