Broken Juliet (28 page)

There’s silence then, “Uh-huh. You don’t have your umbrella?”

His tone immediately sets me on edge. “Well, yeah, but it’s a storm. Connor’s car was parked behind the theater. Plus, it’s ten o’clock at night.”

Next to me, Connor shakes his head ever so slightly. It frustrates us both that Ethan gets like this every time we’re together. He must know by now that his fear is unnecessary. Does he honestly believe I’ll suddenly develop an overwhelming urge to fuck Connor, because we’re alone in a car?

“Hang on,” I say, and grab my bag. “I’ll talk to you when I get inside.” I push the hold button, and sigh. “Thanks, Connor. See you tomorrow.”

“No problem. Have a good night.” He gives me a look that says he knows the rest of this phone call isn’t going to be pleasant. I exit the car as quickly as possible, then race through the downpour to my front door.

When I get inside, I strip off my jacket and take Ethan off hold.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” His voice is all kinds of pissed. I stifle a groan. I’m too tired to deal with this right now.

“Ethan, it was a five-minute car ride. What the hell do you have to be worried about?”

“I don’t know, Cassie. You tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell! Do you have so little faith in me that you think I’d even contemplate doing anything with Connor?”

“Well, you seem to be spending all of your time with him these days. Perhaps you’re confused about who’s your actual boyfriend and who’s the annoying fuck trying to get into your pants.”

“He’s not trying to get into my pants! How many times do I have to tell you that?”

“Cassie, I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“Who cares how he looks at me? He’s never, and I mean never, tried anything! He’s been a perfect gentleman, despite how rude you are to him all the time.”

“Oh, sure, a perfect gentleman who’s spent the better part of six weeks groping your tits.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” I rub my eyes. “I can’t do this with you right now. I really can’t. You’re wearing me out. We have the most important performance of our lives in four days, and right now you’re tying yourself in knots and taking me with you. You have to stop. Seriously.”

He sighs and goes silent.

I hate fighting with him, especially over the phone. If he were here, I could touch him. Show I love him and only him. As it is, I can just picture him, tense-jawed as he jumps to all the wrong conclusions. Doubting himself enough to doubt me.

“Yeah. Okay. Well, I’d better go. Good night.”

“Wait.”

He pauses. “What?”

“Do you want to come over when your rehearsal is done?”

“Why?”

“Because … I miss you and want to see you.”

“Cassie, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted.”

“So? Just come over and sleep here. Please.”

“I don’t think so. You need to rest and you just admitted I’m wearing you out.”

“Ethan…”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

The line goes dead, and I flop back onto the sofa.

Crap.

I pull off my wet shoes and socks, then send him a text.

Predictably, I don’t get a reply

Half an hour later, I’m getting out of the shower when there’s a knock at the door. I put on my robe and answer it to see Ethan there, drenched.

“What are you doing? You’re soaked!”

“You asked me to come over, remember? I’ve been knocking for five minutes.” He looks past me into the apartment. “What the hell took you so long?”

“I was in the shower.”

I can see suspicion all over his face, and I roll my eyes as I grab the front of his shirt and drag him inside.

“Stay,” I say, and leave him dripping on the rug as I head off to grab some towels.

When I get back, I throw a towel over his head and roughly dry his hair.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?”

“Why?”

I push him down onto the sofa and pull off his shoes and socks.

“Because you have absolutely no clue how much I love you.” I unbutton his shirt and pull it off. “And you think stupid, impossible things, like I could want anyone but you.”

“Cassie…”

“Shut up.”

I pull him to his feet and gesture to the bedroom. “Go take a look.”

He frowns. “What?”

“Go look to make sure Connor isn’t in my bed. Check the closet, too. And Ruby’s room. While you’re at it, you might as well check my phone and computer. Make sure I’m not cyber- or text-fucking him.”

He drops his head.

“Go on. Look.”

He drags his fingers through his hair and pushes it off his forehead. “I don’t need to look.”

“Don’t you?”

“No.” He walks over and puts his arms around me. “You’re right. I am an idiot.”

He buries his head in my neck, and that’s all it takes to defuse me. Then he presses his lips against my pulse, and I’m all wound up again.

Why doesn’t he understand this is what I want? This crazy
ü
ber-lust he can elicit with a single brush of his lips. Doesn’t he get that no one will ever make me feel the way he does?

Dumb man.

He pulls open my robe, and gentle fingers trail apologies all over me.

“Tell me you love me again,” he whispers.

I cup his face. “I love you. More than that, I’m completely in love with you. Stop being ridiculous, please.” I kiss his chest and feel the rapid pounding beneath the muscle.

“I’ll try. It’s not easy. I’ve been this way for too long.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Please inform my brain of that. It won’t listen to me.”

“Take me to bed. That’ll make your brain shut up.”

He scoops me up and carries me to the bedroom. I kiss him and touch him in all the ways I know he likes, as I try to chase away his fears for a while.

When we finally join, I see him let go of the doubt. But I know from experience that this sexual exorcism won’t last long though. We’ll make love and fall asleep in each other’s arms, and everything will be perfect, but in the morning the shadows will return.

I keep telling myself that if we can just make it to graduation, we’ll be okay. Connor will go his way, and I’ll go mine, and Ethan will have no reason to doubt anymore. But the logical part of me whispers that there’ll always be a Connor. Someone who threatens him and makes him feel like he’s going to lose me. And even though it will never, ever be true, I have no idea how to convince him otherwise.

After a few seconds, I realize I’ve gone silent.

I look up to find Dr. Kate staring at me.

“Are you okay?”

I don’t answer.

“Just breathe, Cassie. Allow everything you’re feeling to have its moment, then let it go. Every breath will lessen the anxiety. You don’t need it anymore.”

I take deep breaths. The more I do it, the easier it gets.

After a couple of minutes, I feel calm enough to open my eyes.

Dr. Kate gives me a warm smile. “Well done. How do you feel?”

“Drained.”

“Good. That means you’re purging. Each time you do it, your emotional burden will lessen, and that’s our goal.”

She looks at the clock. “We have a few minutes left. Is there anything else that’s been weighing on your mind?”

I take another slow breath and let it out before saying, “I sometimes get this overwhelming sense of … guilt about Ethan, when things started going wrong.”

“About what?”

I shake my head. “How I couldn’t help him. I feel like a lot of this stuff is my fault, because I wasn’t strong enough or clever enough or patient enough to help him change.”

She puts down her notebook and takes off her glasses. “Cassie, let me assure you, it’s not possible to change people. You can encourage and support them, but that’s about it. The rest is up to them.”

“But I feel like I should’ve done more.”

She looks at me for a few seconds, then crosses her legs. “Do you like books?”

For a moment, I’m thrown by her sudden left turn. “Um … Yes.”

“Well,” she says as she laces her fingers together, “let’s say people were books. Everyone who comes into our lives is given a glimpse of a few of our pages. If they like us, we show them more pages. If we like them, we want them to see the unedited parts. Some people may make notes in the margins. Leave their marks upon us and our story. But ultimately, the words that are printed—that represent us as a person—don’t change without our permission.”

She leans forward and gives me a smile.

“You had a huge impact on Ethan. No doubt, in the story of his life, you’ve left your mark everywhere. It’s unfortunate that a lot of other people did as well. Ethan made a choice to delete their contributions and only keep the things that made him stronger. He reprinted himself, if you like. The only person who was capable of doing that was Ethan. Just like the only person who can rewrite your story and how it ends is you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nod, because what she’s saying makes perfect sense. And the realization that all the therapy in world isn’t going to help me unless I take the responsibility for helping myself is both terrifying and exhilarating.

She pats me on the arm. “Well, our time is up. I’ll see you in a few days. In the meantime, try not to be too hard on yourself, and please wish Ethan all the best for me.”

“I will. Thanks.”

When I step out into the waiting room, Ethan’s there. He closes the book he’s reading and stands.

After the roller coaster of emotions I’ve just experienced, I’m amazed at how happy I am to see him.

The way he looks at me makes me warm all over.

“Good session?”

I smile and go to him. “Pretty good. Watcha reading?”

He holds it up for me to see.

“
The Art of Happiness
?”

“It’s written by the Dalai Lama.”

“So just a light read, then.”

He shakes his head. “Not light, but definitely worth it.”

“Yeah? What does it say?”

He steps forward, his expression serious. “In a nutshell, it says ‘Make Cassie smile every day and tell her you love her even when she doesn’t want to hear it.’”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Excess emotion wells up.

He doesn’t help by wrapping his arms around me like he never wants to let go.

I don’t want to let go, either.

The thing is, if people were books, Ethan would be a bestseller. A sexy, intelligent, page-turner you’d find hard to put down, even after it reduced you to a sobbing mess.

TWENTY-ONE

ENCORE

Three Years Earlier

Westchester, New York

The Grove

Senior Showcase

We wrap around each other like we’re all that’s holding each other to the earth. Adrenaline pumps through me, and even though snuggling with Ethan helps channel my nerves, I can’t get rid of them completely. Neither can he. This performance is too important.

A few nerves will do us good. Raise our energy. Keep us on point.

When the call comes to take our places, I pull back and look into his eyes. He strokes my face and looks back with love, but there are also flickers of something else.

Doubt?

Fear?

Both?

We head down to the stage, and the show begins. Our scene is first.
Romeo and Juliet
. Performing with him is so easy. We tap into our connection effortlessly. The scene is flawless, and after we take our bow, he leads me offstage and kisses me in triumph before running off to get changed.

The rest of the night passes in a blur. We do scenes and monologues, take our applause, and get changed into our next costumes. We see each other briefly backstage, but we’re focused on what we’re doing as we slip out of one character and step into another. Show our range. Impress the audience. It’s not just people filling those seats tonight, it’s representation and contracts, too. It’s our futures.

Ethan and I rise to the challenge. Despite our nerves, we both perform incredibly well.

The last scene of the night is
Portrait
with me and Connor. I’m confident and in the moment. Connor and I are on fire. The energy onstage crackles with realism, and it’s not until I take my bow that I see Ethan, stony-faced, in the wings. My smile drops. He hasn’t witnessed this scene before. I’d made sure of that.

After our fight a few days ago, I’d begged him not to watch it tonight.

Obviously he’s done listening to me.

I barely look at him as I exit the stage.

Present Day

New York City, New York

Graumann Theater

Opening Night

Every opening night is a mixture of excitement and fear, but this one … well, it’s even worse. I have to do my eyeliner three times because my hand is shaking so much, and when the production intern, Cody, knocks on the door to find out if I need anything, I just about jump out of my skin.

“You okay, Miss Taylor?” he asks.

“Yeah, fine.”

“You’re ready early.”

“Yeah, well, I have a lot of panicking to do. I need to allow enough time to fit it all in.”

“You don’t need to panic. You’re amazing. The show’s fantastic.”

“Yes, but every Broadway reviewer worth their salt is here tonight. The asshole from the
New York Times
is out there, for God’s sake, and he makes a habit out of not liking things just to piss people off.”