Page 105 of Falling Like Stars

The suite is a big one, with a living area in front of a kitchenette. Eva is there, unloading groceries onto the counter. She wears tight-fitting athletic pants and a sports bra—coming from or going to a workout. My gaze goes to her flat and toned midsection, as if I could glean a clue about my future. Her high ponytail bounces with her around the kitchen, as she hums and unloads heads of lettuce, bottles of sparkling water, and a jar of pasta sauce from a gourmet grocery store.

“You actually showed up. What an honor,” Eva says as I shut the door behind me. She pulls out a carton of strawberries from the bag and sets it on the counter. “So. You sold the house.”

I stand with my arms crossed. “I did.”

“I want half,” she states. “We made Godsent together and Godsent is what bought the house.”

Technically, What You Left Behind, the movie I did at the end of season five, is what bought the house, but she’s right. Godsent is why I have a career and Eva was half of that show. She was half of my life, but now it feels like I imagined it all—a dream come true that slowly became my worst nightmare.

“Fine.” I move to sit in a plush chair facing the kitchenette and rest my forearms on my knees.

“That’s it?” Eva’s smile is bright, but her eyes are cold. “You caved faster than I thought you would.”

She’s itching for a fight. I won’t give it to her; I let the remark bounce off me. “You could’ve gotten this from my lawyer.”

“Yet here you are,” she says with a triumphant smirk.

“As if I had a choice.” I pin her with a hard look. “The Instagram post. Is it real?”

I brace myself for the answer, but Eva looks away and busies herself putting things in the fridge.

“How is what’s-her-face? Making a name for herself in the costume world? I heard she had quite the meltdown.”

My jaw clenches, but I force myself to remain calm. “Did your good buddy, Laurent, tell you that? Did he mention he stole Rowan’s designs and passed them off as his own?”

Eva rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t be so naïve. The business is cutthroat. Everything in Hollywood is cutthroat. If your little girlfriend can’t handle the pressure, she should get out.”

“There’s pressure and then there’s watching your work get stolen out from under you.” My voice turns low. “Did you put him up to it?”

“Be serious, Zach. All I know is she freaked out and quit the production.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“What do I care? Laurent has been borrowing from his underlings for years. So what? Everyone does stuff like that because they have to.”

“It’s theft.”

“It’s surviving. You know the score. Even in our business, agents take great ideas from the slush pile and give them to big name writers. It’s just how the game is played.”

“So, he’s done this before?”

Eva narrows her eyes at me from across the counter. “Don’t tell me you came all this way to defend your new nobody of a girlfriend. You’re wasting your breath. And if she thinks about squealing, she’s wasting hers. Who do you think they’ll believe?”

I nod and mentally prepare for round two.

“You’re right, that’s not why I’m here.” I lean back in the chair. “Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

Eva makes a face I can’t read. “Not for lack of trying.”

“What does that mean? You tried?”

Before she can answer, a red-hot fountain of rage rises in my blood, filled with every instant of pain, shock, and violence from the past few years. It pulls me to my feet with such force, the chair tips over.

“You tried? What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout. “Fuck that! What happened to you, Eva? Did something happen? Did someone hurt you or—?”

“Yes, someone hurt me!” she cries back, slamming down a carton of skim milk so that its edges bend and leak all over the counter. “You! You hurt me, Zach! In the worst way!”

“What did I do? Please, for the love of God, once and for all, tell me what the fuck I did wrong, Eva. For years you’ve acted like you hate me. Why?”

---