Page 49 of Falling Like Stars

“Sure, sure,” he says, and I feel his hand on the center of my back, heavy and strong. His fingers could easily wrap around my neck. His weight could crush me if I were under him. Inescapable. He might not have “nefarious intentions,” but I wouldn’t know until it’s too late.

Riggs’ breath wafts over my shoulder, sour and beer stained. “I’ll be waiting.”

I hurry to the bathroom, shut and lock the door, then grip the sides of the sink that is yellowed and littered with beard hair. I suck in deep breaths. The woman in the mirror looks ill, eyes glassy and terrified.

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

She has no answer, not in words. But deep down, a small, lonely voice tells me that it isn’t too late with Zach. It isn’t too late for me to have more than whatever this is.

“How?” I murmur and tears threaten to break.

Riggs calls from the other room, “Did you fall in? Hurry up, now.”

I don’t know how to fix my life, but I know spending one more fucking second in this hotel room isn’t it.

I open the door slowly. Riggs is on the bed, naked. His flaccid dick lays against his thigh and his smile for me is dirty. Expectant.

“Why don’t you come over here and put your sweet mouth on this?”

“I’ll pass,” I say, and head straight for the door.

“Hey, what…?”

I’m outside the room and closing the door behind me before Riggs can even sit up. There’s a curse and a thump. He’s drunk and fallen but maybe coming after me.

My room is steps away, but I run. My heart is pounding and then it practically jumps out of my chest. Zachary Butler is standing in the hallway in front of my door. We both freeze, and then his gaze moves between me and the room I just came out of. As he puts the two together, a look comes over his face…his beautiful, handsome face that can’t keep anything inside, that reveals his every thought and emotion so perfectly, that wins him roles and awards but is also just part of his own goodness… It’s a look that is an excruciating mix of betrayal, regret, and revulsion. Something inside me dies.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice low.

I nod with jerking movements. My jaw works, but no sound comes out. Silence fills the hallway; Riggs has likely—hopefully—passed out.

Zachary nods once, then strides past me. He goes to his room, unlocks the door, and steps inside.

I’m left with the sound of the door between us closing and locking; a sound that follows me into my sleep, into my dreams of what might’ve been.

A week later, I’m in my cabin in the woods. Aside from a text to let J.J. know I’m alive, I haven’t talked to anyone or left the house for any reason. Haven’t left the couch much, either. This evening, I’m curled up, clutching a pillow, and watching TV. The Academy Awards pre-show is on, and the stars are walking the red carpet.

Zachary is there, devastating in a black tux, but unsmiling. He looks like he hasn’t smiled in a year or has forgotten how. Eva Dean is on his arm, waving to the crowd while looking beautiful in a pale bejeweled dress.

She smiles enough for both of them.

Chapter Fourteen

THE FLASHBULBS ARE relentless. After more than ten years, I should be used to the seizure-inducing lights, but I’ll have a ripping headache later. This is part of the job; I go into automatic Red-Carpet Mode, posing without making it look like I’m posing. I make eye contact with as many photographers as possible to ensure good shots, and I obey their shouted commands to look left, right, and over here.

Eva’s hand squeezes the crook of my arm, her nails digging through the silk of my tux sleeve. “Fix your face,” she grits out through her teeth. She’s mastered the art of sniping at me without breaking her smile. “You look like you have dysentery.”

I ignore her, even though she’s right; my publicist is going to have to spin my dour looks later, but I don’t care.

What a colossal shit show.

I’d wrapped Midnight Skies and headed straight back to our huge house in Los Angeles where I told Eva I’d take her to the awards show. She was thrilled, but it caused the Oscar producers a last-minute hassle to rearrange our seats and sent my team into a frenzy. Normally, I’d try to avoid wreaking that kind of havoc, but I found I’d ceased caring about a lot of things since I saw Rowan step out of another man’s hotel room.

I’m not any better, I think as I pose with Eva for this endless stream of photos. Whatever demons Rowan is battling, I have them too. Running straight back to Eva at the first sign that she was her old self.

This fucking heart, I think as the flashes keep coming. I don’t know where to put it.

Eva took our master bedroom, and I took one of the other five spares, both of us agreeing we’d work out a division of property after the Oscars. She doesn’t have the cash to keep the house, so it was agreed I’d sell it.

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