Chapter Two
Emrys Sébire normally enjoyed any time he spent away from the courtly life of Cabeau. Unfortunately, PR events tended to put him in a foul mood. They were hollow. There was little opportunity to really speak one’s mind, especially for films like the Roughhousing series. They did keep his funds moving while he waited for better projects to come along—a necessary evil, in light of his father’s unyielding determination to withhold Emrys’s trust fund until he was middle-aged. He would have been happier, however, if not quite so many of his scenes had ended up on the cutting room floor. The result was a bit narratively messy, but they did find time for that extra car chase.
With a thank you to a rather skinny waitress, Emrys took a glass of champagne and headed outside. The lounge that the producers had secured for the party was quite upscale for what was essentially a junk food action movie sequel. The inside bar was lit along its base, and chandeliers revolved slowly, casting gentle, multicolored lights on the patrons. Even from outside, the lights made everything seem to glow along with the New York skyline. Each seat was less of a chair and more of an ergonomically designed abstract shape, and there was a long, narrow, rectangular pool by which several people sat, drinks in hand.
Everyone else seemed to be having a fine enough evening. Emrys recognized that part of his mood had to do with being a bit put out that the line for autographs hadn’t been very long tonight, but the audience for this series tended to skew to a certain breed of man, and that cut into his usual fan base deeply. He’d spent the first half of the evening chatting with costars and mingling with people in the industry who tended to perennially show up to these events. It was smaller than many he’d been to, but that fact in itself was a blessing.
“You’re lurking, Emrys,” Nina said from behind him.
Emrys turned to her with a frown. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Nina shrugged, pushing back her thick, black curls. “Just tryin’ to be social. There’s so much buzz around these films, so many big name stars attached.”
“What the American public consumes is inexplicable.”
“Don’t be a snob. It’s all about entertainment. Something to get the blood pumping.” Nina sipped her cocktail and sighed. “Be grateful to have a part at all. That’s what it’s about. Keep working, keep in the public eye. It’s worked for much lesser actors than yourself.”
Emrys rolled his eyes. He had no desire to be an actor who succeeded due to sheer oversaturation in the media or scandal. He considered himself good at what he did, even if many of his opportunities so far had been big blockbusters with little plot to speak of. Overall, he thought his body of work spoke well of his integrities as an actor, as well as the skill he’d developed over the years. He followed her back inside and returned to his table, fulfilling his duty to promote the movie.
He did his part as folks came by his table to chat about their projects. Nina sent a few directors over to speak with him. The evening encompassed more business about other things than it did talking up the movie itself, so the time passed bearably until the doors opened and he caught sight of a head of strawberry blonde hair.
Since he’d left Charles de Gaulle five years ago, Emrys had spotted many redheads and felt his heart skip, then fall, every time. He knew how unlikely it would be for him to run into that pretty, delicate thing he’d toyed with in Paris, only to let her go in the cruelest fashion. That he’d had his reasons didn’t ease his guilt much. This time, though, as the woman turned, Emrys began to think that she bore more than a passing resemblance to Caitlyn.
Her hair was much shorter than the long, sweet braids Caitlyn had usually worn back during that summer he’d met her during a day trip to Nice. Now her hair came just above her shoulders and was styled neatly around her face, with a bit of a curl worked into the front. The large frames of her glasses had been replaced with small, cute rectangles. She was slimmer than she had been as a college girl, too, but she still had those luscious, wide hips that he’d loved to run his hands over. She was like the statue of a Greek goddess. He remembered squeezing her thick thighs as he climbed into her dorm room bed to make her squeal with delight. When she turned to dance by the table with her girlfriends, her flared skirt shifted and swung around her legs. He was maybe twenty feet away, but he could have sworn when she covered her mouth, he could heart that little giggle-snort of hers.
He felt a chill shoot up his spine. It was her. His Caitlyn.
Emrys’s attentions were now entirely spoken for. Over the next hour, he observed her every move, how she curled up onto one of the abstract chairs and removed one shining heel to massage the arch of her foot, how she stretched her arms over her head, as though some kink in her back pained her. She and her friends were simply out for a good time, clearly. They danced with one another, rather than seeking out other partners. One of them, a mocha-skinned woman shorter than Caitlyn, ventured over to speak to Nina, but for the most part, they weren’t as dedicated to stargazing as some of the party-goers clearly were.
None of these women would be flocking to his table for an autograph. As Caitlyn rose, Emrys unconsciously set his foot to the ground in anticipation. More than anything, he wanted to go to her, to touch her smooth cheek, to be the one to make her smile and laugh that awkward, lovely laugh of hers. Somehow, it seemed important that she reserve that laugh for him, in spite of everything. While many would have accused him of narcissism, he wasn’t a complete fool. Though it was promising that she’d come to one of his premieres, Caitlyn might not be particularly pleased to have him simply approach her table after all these years.
It would be better to have her come to him. If he could make sure that she saw him and that she was given reason to speak to him and the choice to do so, the conversation might go much more smoothly. He would certainly be more at his ease waiting for her approach.
With that thought, Emrys raised his hand to flag down the waitress.
***
“Pardon me, ladies,” a waitress said cheerfully. She held a shining pink bottle with a black top and an ace of spades emblazoned on the front. “The gentleman over there has bought a bottle of champagne for you: an Armand de Brignac. I think you’ll enjoy the notes of strawberry and black currant.”
“Oooh.” Jaina leaned over to see the gentleman that the waitress had indicated. “Oh my god! Baby, look!”
She jerked Melinda away from looking at the bottle and pointed. Caitlyn looked up as well, then shot up straight, and recoiled into her seat.
“That’s freakin’ Emrys Sébire!” Melinda laughed. “Aw, Caitlyn! It’s your boyfriend!”
“Oh, shut up.” Caitlyn crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Of all the people in the world who could possibly have sent them a bottle of wine, why did it have to be him?
Logically, it was his movie. Of course there had been a stray chance that he might have been at the party, but his part in the movie hadn’t even been all that substantial. When they’d been watching it, Caitlyn had even forgotten about him a few times. It was rollicking, brainless fun of exactly the kind Caitlyn needed whenever she was reminded of Emrys himself. What a pity he had to show up and ruin it.
While Caitlyn had been pulling a sour face at Emrys, who had simply given a smug little wave in return, Melinda and Jaina had already popped open the bottle and begun to pour out the fizzy concoction. Jaina lifted a flute to Caitlyn’s nose and waved it underneath. It smelled of strawberries, and Caitlyn’s frown began to melt.
Had Emrys remembered her fondness for strawberries? Was he teasing her, as he had years ago, about the color of her hair? Self-consciously, Caitlyn tucked a strand behind her ear.
“Don’t be a brat!” Melinda poured more into Jaina’s glass. “The man wants to spoil us. Let ‘im.”
Jaina leaned over, and Melinda lifted the flute to her lips.
Caitlyn bit her lip. If she tasted this champagne, would it be like accepting something from him? He’d broken her heart. He’d broken her. She had once been the kind of girl who believed in love. As a girl, she’d known that a happy ending would come to her, and as a young woman, when she’d met Emrys, she’d believed she had found him.
Instead he’d left her. He’d thrown her away as if what they’d had was nothing, and now what? He expected her to cheerfully down his expensive champagne? Was she supposed to come thank him? Fine.
Caitlyn stood and picked up her glass. She stared across the crowd at Emrys, who was perched at his table, looking ever so much like the privileged prince of Hollywood, as well as a minor European kingdom. She might have imagined it, but he seemed to tilt his head curiously. Once she was certain she had his eye, she drank the wine, slowly, letting the alcohol and the bubbles slide down her gullet and fuel the fire inside her. It was sweet and did have a pleasant aftertaste, but she did not pour another.
Instead, Caitlyn set the flute on the table. Imagining that the wine had made her hair burn brighter, she made her way over to Emrys’s table in long, determined strides and did not break his gaze. She would make him understand how deeply he’d cut her.
As she approached, his brows rose, and her heart thudded powerfully in her chest. She stopped in front of his table, looked into those dizzying blue eyes. She was unable to look away now. It was as though, having let herself step into his sphere once again, she was caught by his charming aura and wouldn’t ever be able to free herself willingly.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Emrys smiled and touched the tips of his index and middle finger to his temple. “My God. You have grown so beautiful over the years.”
“Th-thank you,” Caitlyn said meekly. She shook her head after a second. “For the champagne.”
“Did you enjoy it? I couldn’t tell from your expression.” He leaned forward to touch her hair. His fingers slid through it, and his eyes seemed to grow unfocused as he gazed at it.
Caitlyn stared back at him, speechless, soaking in his proximity. Finally, he was here, right in front of her, handsomer than ever. She wanted to both scream at him and nuzzle her face into his broad chest.
“Well?” Emrys looked up at her expectantly. He smiled again, looking so pleased with himself that suddenly her jaw tensed, and she wanted to smack him.
“Sorry,” she said dryly. “I was just so amazed that you could afford a bottle of wine like that, when the boy I knew couldn’t even pay for his own crepe off the street.”
Emrys reared back, clearly offended. “I have my own income now.”
“I would have thought you’d have plenty of money, even then, but I can’t really speak to the economic welfare of Cabeau,” Caitlyn replied waspishly.
Emrys clicked his tongue. “I suppose in that vein I did owe you a bottle or two.”
“I honestly have no idea what that bottle cost, but you’ve definitely paid me back for the pastries and coffee.” Caitlyn put her hand on her hip. “Not so much for disappearing off the face of the planet without so much as an ‘it’s not you, it’s me.’”
Emrys’s cheeks began to burn red. “Now, listen—”
“You’re a coward, Emrys,” Caitlyn said plaintively as her face crumbled. “I thought you were my prince charming. Imagine my disappointment to find out that you were anything but.”
Caitlyn turned from him to rejoin her friends, but he caught her wrist swiftly.
“Let me go.”
“I never meant to disappoint you. I never meant any hurt to come to you.” His grip tightened.
“Emrys…”
“There were matters beyond my control. Understand this, and don’t leave me.”
“If you don’t mean to hurt me, let go of my wrist.”
Emrys dropped it immediately and then looked down as though surprised that his hand had held her fast. Caitlyn fought the urge to put distance between them, but how could she now? She had to know.
“What ‘matters’? What made it so impossible for you to answer a single call? An email?” Caitlyn shook her head and held her arms as she shrank back. “Emrys, you took my heart in your hand and crushed it.”
Emrys slowly dragged his tongue over his lower lip. “But you came over here to talk to me.”
“To thank you for the champagne,” she protested.
“Still. You were willing to come this far. Would it hurt you to spend a few more minutes of your time?” He stepped closer to her once more and this time took her hand gently. “To get reacquainted with an old friend?”
Caitlyn hesitated. She was torn between her dignity and his answers. And every moment she spent near him, her dignity lost a little more ground.
Emrys lifted his hand for the waitress and made a gesture. A moment later, she returned with another of the pink bottles.
“One drink, Cait. Don’t do it for me. Do it for that sweet, pigtailed girl by the Seine.” His voice had grown a bit husky. He was begging her. Even back then, he’d rarely begged. Emrys ordered. Now, he was simply gesturing to the free chair at his table.
“Well, she has been waiting a long time.” Caitlyn stepped past him, seated herself, and lifted her glass.