She sprinted offstage, and suddenly time was not just running at full speed again; it had accelerated, everything rushing too brightly and loudly by as she crashed past the techs at the edge of the stage door and kept going straight through the studio and out into the blinding, bright afternoon light.
By the time her better senses returned to her, she found herself in a rarely used prop warehouse. In the back, among musty costumes and water-damaged foam and plywood set fixtures, she curled up, her head on her knees, and let the tears she'd been fighting off overwhelm her at last. She sobbed into the pretty chiffon skirt made to compliment her beautiful shoes. She'd lost one of them during her run. She was honestly surprised she'd been able to run in them at all. Normally, she could barely walk in them. Adrenaline was a hell of a thing. The bottom of her bare foot was raw from running across the sunbaked asphalt of the studio lot. The other was bleeding from where one of the shoe's architectural swoops had stabbed into it. She had also twisted her ankle at some point. There were windows high on the warehouse walls that let in a diffused, dusty light. The concrete floor was cold, and her costume did little to insulate her from it. Everything smelled of mold and mothballs.
It was easier to focus on these little, inconsequential details than the situation she was in. Right now, her plans began and ended with hiding in this warehouse. Eventually, she'd have to figure out something else. She'd have to go home, pick up her daughter from school, talk to her mother. Sooner or later she would almost certainly have to face Altair, try to explain what had happened. But the thought was so paralyzingly terrifying that her mind blocked it immediately to contemplate the dust floating in the dim light of the windows.
Most of all, she was ashamed of herself. She'd found someone so kind, so strong and confident, so gentle and thoughtful that she could hardly believe her luck. And he was interested in her! And he was good with Chloe! She couldn't have asked for more. But instead of doing everything in her power to hold on to him, she'd lied and ruined things. Sure, Craig had accelerated the disaster, but it had already been on its way. This was her fault.
She heard a scuff on the concrete behind her and looked up in surprise. She hadn't even noticed the warehouse door opening. Altair was standing behind her, holding her lost shoe in one hand, a frown on his face. Heather was ashamed that her first instinct was to bolt again. Instead, she looked up at him, frozen, waiting to see how he would react. Slowly, he sat down on the floor next to her and leaned against the foam dinosaur she'd been hiding behind.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, catching her entirely by surprise. She stared at him in blank confusion. Why was he apologizing?
"I shouldn't have sprung that on you," he said, looking down at the shoe in his hands. "This whole thing was already unexpected, and then I made it worse by trying to rush you. I should have known you weren't ready for this yet."
"That's not it." Heather blurted it out, forgetting her fear in the guilt she felt at seeing him blame himself. "Not at all! This was perfect. This should have been perfect. I'm the one who messed everything up. I'm so sorry, Altair."
Her tears started again, and she sat back to press the heels of her palms to her eyes, trying to bring herself back under control.
"I want to be with you," she said, her voice an ugly croak from crying. "I'd say it in front of everyone if you asked me to."
"Then why did you run?" Altair asked, confused. He reached out to pull her hands away from her face, and then he dried her tears with slow, cautious touches, as though he thought she would pull away from him. "Heather, what happened?"
Heather took a deep breath, unsure where to start or how to explain.
"This show," she said, her voice shaking. "The producer is Craig, my ex."
"Did he do something?" Altair's gaze turned instantly fiery. "I swear, if he hurt you, I'll—"
"No, no, he didn't do anything," Heather said quickly. "Not directly. He's the one who called you. He set up this showing to embarrass you by trapping me."
"Trap you how?" Altair asked, his confusion growing. "Heather, what's going on?"
Heather took another deep breath and held it for a long moment as she gathered her courage.
"I've been lying to you," she said at last, hot tears running down her cheeks. "I've been lying, Altair."
She saw the change in his expression at once, the way he pulled away from her. She knew there was nothing he was more afraid of.
"It's Craig, isn't it?" he said, his mouth twisted in grim resignation. "You're still with him."
"No," Heather said at once. "God no. It isn't that."
"Then what is it?" Altair asked, clearly exasperated. "What lie could you have possibly told to make you act this way?"
"It's this," she said at last, waving her hand down at the dress she was wearing, the shoe still on her foot. "All of this. I'm not a model, Altair. I never was. The night we met was my first time onstage. I was only up there as a favor to a friend. I didn't tell you that first night because I thought it would be just one show. I wanted to feel beautiful for a night. After that, things just spiraled out of control. I didn't know how to bring it up, and you told me how much lying meant to you, and I was afraid of losing you for something so stupid. I'm so sorry, Altair. I never meant for it to go on this long."
Altair stared at her for a moment and then sat back with a sigh, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Is that all?" he asked. "There's nothing else?"
She shook her head. He clenched his jaw, and she could see him struggling to process everything.
"And Craig set this show up to reveal you?" he asked. "To humiliate us both?"
She nodded, and Altair rubbed his temples tiredly.
"On the one hand," he said, "it's so stupid. I can't believe you let yourself get so worked up about it. As though I would care that you weren't really a model. As though that was ever what drew me to you. Even if I'd met you at that party at random, I would have wanted you to wear my shoes."
Heather's heart fluttered with hope and love for him at his words. But then he continued.
"On the other hand," he said, a touch of anger and frustration in his voice, "if you would lie to me about something so foolish and inconsequential, what happens when it's something more serious? If you would lie to me about this, what's to stop you from lying about everything else?"
"It was a mistake, Altair," Heather said. "I would have never lied about it in the first place if I'd known about your feelings. I only hid it as long as I did because I knew how you would feel."
She reached for his hand, wanting him to understand.
"I love you, Altair," she said, her voice soft and shaking with emotion. "If you don't want to be with me anymore, I wouldn't blame you, but please know that at least is true. My feelings for you were never a lie."
He took her hand, squeezing it gently. Seconds seemed to last an eternity as she watched him deliberate. Finally, he turned to her with a soft, sad smile.
"You said it before," he said. "We knew we would have to face difficulties."
Heather nodded, bracing herself for the worst.
"We also promised that when it came, we would do our best to work through it together," Altair said. Heather's heart jolted back to life. He considered the shoe in his lap for a moment and then turned toward her, fitting it carefully onto her bare foot. "I'm not ready to give up on this, Heather. If you're still willing, I want to try to make this work."
"I do," Heather sobbed, hope and happiness filling her and overflowing in the form of hot tears. "I do, Altair!"
She threw herself forward into his arms, and he held her tightly, both of them shaken by what had happened and the decision they had made. The road going forward would not be an easy one, but it was one they were willing to walk together.
Heather leaned on Altair's shoulder as they limped out of the warehouse and back to the set, where a host of baffled producers and technicians were scrambling to figure out how to finish the show without their guests.
"Oh thank goodness!" one of the directors said, spotting the errant Sheikh and his model. "Get them back into makeup, quick!"
A few frantic moments later, they walked back onstage where a slightly confused-looking Tanya greeted them.
"We're back with Sheikh Altair after a rather strange interruption!" Tanya said to the camera and the studio audience. "Care to tell us what happened there?"
"Of course," Altair said calmly. "In fact, we have a great deal to tell you. But first, if I could ask a favor?"
"Anything," Tanya said at once.
"I'd appreciate it your producer, Craig, would come up here on the stage." Altair smiled benignly at Tanya's confused look. Heather squeezed his hand tightly.
"Well, sure thing," Tanya said, looking out toward the cameras where Craig was standing, looking uneasy. "Craig! Come up here and say hello real quick!"
With obvious reluctance, Craig climbed onto the stage and Tanya waved him into a spot between her and the guests.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Craig," Altair said ominously before turning back to Tanya. "It was Craig who set this interview up, as I understand it."
Tanya nodded in confirmation. "Why yes. He did suggest it."
"It may interest you to know," Altair said, "that Craig is my model's ex-boyfriend."
"Really!" Tanya's eyes sparkled with interest at the thought of the ratings this spectacularly strange episode was going to bring in. She looked at Craig, her eyebrows raised. Craig looked incredibly uncomfortable.
"We broke up a few months ago when he ran off with another woman," Heather said. "Then when he saw that first tabloid photo of me with the Sheikh, he decided he wanted me back and wouldn't take no for an answer. He set up this episode to try to humiliate me for refusing him."
"She's not a model!" Craig blurted out, trying to keep his own trap from closing around him. "She's just a cook! She's been lying to you, to everyone! She's just a gold digger!"
Heather flinched a little at the insult and felt Altair's hand tighten around hers, his gaze icy.
"I am aware that she is not a model," Altair said calmly. "It is precisely her lack of training or pretenses that make her so perfect for modeling my work. And her profession hardly matters to me on a personal level. I love her for her intelligence and creativity and kind, inquisitive nature, not what she does for a living."
Heather, overwhelmed by the directness of his words, felt heat rise to her face as Altair spoke. He smiled, seeing her hiding her face with her hands.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to overwhelm you again," he said gently.
"It's fine," Heather said, flustered. "It's just the first time you've said that, that you love me."
Altair looked briefly surprised.
"I guess it is," he said, his eyes lighting up. "I love you, Heather."
Heather, scarlet all the way to her ears, bent over nearly enough to hide her burning face in her lap.
"That's why she ran earlier," Altair said to Tanya. "She was ready to face Craig trying to humiliate her, but when she realized I also planned to make our relationship public today, it was too much."
Craig was still standing between them, looking incredibly uncomfortable.
"Well, Craig?" Tanya asked, turning her attention to him. "Do you have anything to say about these accusations?"
Craig sputtered, searching for an excuse.
"I was just trying to help you, man!" Craig fumbled, looking at Altair. "The woman is a snake. She made my life a nightmare. That's why I left her. I just wanted to make sure she didn't do the same thing to you!"
"I am perfectly capable of choosing my own romantic partners," Altair said coolly. "I don't require the assistance of strangers to tell me who is worth my time."
The audience cheered their support for Altair, and Craig's face grew steadily redder with anger. He cursed loudly and then turned on Heather.
"You need to stop wasting your time with this clown," he said. "He's just filling your head with a load of B.S., acting like you could ever be a model. Do you actually think you look good up there? He's letting you embarrass yourself to sell his ugly shoes!"
"I think you need to shut up before you dig this hole you're in any deeper," Heather said calmly. Craig would always say whatever he thought would hurt her the most. She had no intention of listening to him ever again.
"I'm sure your bosses won't be pleased to learn you were using this show to try to settle a personal vendetta," Altair added. "I'm sure their moods won't be improved by seeing you make an idiot of yourself on television."
Craig scoffed. "Nothing on this taping is ever going to see television."
"Actually," Tanya said, "we ran out of prerecording time while we were looking for Heather. We're broadcasting live right now, which you would know if you'd spent your time becoming competent at this job rather than sexually harassing interns and making excuses for why your problems are the fault of everyone but you."
Craig stared at the cameras, shocked briefly into silence.
"Well," Altair said calmly, "it looks as though you're no longer wanted here, Craig. And I know Heather and I want nothing to do with you. Perhaps it's time you took a hint."
Craig roared like a wounded lion and threw himself at Altair, his hands outstretched like he intended to strangle the other man. Altair, moving with a speed and fluidity Heather had not expected of him, caught Craig's wrist and dragged him off balance, pulling him forward into his raised knee, which buried itself in Craig's stomach, stunning him. His legs gave out in shock, but Altair caught him by the collar just long enough to fell him properly with a single, powerful right hook to the jaw. He released the man then, watching dispassionately as Craig slumped to the stage floor.
"Really," Altair said in a tone of disappointment, casually straightening his clothes. "I'm royalty. Did you think I wouldn't have some self-defense training?"
Craig, unconscious, didn't answer, but the crowd roared, thoroughly impressed. As Altair sat down again, Heather pulled him closer to kiss his cheek in gratitude. He smiled at her warmly.
"Would you like to continue the interview?" Tanya asked as security dragged Craig away. "I'd love to hear more about you, Heather. It seems like you both live very interesting lives."
Heather laughed. "I wouldn't say that. I'm just a caterer, after all."