Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“Okay.” I lean back against my desk, cupping my neck. “What do you need me to do?”
“I need you to reassure me that your shop is clean. I want to hear that these Heroes you cast are perfect goddamn gentlemen. That Fizzy could run for president if she wanted to. I want to hear that no one on your crew has wandering hands or a penchant for jerking off in front of people.” Dread fills my gut with a leaden weight. “I want to hear that the only fucking happening is the fucking Felicity Fucking Chen will do with the winner of this goddamn Fiji trip we are spending a small fortune on!”
With wry defeat, I exhale a laugh. I reckon it’s good we ended things; I’d have to end it now anyway. I fucking hate all of this.
Blaine takes a step closer, glowering. “Connor? I need the words.”
I swipe a hand down my face. “Yeah. We’re clean.”
“No bullshit, Connor,” he says, straightening. “You’re the only thing we have left right now, and if your show tanks, we go under. And you know what that means: you go under.”
forty CONNOR
Ash reaches across the table and tugs at my collar. “You look like me today.”
I peer down to see what he means. The sweater I pulled on as I left the office is on backward, with the tab sticking up against the front of my neck. How nice that the two women who stopped me for a photo before Ash arrived didn’t bother to tell me. I tug it over my head, putting it on the right way this time. “I’m a little distracted.”
“I can imagine.” He studies me for a beat. “You’re not on set today?”
I shrug, poking at my plate. “I was headed over when Blaine found me. I just needed to get my head on straight. I’ll head over in a bit. Shooting starts around three. Rory and Brenna’ve got things handled.”
“Ah. You’re avoiding her.”
I take a bite of melon instead of answering.
“What you ought to do is go home and sleep. You look like crap.”
I grunt in response, though I know I should do better. Ash has the day off for a teacher development thing that doesn’t start until this afternoon, and instead of lounging in bed with his wife, he’s here with me at brunch, listening to me explain again how my life is in the toilet.
I know it’s a good thing I ended my relationship with Fizzy, but a part of me was hoping Ash would say what I know deep down, that I needed to give her time to work through what was probably the hardest thing for her to hear me say. Unfortunately, after hearing the entire story—the hotel drama, Fizzy’s confession, and the situation with Trent’s show—Ash agrees that I probably did the right thing.
But I’ve never, not once in my life, felt this way, never been so into a woman that I considered risking my livelihood to be with her. And I hate how last night went, hate that she now feels like she can’t be straight with me if she’s panicked, that she can’t fuck up, too. I hate most of all that none of it matters anyway after Blaine’s ultimatum this morning.
Ash ducks, trying to catch my attention. “Conn.”
Meeting his eyes, I give a small “Yeah?”
“You know what Fizzy would say right now?”
“I’m dying to hear it.”
“It’s only hot for a hero to brood for, like, three-quarters of a book.”
A real laugh bursts out of me. “That is exactly what she would say.”
He grins at the compliment. “And you’re ignoring the very obvious silver lining,” he says brightly.
“Which is?”
“That now you know you’re ready for a relationship.”
I laugh again, but it’s back to sardonic. I can’t blame him for trying. Finding Ella was the best thing to ever happen to Ash. “There’s not a solid batch of evidence, Ash. Fizzy and I had a seesaw fling for a few weeks and then it ended before it even began.”
“But you were open to it.”
I lift the spoon to my lips, murmuring, “I fell for her against my will,” before taking a bite. “But yeah. I suppose.”
“Maybe this time you try DNADuo,” he says, slicing neatly into his omelet. “There are so many more users in the system now that it sounds like people are getting lots of good matches. A Gold Match isn’t rare anymore—one of the teachers at school even got two! He can meet them both, find the perfect fit. Can you imagine just being handed a list?” He takes a bite and stares at me with unmasked curiosity. “I’d love to see who your perfect fit is.”
I shove Fizzy’s face out of my thoughts and give a noncommittal hum. A few months ago, I would have described her as loud and unrelenting. Now I can’t imagine using those qualities as insults.