Page 36 of Accidentally Wed to My Enemy

“You were good today,” I said, for something to say. “Your work, I mean, not… not the kiss.”

Lacey’s gaze darted back to me, then drifted away. She watched the waves lap the shore, her lips pressed together. I cleared my dry throat and tried again.

“I mean that. You really bring something to Kate, this sense of defiance that’s not in the script. Like, her story’s a tragedy, and she knows she’ll die young, but she fights it so hard, she—”

“Why’d you say it?”

I quit babbling. “What?”

“What you said to that reporter. The start of our feud.” She turned her back on me and her shoulders went tense. “Overrated,you said.Coasting on looks. I’d never even met you, so why would you say that?”

“I didn’t.”

Lacey laughed, soft and bitter. “You didn’t, huh? And how about the rest of it, and all that came after?Talentless, you called me. A hack. A try-hard. What’s wrong with trying? Is hard work not cool?”

I sagged, my limbs heavy with sudden exhaustion — not physical tiredness but drama-fatigue. This feud, this nonsense, had gone on too long. I hissed my frustration, sharp through my teeth.

“You don’t have to believe me, but it’s true. I never said that. Or I did, in a way, but not in that context. What I said was, it would be easy to dismiss you as coasting on looks. As just another blonde starlet having her day. But then after that, I said that’s not true. I said you’re underrated. You deserve more. I told them just wait, and they’d see you take off. They’d see who you really are, and that’s not just some prom queen.”

Lacey started to say something, then cut herself off.

“It was loud,” I went on. “They could’ve misheard me. Or done it on purpose to stir up some drama. But I swear, I never said that. Ask Sam. He was there.”

“Then why…” Lacey paused, shaking her head. “Why didn’t you reach out right then and set the record straight?”

“Well, that’s because—” I bit my tongue. I’d said what I said at a noisy premiere bash, then slipped out the back door not ten minutes later, rushing to catch a flight to Australia. By the time I’d touched down and found my hotel, caught four hours of sleep and met my new director, Lacey’s clapback had already gone viral. It had been scathing and it had beenspecific, all my worst insecurities flung in my face.

Her soundbite still echoed snide in my ears:who, Eric Harper? Don’t make me laugh. He's like one of those heads off Easter Island, rock-hard, square-jawed, brain full of granite. He thinksI’mcoasting on looks? Has he looked in a mirror? This is him in a comedy.She fixed the camera with a blank look.Tragedy.Blank look.Jumping out of a plane with a basket of puppies.She stared into the camera, dead-eyed, blank-faced.

I’d come a long way since then, but I still flinched sometimes, looking at some of my earlier work. I’d tried so hard to be subtle I’d come off as wooden. Not smartly nuanced, like I’d imagined, but stiff as a board. A head carved in granite.

Lacey frowned. “Because what?”

I swallowed hard. I couldn’t tell her all that. Couldn’t tell her she’d hurt me. Made me feel stupid. The thought of being that open made me feel naked, so I laughed, soft and rueful, and circled around it.

“Your clapback,” I said. “You were so mean. Sosassy. I couldn’t shrink from the challenge.”

Lacey’s jaw dropped. “The challenge? You—”

“Besides, admit it. It’s been kind of fun.” I tipped her a wink. “What was it you called me last year, around Christmas? A scruffy-chinned, caveman-browed, chest-thumping ape man? Tell me you didn’tsmile when you came up with that.”

Lacey’s mouth twisted. “I mean… I might have. But that clapback, oh man. I wish you’d reached out.”

“So you could say it all right to my face?”

“So I could tell you there was more to that clip. More at the end, after the mean stuff. I mean, yeah, I was hurt, and I wanted you to know it, but once I was done venting, I said I was kidding. I said you had talent and I’d seen all your movies, and I always looked up to you, so why— why’d you say it? And now you’re telling me you never did?”

“And you didn’t either, or not like I thought.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, holding back laughter. “It’s like one of your rom-coms, all a misunderstanding. One stupid misquote, and we’re off to the races.”

“They played us,” said Lacey. “The tabloids, I mean. I feel bad now, for the mean things I did say. And the way I’ve been acting, all the pettiness on set.”

“Me too,” I said. “I’m sorry I didn’t speak up sooner. I could’ve been a grownup, but—”

“So could I.”

“I’d love to start over, if you’d go for that. You and me, a clean slate. Think it could work?” I held out my hands, and Lacey took them. She pulled them to her chest, half-handshake, half-hug.

“A fresh start,” she said. “Yeah. I’d love that.” A glimmer of mischief lit up her green eyes. “Tell me more about how underrated I am.”

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