The Redhead Revealed (Redhead #2)(43)
Author: Alice Clayton

Now I focused all my energy on the show and on Mabel, the aging beauty queen.

Ah, Mabel.

She became the conduit through which my frustration flowed, and it all came out on stage. I was powerful. I was broken.

I walked at nighttime, late. After rehearsal, I roamed the streets of Manhattan, losing myself in the city. New York was beautiful, and totally unlike any other city I’d lived in. It seemed to be enormous and untouchable, a giant. But it was really lovely and warm when you broke it down neighborhood by neighborhood, street by street. Because there were so many people there, I relished the anonymity. Everyone was bundled into coats and hats, and no one knew anyone. You could be anyone or no one in this town. I walked and walked, and I tried to beat back the voices in my head.

Jack’s movie opened. I’d tried to avoid all things Time since the night of the premiere, but it was nearly impossible to do. I almost threw my laptop out the window when I saw his face on my Yahoo! homepage. I broke into tears when I walked past the posters on every street corner, or saw the magazines on every newsstand.

Women everywhere wanted him. I’d had him. Had been loved by him. And I pushed him away like it was my job. What the hell was wrong with me? I picked up the phone to call him a dozen times, but I just couldn’t.

Holly was oddly silent on the entire matter, choosing to keep our conversations light and airy, not focusing on anything too intense. We had only one discussion about Jack. She’d been telling me a story about another of her assistant’s celebrity freakouts. Sara tried so hard to play it cool, but it became too much for her and she cried, laughed, and damn near pissed herself when Lane came into the offices.

I laughed so hard at the image I had tears in my eyes. “Oh, man, you know Lane is riding high on his Time fame!”

I was just about to ask why he’d been at Holly’s offices when she said quietly, “Aren’t you going to ask me how he’s doing?”

I stopped laughing almost instantly, but the tears remained. She didn’t mean Lane.

“How is he?” I whispered.

“Miserable,” she said.

I was quiet, taking it in.

“Grace, you know I love you, and I will support every decision you make. But I think, well…”

“Well, what?”

“I think you might have been wrong on this one.”

I sighed. Heavily. “I know you love me, but I just need this right now, okay? I know you don’t understand why I did what I did—hell, I barely do. But right now, I just need some time. Please, let’s not talk about this again until some more time has passed.”

She waited a moment, then agreed. We talked a few more minutes, then she told me she loved me, and we said goodbye.

This whirlwind romance with Jack had brought up every insecurity I’d ever had. Sure, we were great when it was just us, but when you put it in the context of real life? It had to end. I didn’t know what I wanted in my romantic life, but it no longer made sense for me to be playing house with a twenty-four year old. No matter how much I loved him.

And Michael? He was my rock.

We spent even more time together. A few nights, he walked me home from rehearsal, and we talked as we walked. We talked about anything and everything—avoiding all things Hamilton, but anything else was fair game. We let some feelings out that had been carefully walled up for weeks, years even. Did it make me forget about Jack? No, but it did help. Spending time with Michael and remembering how good and simple things once had been was incredibly helpful. It eased some of my guilt over the terrible way I’d ended things with Jack.

One night, when rehearsal had ended early for a change, I heard Michael call after me as I headed out the door.

“Hey, Grace!”

“Hey, what?” I smiled as I turned around.

“Great rehearsal today. I didn’t think you could get any better, but, man, lately you’re really on fire!” His whole face lit up. He stood next to me in the doorway, hair wild. His warm brown eyes gazed into mine.

Those damn eyes. I’d thought about them for years.

“Yes, well, breakups are great for creativity, aren’t they?” I chuckled ruefully.

He stopped smiling instantly. “Oh shit, Grace. I’m sorry. I know this is tough right now. If there’s something I can do…” He trailed off.

“No, it’s okay. You just gotta go through it, right? I’ll see you tomorrow.” I patted him on the arm and turned to walk out.

“Grace?”

“Now this is getting ridiculous.” I laughed, looking over my shoulder.

“What are you doing tonight?”

“I was going to take a walk, then grab some dinner on the way home. Why? What’s up?”

“Well, I was thinking we could grab dinner and maybe a movie?”

Ugh. No movies. Time posters everywhere. You can’t handle that.

“Ugh, no movies,” I said, shaking my head vigorously and pointing at the poster on the bus stop across the street.

“Oh, right! Of course. That was rude. I just thought…I don’t know…” His head tilted down toward the ground.

On impulse, I reached out and raised his chin. “How about just dinner?” I asked.

I surprised myself.

I definitely surprised him.

We’d eaten dinner together countless times since I’d moved to New York. This was different. We both knew what I was asking.

My fingers felt the scruff of his whiskers. He hadn’t shaved today. His hand tentatively reached up and took mine, raising his eyebrows to see if this was okay. It was the first time we’d physically acknowledged each other this way since being thrown back together. Up until now it had been playful hugs and punching.

“Dinner sounds great,” he said, grinning.

My heart beat a mile a minute. “Let’s go,” I said. I opened the door and led him out into the street. Into the city.

As we walked, we kept our hands clasped. At one point, he noticed me glancing down at our entwined fingers.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s okay.” I nodded, shivering a little in the night air. I had on my leather coat, but it was November on the East Coast, and it was cold.

He let go of my hand and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me closer. He looked at me, questioning again, and I nodded once more, although The Drawer was rattling a little.

Had enough time had passed since the end with Jack?

It’s been weeks.

It was time to explore these feelings I was having. It was a little strange being so close to another man, but this was Michael, after all. Yet still my thoughts strayed to Jack. I wondered what he was doing tonight. I wondered if he’d ever understand what I was doing.