Page 86 of Take 2
I put my glass on the dresser and scrub my hand over my face. Anything else I’ve ever called her would be decidedly worse. “I had no idea Lisa was your agent.”
“Well, you wouldn’t.” Her words drip with rage.
“No, no. When you told me you signed with an agent, it was someone else.”
“Interesting that you would know that since you never answered my text about it.” She says it like I just didn’t want totalk to her. Before I can respond, she keeps going. “It shouldn’t be such a huge shock that my agent dropped me. You’ve done it too.”
Blood drains from my head, and I lean back against the wall. “You don’t get to make it sound like I left you.” She was the one who suggested we divorce. Not that she didn’t have good reasons, but I didn’t think it would go there. Bella was always the one who knew what she wanted, so if it wasn’t me, I wasn’t going to try to force her to stay.
“We’re not talking about that again,” she says. “There are farcrazier things going on here, aren’t there?”
“So, I wrote a movie.”
“You don’t say!” Her voice is high-pitched in a way that’s bordering on hysteria. “Not just any movie. A good one. It’sOscar bait.Or so I hear.”
“I really doubt—”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short, Ryan. I’m sorry.Preston.What the fuck is that about?”
“It’s my middle—”
“I am very aware it’s your middle name. It was on my fucking marriage certificate!”
I wasn’t informing her it’s my middle name, but what the fuck am I doing? I’ve imagined telling her all this a million times. It would appear the time has come. “I didn’t want to be the transformation of the jock story. I didn’t want to be pigeonholed towritesports stories. And I didn’t want us to have a public rivalry or Kathryn Bigelow-James Cameron type situation.” My manager’s first job was to make sure no casual Googler could put screenwriter Preston Greene together with Wisconsin football player Ryan Greene. I owe Bella that much and so much more. She had already wiped her social media of any mention of me, and I didn’t have much of any.
She narrows her eyes at me. I stay in the opposite corner from her, so the need to hold her face and see her eyes up close can’t beat out my sense.
“To be clear,” I say, “the speculation would have to be that I rode into this onyourcoattails.”
“Sure it would.” She clasps her hands together and stretches her arms out in front of her.
“Are you okay?” It’s the stupidest question on earth, but my brain isn’t fully functioning.
“I really need to bury my face in something. But makeup. And …” She drops her hands onto the top of her lowered head, and a muted scream screeches from her like a long note on a violin.
“I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have signed with Lisa. I wouldn’t have come here. I wouldn’t have brought …”
“Nicole, who you’re fucking now?”
I blow out a breath. “Can we not?”
“Of course.” She stands and smooths her dress. The ones she wore the last two years looked like Oscars dress sex was off the table. She looked great, of course. The yellow one last year was cute and made me miss our college days. That jumpsuit thing from our first year apart was nice looking, but I wasn’t upset there was no access for my favorite tradition to take place without me. This year’s is sexy in a way that strains muscles in all the wrong places.Don’t look at the bed. Don’t look at the bed. Don’t look at the bed.“Well, I brought a date too, so …”
“He’s gay.”
She sneers. “That’s presumptive.”
“It’s true.”
The sheer panels down the sides of her dress go on display when she plants her hands on her hips. “Here’s what we’re going to do. As far aseveryoneis concerned, we just met tonight. Okay?”
“All right.”
There’s so much I want to ask her. So much I want to tell her. But it’s not the time. Not just because this is a nightmare. It’s too soon.
“What about as far as we’re concerned?” I ask.
“I don’t foresee us being alone ever again anyway,”—I wince at the wordever—“but I did sayeveryone.Shouldn’t be a problem because I really don’t feel like I know you at all. So again,Preston,it was nice to meet you.”
