Page 89 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

“Don’t.” Her voice is raw, as if it’s been ripped to shreds by broken glass. “Just… don’t, Ethan.”

She finally turns to face me, and the pain in her eyes nearly knocks me off the bench. There’s anger there, sure, but beneath it… God, there’s so much hurt. Hurt that I caused. Hurt that goes way deeper than our petty squabbles on set. I watch as she discreetly wipes away another tear, and a weight presses down on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Not by a long shot. “I didn’t mean—”

She cuts me off, her gaze piercing. “Yes, you did. You’ve wanted to say those things for a long time.”

She’s not wrong. Yeah, I’ve had those thoughts. I’ve nursed my resentment, fed it with every criticism, every demanding note, every impossibly long filming day with her. But now, seeing the toll it’s taken on both of us, I want…

Christ, I don’t even know what I want. To understand her? To make things right? To be the kind of partner—on screen and off—that she deserves?

But as I see her shrink back, hiding behind her walls I helped strengthen, I’m scared it might be too late.

Have I pushed her too far?

Is there any coming back from this?

I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “Look, we’ve got time to kill in this fancy suite. Might as well lay it all out there.” I lock eyes with her, refusing to look away. “I’ve always wondered. What was it that I did when we first started working together that made you hate me?”

She uncrosses her arms, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I don’t hate you, Ethan,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “You just… You made my job so much harder with all your bullshit on set.”

“I thought I was keeping things fun. Our movies are meant to be lighthearted, you know? A little improv adds to the vibe.”

“It also adds hours to our shoots and increases the budget,” Chase counters weakly, as if the very memory is exhausting. “So then I have to cut back on other scenes and endure constant lectures from the network executives.”

My heart sinks, and shame floods through me. “I’m an idiot. I should have realized how it affected everything,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “I… I didn’t know. Never saw it that way. I’m sorry, Chase. Really.”

Chase’s expression softens a little. “It’s not your job to know. It’s mine.”

“I bet you’re sorry you ever hired me, huh?” The words come out more vulnerable than I intended.

“No, of course not,” Chase says, surprising me. She pauses, and I can see her carefully choosing her next words. “I might have reconsidered had I known we’d be at each other’s throats every day on set. My stomach has more ulcers than there are freckles on your perfect tushy.”

A laugh bursts out of me, unexpectedly. Chase’s lips curve into a small smile, and for a beat, we’re both at ease.

She sighs. “And I’m sorry too. For the things I said, for pushing you so hard without explaining why. Ethan, you’re more than apretty face and perfect abs. But let’s be clear, those features are ridiculously and unfairly incredible.”

I flash her a grin at the praise, and then we sit in silence for a moment, letting the significance of our apologies sink in.

“Why do you push me so hard? Why bother?”

Chase looks at me, and the intensity in her gaze takes my breath away.

“Because I see what you could be. There was something in your audition that just… Wow. Raw talent, depth, everything. I’ve been trying to bring back that Ethan ever since. But all I get is the heartthrob, the charmer. You’re so much more than that. You just won’t let yourself be seen.”

I clear my throat, suddenly feeling exposed. “I didn’t think anyone noticed,” I admit quietly. “It’s easier to be the charming goofball. Safer.”

Chase says softly, “I get it. It’s terrifying to let people see therealyou. But with me, I want you to know you don’t have to hide.”

Our eyes lock, and for a long moment, neither of us speaks. I stand up to pace the small cell, my nerves suddenly on edge.

“This… This thing between us,” I start, the words feeling clumsy on my tongue. “I don’t know what it is, but—”

“Oh my God, Ethan, it’s nothing,” she interrupts, her voice sharp, her expression hardening. “We slept together. We’re not falling for each other.”

“Why not? Chase, I like you. Really like you. And I think… I think you might like me too.”

She scoffs, but it sounds forced. “You like your fan club and your women of the week. And I’m not judging, but let’s not pretend this is something it’s not.”

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