Within This Frame (23 page)

The wind brushed loose locks of hair in Maggie’s eyes as she looked at Lance.

“I love acting. I always have, always will,” she confessed. “But I hate the media aspect of it. Every bad review, every negative comment about me or the show or my acting ability, they all imbedded their claws in me, and I felt them. Sharp and deep. I already had self-image issues. So afraid I was going to get fat again, I already didn’t eat much. And with the stress of the show, it got worse.

“I just kept thinking if I lost more weight, if I pushed myself harder, I would be good enough. I told myself I would
make
everyone love me, but no matter what I did, I could never please them all. I was punishing myself for things out of my control. It wore me down—not just physically, but mentally as well. And . . .” She swallowed. “Even though I love acting, I don’t miss that feeling of never being good enough, of having to constantly prove myself. The judgment and criticism. I don’t miss feeling like I’m acting for everyone but me.”

The route was scenic, a good portion of it along the Mississippi river and the waterfront attractions. It looped around casinos, a museum and aquarium, and residential and business areas as well. Maggie set her hands on her hips and looked toward the water, the silence that followed her words unwelcome and uncomfortable.

Lance spoke first. “After a while, you feel like it isn’t you anymore. You don’t belong to you. You have this role to play, and it never ends, not even when the camera stops rolling. Because there is always someone to act for.

“One day you wake up and you don’t know who you are anymore. You belong to them—the directors, the producers, the media, the fans, all of them—and it kills something inside of you. Your body isn’t yours. Neither is your face. You’ve been told what to do for so long that now you’re this thing that needs constant direction, right?”

“Right,” she whispered. Maggie had wanted so badly to be pretend she was someone else, and in the end, she got what she wanted. But it was too much. Everything was taken from her. Her image, her privacy, her life.

“It meant something to you—your acting. Your success mattered, because you had to fight for it. It wasn’t given to you. You wanted it, and you took it.”

She nodded, bending over to stretch. Maggie was relieved that he didn’t comment on her health issues, instead focusing on the acting part of the conversation.

Lance grabbed one ankle and brought his leg up to his back, then the other. “I grew up in that life, but I didn’t love it. It always felt more like an obligation than a goal, which could have something to do with my lack of success. The only time I really enjoyed it or wanted it to work, was when I was on ‘Easier Said’ with you. Otherwise, I never cared that much.”

“But you want the fitness show, don’t you? That’s something you want, something you’ll work for. Something you believe in.” Lance’s quest made sense to her then, and she felt she understood him better.

He looked up at her, solemnness lining his features. “I do. I can do something amazing with it.” Lance took a deep breath and sat down. “Forget I asked you to be on it. Whatever way it would benefit the show wouldn’t outweigh the publicity you would get. You’d be in the spotlight again, and it would be wrong of me to ask you to do that.”

Maggie stared at his lowered head as he straightened his legs, and then went to the cold, hard ground beside Lance. She did it with the perceived intention of further stretching out, but she also wanted to be near Lance. “I want to know more about it.”

He glanced up, a streak of joy crossing his features with wariness to follow. “Really? Are you sure?”

She finished stretching her legs, got to her feet, and offered him a hand. “I didn’t say I wanted to be on the show, but I am curious.” Maggie dropped his hand as he stood.

Lance had them alternate jogging and walking. He said it was better to run only a few minutes a day than not at all, that the alternating speeds burned more fat than walking or jogging alone. Maggie liked that every few minutes she got a break from jogging, whatever the reason was for it. He’d taught her breathing techniques to make it more bearable. It was important to focus on the air as it went in and out of her lungs, to keep it even and steady. Mouth breathing was bad, unless on an exhale, but Maggie found it worked best for her to breathe in and out through her nose.

They set out at a light pace.

“Basically, the idea is to do exactly what I’ve done for you, and thousands of others. Change their diets and activity levels to best fit them, and see results.”

“Simple,” she said dryly.

Lance glanced at her. “I understand there will be hiccups, that no one is perfect. Look at you with your cookies and salad dressing.”

Maggie grimaced and Lance laughed.

“You can’t make them feel bad when that happens,” she said earnestly. Criticism was cruel, and worked to destroy a person’s self-worth. “You have to be understanding, and tell them it’s natural to stumble along the way, maybe tell them about how you used to live as a way to empathize. Like, if you ever ate three candy bars in a row, let them know that.”

“Have you?” he asked jokingly.

Maggie’s silence was confirmation.

Lance smiled. “I’m sure I’ve had more than that at one time.”

“They were regular-sized ones,” she admitted in a mumble.

“I once ate three double cheeseburgers and two large fries. If I remember correctly, I washed it down with a thirty-two ounce soda.”

They grinned at one another.

Maggie told him, “If you can connect with them, show them you’re human and that you’ve made your own mistakes, it’ll make them feel better.”

“Meaning we should bond over failures?”

“Maybe. Yes,” she decided. “Failures show others they’re not alone.”

He was quiet until it was time to walk. “I need someone with your kind of heart on the show, to remind me and the guests of that kind of stuff. I’m not saying you, but someone like you.”

“A lot of things are affected by what you think you can do regardless of whether you can or can’t. Even me with running—I have to talk myself into it. My body listens to what my brain tells it. When I tell myself I can do it, I do it.”

Heart pounding from the first of six runs, Maggie took a breath. “And the show can’t be turned into a competition. Because to the people that don’t do as well as the others, that would be enough to make them want to quit. Having multiple people on the show at a time will backfire.”

Excitement sparked to life inside her as she talked. “You could focus on one person every three weeks. It would be hard to work with only one person for a whole three months, like you are with me, but if you can get them started, that could work. And then, they could come back after three months of working on their own, just as a quick update, and every three months after that, as a motivator to keep them invested in their health.”

The second run began.

Lance seemed to mull over her words as they jogged.

“It’s going to be uncomfortable for them at first, and scary,” she said when they walked once more. “Positive reinforcement every day. Don’t forget.”

He nodded, his gaze trained forward.

“What are you thinking?”

Lance looked at her, his expression rigid with the force of keeping it blank. “Nothing. We just—we make a really good team. Always did.”

He was right, they did.

She started jogging before it was the designated time, Lance following close behind.

“So. Jeff Mitchell.”

When Lance didn’t elaborate, Maggie shot him a sidelong glance and picked up the pace. He smoothly caught up, not the least bit winded.

“You two dated a few years ago.”

“We started dating four years ago, yes,” she said, mouth tight.

“Interesting.”

“Why is that interesting?”

Even with his face forward, she caught the glower on it. “Because he wanted to date you during ‘Easier Said’, and we dated instead.”

“I would have dated him, if you’d stayed out of it.”

“How long did you two date?” he asked casually, a tick forming in his jaw.

Maggie turned her gaze to the street ahead. “Two years.”

“He proposed.”

“I said no,” she countered.

Lance stopped jogging, jerking around to face her. “You didn’t date him all those years ago because you knew he was wrong for you, and I was right. That’s why you dated me. And that’s why you fell in love with me. And that’s why we would still be together, if we both hadn’t been young and dumb, but especially if
I
hadn’t.”

Maggie inhaled sharply, eyes wide as she felt the blood drain from her face.

“I can’t believe you gave him another chance,” he continued. “What did you think was going to happen the second time around?”

She narrowed her eyes. “People don’t get second chances? Is that what you’re saying? I gave you one, didn’t I?”

Lance’s ferocity wavered, and then came back full force. “Not him, not when you knew there was nothing there.”

“Why do you care?” she snapped. “You got married. I wasn’t allowed?”

“Not to him!”

“I didn’t marry him,” Maggie screamed back, her hands curled in fists.

“You were trying to prove to yourself that things would have worked for you two if I hadn’t butted in, weren’t you?” Lance accused, his face twisted with anger and ghosts. “You probably would have married him, just to prove to yourself that what we had was a mistake, and that you never really loved me!”

Maggie blinked and took a step back, the anger melting away as she understood what was going on. “You’re talking about you, not me.”

Lance’s chest lifted and lowered with the force of his breathing, his expression raw and hurt. “There shouldn’t have been a chance for you to date him again, or for me to marry someone else. It should have been you. There should have been one love, one woman, one marriage. I tried to forget you, I swear I did. All I did was remember you more.”

His words broke her at the same time they healed. Tears fell from her eyes, and she saw the shine of them in his. Maggie sniffed and wiped a hand across her face, turning her eyes to the cracked pavement below her shoes. Lance lightly touched her hand and Maggie grabbed his when he went to move away.

“It’s weird that we were hurting each other even when we weren’t in each other’s lives,” Maggie said in a shaky voice.

“But we were, you know we were.”

Maggie nodded, her head lowered. She clutched Lance’s hand as if she could squeeze all of his pain away, and hers as well. “You got together with Olivia after I started dating Jeff.”

“You moved on. I figured I had to as well.”

A choked sound left her. “I never moved on,” she whispered. “I just . . . moved.”

Lance removed his hand from hers. He threaded his fingers through her hair, disrupting her ponytail, and pressed his closed mouth to the crown of her head. His lips moved against her hair when he spoke in a low rumble. “I know. I never really did either.”

She lightly rested her palms on his biceps, wanting to be closer to him, knowing that would make things more difficult for them. They naturally confessed their hearts to one another, but there was a cost to that honesty. A goodbye was imminent to their current involvement, a specified date that dictated they would go their own ways. It seemed crucial to remember that.

“There are people watching us,” he commented, lifting his mouth from her hair.

Maggie didn’t bother looking at their spectators. “I’m sure we’ll be in the papers again before too long.”

“Maybe we should act like we like each other this time—or you could, you know, act like you’re madly in lust with me. Follow my lead.”

Lance tightened his arms and moved his mouth to hers. Maggie stiffened, the thundering of her heartbeat saying she wanted him while her brain screamed that she couldn’t. She turned her head to the side, eyes down.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathless.

Lance pulled back. “Look at me.”

Maggie wordlessly shook her head.

“Maggie.”

She consented without any more protestation, turning her gaze to one of unbridled blue seas. Eyes riveted to hers, Lance brought his mouth to hers. She didn’t push him away, or pretend she didn’t want it. The feel of his lips on hers was like coming home. She knew him—knew the shape, texture, and taste of him. Maggie held her palms against his cool cheeks, tears stinging her eyes at the emotion that hit her like an avalanche against doubts and reservations. He was the only man she’d ever wanted to kiss, just him, always him.

He moved his mouth to her temple, his lips warm against her skin, and held her against him in a way that revered. Maggie felt his heart thrum against her, steady but fast. She let her eyes close to better feel him, to forget to think. Lance pressed a final kiss to her forehead, slowly moving away.

There was strain on his face, a hint of it in the pinched corners of his mouth, a blanket of discord dulling his pretty blue eyes. Maggie watched the pulse jump at the base of his throat, saw the way his chest lifted and lowered, his hands clenched in fists. What had that kiss taken from him? And what had it given him?

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Was the kiss too much?”

“It . . . yes, it was.” Maggie’s eyebrows furrowed and she stopped to peer into the dark waters of the river, hugging herself. “But . . . it was also perfect, which is why it was too much.”

In a bemused voice, she said, “I never realized.”

“Realized what?”

She turned her head to look at him. “That kiss hurt you, didn’t it?”

His smile was tinged with cynicism, but it didn’t touch his eyes. “Shallow me hurt by a little thing like a kiss?”

Maggie didn’t say anything.

Lance rubbed his face, shoulders beaten down in a way that broke her heart. When he looked at her, his emotions were clearly exposed for her to accept, or deny. He opened up to her with a look so raw it had her doubting everything she’d thought she’d known about Lance Denton.

“Yeah. It hurt. It hurt a lot.”

Maggie stared at the man she knew in a way she couldn’t know the boy. Her heart was full with pain and longing and hope. And sadness, always the sadness. He watched her, allowing her perusal. She didn’t know what she searched to find, and his once again masked face kept her from seeing anything.