“I could be having a movie night right now. Watching A Star is Born.”
His jaw ticks and a rope tightens against his throat as he works a swallow. “I heard. You and Nolan have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
There it is.
The confirmation I’ve been waiting on all week that he’d seen the blogs and the reports about Nolan and me. And yet, it isn’t as triumphant as I’d hoped. Holden presses his palm into the small of my back, guiding me outside.
“We have,” I say, pulling out all my method acting tricks I’ve learned through the years. I’m a terrible liar, so if he point blank asks me if Nolan and I are a thing, Holden will know in a second that I’m lying. “I can’t imagine you of all people would have a problem with that.”
“Me of all people,” he murmurs, his index finger brushing his top lip. “Why’s that?”
Because you chose her. The words are right there. Right on the tip of my tongue, but they strangle in my mouth. And instead, I answer, “Because your two stars bonding is good for the show. Good for our chemistry… on stage, of course.”
“Of course,” Holden says, the word merely a whisper with his exhale. I didn’t realize that I moved closer, clinging to him like he’s my life preserver in a tumultuous ocean. “As your director, I don’t have a problem with it.”
He circles around me like a shark in the water. Then, pausing at my shoulder, he leans in, his mouth dangerously close to my ear, he whispers, “But as your ex, I have a big, fucking problem with it.”
I gulp, willing my body not to respond. “It’s because you’re my ex that you have no right to have a problem with it.”
His hands fall to my hips, guiding me closer to the lookout point of the top of the Empire State Building. “Almost there, Kate,” Holden says, his hot breath skimming across my ear. “Step up. Put your hands on the railing.”
My breath stalls. We’re merely two steps away from the ledge. The air is thinner, and I gulp in deeper breaths to get even a fraction of the same oxygen I normally do.
I squeeze my eyes shut as panic crawls up my throat from the pit of my stomach. With my eyes closed, it only makes the sensation worse as the world spins in darkness around me. I snap my eyes back open before my tea has a chance to come rushing back up and land somewhere in a pool of vomit eighty stories below me.
“I can’t,” I squeak, a faint thread of hysteria in my voice. I shake my head vigorously, barely able to see through the tears coating my eyes.
“Come on, Katherine,” Holden whispers. “You can do this. It’s in your head. You’re completely safe. Grab the railing and step up.”
I clench my jaw to kill the sob welling in my throat. Curving my fingers around the warm, metal handrail, I brace myself against the ice-cold fear twisting around my heart and step up onto the ledge.
My stomach clenches tight.
My lungs burn.
It’s impossible to hear anything over my erratic, hammering pulse.
“Stop looking at your feet. Look at the city. Your city. Your home.”
I choke back a frightened, amplified cry and slowly lift my chin.
City lights sparkle back, winking at me in the inky night. Anxiety flutters through me, but it’s combined with something else. Awe. Beauty.
My breath is still ragged, and I struggle with each inhale and exhale to keep it steady. But there’s also something new blossoming inside of me. A release of fear. The unwelcomed cold knot in my stomach loosens, if only a little, and when I look at Holden standing next to me, gripping me tightly, his gaze spears into me.
A smile flickers against his otherwise stern mouth, softening him in a way that clenches my heart.
“You’re missing it,” he whispers.
“I’m not missing anything.”
Silence looms, the tension cabled in the inches between us morphing from anger and fear into something more potent and exhilarating.
His smile falters. “I hate to break this moment, but you’re going to hate me for what comes next.”
“There’s more?” The muscles in his forearm grow tense against my torso.
He pulls his cell phone free and holds it up, close to my ear. “I want you to sing your opening song from the show.”