Chapter Twenty-One
It took all of Micah’s strength not to glance back at the woman behind him as he and his mother followed Stu to discuss whatever was apparently too important to keep. And how he’d be able to concentrate on anything Stu said, he had no idea. His mind was all on Maddie.
When he’d first seen her in the foyer, he had to admit, he’d been startled. Maybe even a little irritated. Then he was turned on. How could he not be with her looking like that, all dolled up and sex on heels? Seriously turned on.
And then he felt relieved.
A blanket of serenity that he’d never felt at these sorts of public events fell over him just by knowing she was in the room. After seeing her, his smiles became easier, his laughs a little less fake. Yeah, she’d done that to him.
And when he’d introduced her to Lulu…
Why did his insides feel so warm and soft with their meeting? As though he’d just finished a glass of bourbon, but ten times better. Not at all nerve-racking as he’d expected, but pleasant.
More than pleasant. Perfect.
But leaving Maddie to talk to Stu? That wasn’t easy in the least. That was one of the reasons he had wanted her to stay home. It was too hard to be in the room with her, especially looking so fuckable in her short silver dress and high heels. He wanted to be with her, to never leave her side.
Never?
Maybe he was being dramatic.
Steel up, man. Stop acting so fucking pussy-whipped.
Stu led Lulu and Micah just beyond the theater doors but far enough away from the crowded foyer to speak in private. Micah abandoned his full cup of coffee in a trash can—he’d only ordered it to get himself near Maddie, anyway—and tried to ignore how he felt like a total asshole leaving her alone like that.
This was his job. This was his life. What else could he do?
Micah’s focus returned full force to his manager when Stu clapped a hand on his shoulder, excitement animating his features. “Listen, kid, sorry to bother you with business tonight, but I knew you’d want to hear this immediately. Santini saw that Aleck film you did and wants you for the lead in his next film. No read-through or anything. Just yours if you want it.”
The floor gave out underneath Micah. A Martin Santini film? He’d been dreading the next movie on his calendar—a sappy romantic comedy—but Santini? That was exactly the kind of thing he’d been working toward, where all the years of sacrifice and sweat and solitude had been meant to take him.
He didn’t know what to say—his words fell out jumbled. “Really? Wow! That’s…incredible.”
Lulu’s eyes gleamed with proud tears. “You know what that means, Micah? Santini is almost a guaranteed Oscar nom.”
“I know, Mom. I know.” He was speechless, breathless. He leaned back against the wall of the dark alcove, needing the support. “What’s the movie? I haven’t even seen a script.”
“Epic Western revenge film. I’ll have the script sent to you ASAP. Shit load of fighting sequences. He wants you in New Zealand the minute you finish the romance thing to start training.”
Something in Micah’s chest tightened. “New Zealand?” His romance was being shot in L.A. on a soundstage. And many of the other projects he was looking at were near home as well. Not that he minded going out of the country. New Zealand was just so far from…
He couldn’t think her name. She had nothing to do with this conversation.
“You know Santini,” Stu said. “He loves filming in New Zealand.”
“They have great studios there,” Lulu added, still beaming. “And cheaper than a lot of alternatives.”
Micah nodded, hoping the anxious feeling could be loosened with the motion. Maybe he wouldn’t be gone long. “What’s the production schedule like?”
“Three to four months prep and another four months filming.”
“Right.” Eight fucking months. It was a lifetime. His next project was scheduled to be over in two months. When he left for New Zealand, he’d have been with Maddie for less time than he’d be gone.
If they were staying together, anyway.
He couldn’t shake the cold chill that had settled over him since Stu had said the words New Zealand. He knew this was coming—it shouldn’t have hit him like a ton of bricks. It was just that he hadn’t expected to have to decide about where things were going with Maddie so soon. He didn’t think he’d have to make such a deliberate choice. Because taking the part could effectively end him and Maddie.
And hadn’t he known that would be the outcome all along?
No, they could work it out. If they talked about it, if they made a plan…
He couldn’t think about this right now, not with Stu waiting for an answer on a critical career decision. Not with his mother looking at him with expectant excitement in her eyes. “When do I have to decide?”
Lulu’s eyebrows shot up. “Why do you even have to think about it?”
Stu also looked surprised, but at least he tried to hide it. “He’ll want an answer soon. I can probably buy you a couple of weeks.”
“Micah?”
Micah ignored his mother. “Thanks, Stu, I’d appreciate that.”
“Micah, why do you have to think about it?” Lulu’s surprise had turned to confusion. He’d always been open with her about his plans and projects. She knew how much he admired Santini, how this film could change his entire life. Of course she wouldn’t understand.
And Micah couldn’t explain it. How could he? She’d left her marriage to pursue her career. How would she understand Micah’s hesitation over a woman he’d been seeing for a handful of weeks?
Stu seemed to sense the conversation Micah needed to have with Lulu was personal. “I’ll leave you to discuss this. Just let me know, kid.”
“Thanks again, Stu.”
Stu had barely stepped out of earshot before Lulu was questioning her son again. “Micah, why—”
“I just do.” He ran his hands through his hair, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to give his mother. “It’s a long time out of the country. And I was looking at that Soderbergh project.”
“Soderbergh is nothing compared to this offer. This is Oscar material, Micah.”
“Soderbergh could be Oscar.” Now he dragged his hand over his face. Maddie. That’s all he could think of. Maddie. How hard it was not to give that as his defense, his every excuse. Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.
Unable to keep her name off his lips, he said, “There’s also Maddie’s film. Her movie is brilliant. And I want to be involved in more than just acting.”
“That’s the great thing about working on investment projects. You give your money and you’re done. You don’t have to be present for it.”
Micah turned to study Lulu, searching for some clue as to how he could explain his conflict. “But I really want to be here to see it picked up. I’m invested in it.” It would help if he thought he could be honest with his mother. If he could have just told her how he felt about the woman in the other room, maybe she’d understand.
“Micah Drew Preston. Are you sleeping with her?” Or maybe she wouldn’t understand. “Is that what this is about?”
He cringed at his mother’s questions. “That’s not what this is about, Mom.” Yes, he was sleeping with Maddie, but that wasn’t what his New Zealand hesitation was about. Not entirely, anyway. What he had with Maddie was so much more. Wasn’t it?
“You were a mess after that Nikki woman. I can’t believe you’d get yourself involved in another situation like that.”
“Maddie is nothing like Nichelle.”
“I’m just so surprised, Micah. I know you’re considered a lady’s man, but I’ve never seen you make career decisions with your Peter.”
“Jesus Christ, Lulu. I am not making any career decisions tonight. I need some time to think about it, that’s all. And, frankly, I’m really uncomfortable talking about this with you.”
Lulu’s face bunched up and he feared she might cry. God, please don’t let her cry. “But you always talk to me about your film projects.”
Great, he’d officially hurt her feelings. “I didn’t mean my projects. I’m not comfortable talking to you about my sex life, Mom.” He put his hands on his mother’s slim shoulders. “Just give me some time to think about it.”
“Okay, okay. I just don’t want to see you throw away all the time and energy you’ve invested in your career. Not over some girl.”
The sympathy he’d felt disappeared at her flippant dismissal of Maddie. “We’re done talking about this.”
“Fine.” She rolled back her shoulders and patted the sides of her hair, composing herself. “Do you have my ticket? I need to use the restroom before the show starts.”
Micah dug in his pocket and found his mother’s ticket.
“I’ll meet you inside.”
He watched his mother follow the path Stu had taken and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What the fuck now? This wasn’t the time or place for the introspective thinking he needed to do, but he couldn’t help the conflicting thoughts of career and Maddie that mingled in his mind.
Maddie. She was probably waiting for him to reappear. He stepped out of the corridor and glanced to where he had stood with her before at the condiment table by the bar. She wasn’t there, but he sensed her near. He turned and found her pressed against the wall at the theater entrance. He met her eyes and knew she’d heard everything.
Quickly, he replayed the conversation in his mind, imagining how it sounded to her ears. Christ. Some of it probably sounded pretty damn shitty.
He searched her face. She was an open book, a book he didn’t want to read right now—her eyes sad, her posture broken.
He couldn’t talk to her, not now. He set his jaw, and straightened his lips into a firm line, giving nothing away. He left her like that, resumed his role as a personality at a high-profile fundraiser, shaking hands with rich people who had impressive names, and Botox’d foreheads and significant others on their arms.
The serenity Maddie Bauers had given him earlier was gone. In the highly crowded lobby, hundreds of people swarming to his side, he was alone.
Only a few minutes passed before the lights in the lobby flashed, indicating it was time for people to take their seats. Micah hung back until Maddie and the other crew members walked up the stairs to the upper level.
Heather sidled up beside him and slipped her arm in his. “Where’s Lulu?”
“Already inside.”
“Shall we find our box?”
“Sure,” he mumbled. They walked up the stairs to the second level where the box seats were accessed and gave their tickets to the ushers. The rest of the cast from the movie were already seated, and he and Heather sat in the back box seats.
When the lights dimmed he sank into his chair, relieved to have the spotlight off him. Finally, he let himself think. The whole time he’d been with Maddie, he hadn’t let himself imagine this far in his plans with her. He’d hoped he might get over her by now. Stupid, since he’d coveted her since the night he met her. And now he was more into her than ever.
So he could keep seeing her. And so what that he’d be in New Zealand? He could bring her with him. It would be just like Colorado. He might even be able to get her a job on set. He could make it part of his contract.
But he couldn’t just drag her around while he worked. She had her own films to make. Good films. Even if she didn’t yet believe it. And he wanted to be the one who helped her discover herself.
But he couldn’t turn down the Santini opportunity. It would be ridiculous to give up years of sweat, blood and tears for a woman he’d been with for less than three weeks. He’d been dreaming about an Oscar nom since he was sixteen. And even without the Oscar lure, Micah admired Santini more than most directors in the biz. Besides, it wasn’t only his dream—Lulu would be so proud.
That left trying to work out a relationship with Maddie over miles and between shoots. The thought of being away from her like that killed him, yet the alternative was not being with her at all, so it would have to do.
Except, it was the miles and time apart that destroyed all the couples he’d known in Hollywood. Jealousy crept in. The press took advantage. Too much distance, too many rumors, too impossible to manage. It always ended in heartache.
There had to be some way to sort it out. Some way to be able to choose Maddie and his career. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with a solution to bridge the two.
But with his eyes closed, he only saw Maddie.
And when he opened his eyes and saw Joss Beaumont onstage and clips from his movies playing on the projector behind him, all he thought about was how much he loved making good movies.
He had to get out of there.
Without telling anyone where he was going, he wandered out to the balcony lobby in search of a drink, but found the bar had been left unattended. He contemplated reaching over the counter and making his own drink—what would they do to him? He was Micah Preston, one of the stars of the evening. They should be falling at his feet to please him.
Those were bitter self-absorbed thoughts and he knew it.
Instead, he leaned against the counter and scanned the lobby.
Then he saw her. Maddie. She sat alone on a bench at the other end of the lobby, and even at that distance, he knew she was crying. Her body shuddered with each wave of sobs.
For half a second he wondered why she was so upset, wanted to run to her and fix it. Then he realized with certainty that it was him.
Fuck. It broke him to see her like that. What was it that had pushed her to this place? The idea of being separated from him? Or was she finally understanding the impossibility of their relationship?
Or had it been his mother’s callous behavior? Because that was what had hurt Micah the most.
If he had to make a guess, he’d say it was Lulu’s comments that had probably stung Maddie most as well. He’d seen how Maddie had wanted to connect with Lulu. Funny how he’d wanted that too.
He wanted to make it better, but he felt helpless. He didn’t have an answer to their situation, didn’t have words to take their pain away. Besides, if he went to her now, and she cried like that in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to hang on. He’d give everything up for her right on the spot. And that wasn’t the answer.
He had to reach out, though, had to tell her not to give up on them. He sent her a text. Counting the seconds til I have you in my arms.
It was several minutes before she dug in her purse, seemingly looking for a tissue, and opened her phone. He watched her read his message, a small smile crossing her lips, then she typed her reply.
You shouldn’t text in the theater. It’s rude.
Ah, sweet Maddie. Crying her eyes out in the lobby and she wasn’t letting on at all. He hated that he was glad. Wished she could be honest with him. Wished he wanted her to be honest with him. Wished he wanted to be honest with her.
He sent her a text that matched the tone of hers. Neither should you.
I’m not in the theater.
Neither am I. He hoped she’d look for him now.
She did.
She stood and crossed to the railing to look down on the lobby below her. Then she peered across the lobby on their level and their eyes met. His heart skipped a beat. She was so beautiful. Even tear stained and mascara streaked she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.
He took a deep breath and walked to her.
“Congratulations on the Santini film,” she said as he neared her.
He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t accepted yet.”
“You will.”
This was good. She’d opened the door for him to agree. He could just say it and that would be that. They could skip the more serious aspects of his conversation with Stu and his mother. He could take the out she was giving him so freely. It would be so easy…
She leaned on the railing next to him, close enough for him to touch her, and he did, reaching a finger under her eye to wipe at her mussed makeup. “What if I don’t want it?”
He met her eyes, tumbling into them as he always did when she gazed at him so trusting and soul-piercing. “You do.”
Ah, she knew he wanted that role. Of course she knew. She saw him. Always. “I do.”
Her breath hitched as he put a hand around her waist and swiftly pulled her to him. “I want you too,” he whispered, his nose circling hers.
“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.
He cupped her face and kissed her lips, sweetly and softly. She tasted of tears and makeup and something else—sorrow or heartache, maybe. He didn’t want to taste that on her mouth, wanted to take her away from all his bullshit. Wanted to escape with her. “Let’s get out of here?”
“You can’t abandon your mother, silly.” She smoothed his black silk tie, and he wished she was removing it instead.
“Then let’s find some place more private.”
She glanced around, and he followed her gaze. There was an usher behind them and a woman leaving the restroom.
“There’s too many eyes here.”
Yes, too many eyes. Eyes that could make their moment a scandal in a minute. They shouldn’t even be holding each other like this in public, not if he wanted to protect her from that. Still he couldn’t let her go.
After they’d held each other for much too long, she pulled away. “You should get back. You’ll be missed.”
In her words, he felt the chains that bound him, the constant monitor of the public that he wore like shackles. “Yes.”
She stepped to leave him, but her hand lingered in his, and he pulled her back to him, not wanting to let go. Ever. “Maddie, I—”
She searched his face and he almost finished his sentence, told her how he felt about her. But saying those words, there would be no going back from that. That would be his decision and he just…couldn’t.
“Kiss me again,” he said instead.
She delivered a light kiss. But he seized her lips with his own, his tongue possessing her with demanding need, claiming not only her mouth but her soul. With his kiss, he marked her as his, reserved her for a future that he wasn’t able to give her. Yet.
When he could bear to break free, he leaned his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling in her rhythm. “Maddie, I’m glad you’re here.”
Lame. He had given her nothing tangible, nothing that told her how he felt, no hint that he was confused about her—that he wanted what they had to become something more. The only words he had for her were, “I’m glad you’re here.”
Totally lame.
He vowed he’d give her a clue. And while he sat in his box seat, pretending to watch the rest of Beaumont’s interview, he made his plans.