by Ally Decker
As the night progressed, people moved around, and with the men off to the side for another one of their ridiculous games, she found herself sitting between Sylvia and Sharon, swapping stories about their common love—New York. The rest of the women went to take a walk and go back with food, so for now the three of them were the only ones around.
They talked about their first jobs and trying to make it in the city that can chew you up and spit you out. Tara and Sharon had grown up in Brooklyn, so they had an advantage of saving on rent until way into their twenties, but they both admitted to wanting to move out earlier and not being able to. Still, it beat Sylvia's horror stories about her old apartments before her brother offered her a stable, full-time position and she could afford to split the rent with her friend on a pretty nice place.
"I was ashamed at first that my brother gave me a job, but I'm not anymore," she told them with a shrug. "You do what you gotta do and I'd do the same for him."
"Sure," Sharon nodded. "You're family. My parents let me stay for as long as I wanted to and never complained. Without them, I would never have gone for my Master's, even with a full ride."
"My parents supported me too, when everyone else in the family was telling me to look for a stable job and give up theater." Tara shook her head. "I'd never do it without them."
"And you're doing so good," Sylvia told her with a grin, leaning into her side. She was probably drunk. "Seriously, you're going nowhere but up, just you see."
"Aww, thanks, but don't tempt fate." Tara wasn't overly superstitious, but she practically lived and breathed theater. There were rules. "You know it's more likely to be up and down, that's the life."
"Is it bad that I miss that city?" Sharon asked, glancing at her glass before looking up at them. "Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade my life for anything, but sometimes I miss the push and pull."
"That's New York for you," Sylvia said with a nod. "I miss it, too."
Tara knew it was the kind of harmless nostalgia that glossed over everything that had been really hard, but she didn't really mind. She understood. If she ever left the city, she would be exactly the same, she was sure.
Not that she was planning to go anywhere.
"Weren't you going to settle in New York between shoots?" she asked Sylvia instead.
"We were." Sylvia grimaced. "We are. But with Greg's schedule, 'settling' is an overstatement. We have a month off max, before he's shooting something again, and then it's a week here and two weeks there."
"I hear you," Sharon said, clinking her glass against Sylvia's. "And I don't travel with Danny most of the time, so it's even worse."
"Oh, yeah, I'm glad I can work whenever." Sylvia nodded. "I'm impressed you're making it work so well."
Sharon shrugged. "We do what we gotta do. I started off just like you—left New York to follow him. First, it was to Vancouver, he was shooting a series back then. I was working in coffee shops and writing in between," she said, looking at Tara. Maybe Sylvia knew this part already or maybe Sharon wanted to tell her something. "Then the show got canceled and we moved to LA. I traveled with him on locations whenever I could, but once I got a job at my newspaper, I couldn't drop everything and leave again." She took another sip of wine, finishing of her glass, and reached for a bottle to top all of their glasses. "It's not forever, though. We have a deal and a timeline. Right now, he's riding the wave, but it's not going to be forever."
"Greg's the same," Sylvia said. "They probably have similar contracts, too. I'm not planning on our lives to always be like this but thankfully, neither is he. And when he slows down, we're back in New York."
Tara listened to their stories and busied herself with drinking. Both women more or less confirmed her worries that even if Jeremy did want to build something stable with her, he had no room to do so. And she wasn't throwing away her career to follow him around. No way. Not now.
"Hey, we didn't want to scare you off," Sylvia told her, nudging her with her knee. "I know I'm complaining, but I don't regret getting with Greg. I never did."
"I'm not regretting Danny either." Sharon nodded. "Just because it's not perfect doesn't mean it's bad."
"You will make it work," Sylvia added with a smile that was probably meant to be encouraging, but made Tara's stomach roll instead.
She swallowed the rest of her wine. "It's fine. Don't worry about me, it's…" It's not like that. We're not like that. "It's fine."
Thankfully, she was saved by Michiko, Alicia, Jess, and Sonia coming back with the food and more wine, and distracting Sylvia and Sharon from her hopeless love life.
She reached for the bottle and swallowed another gulp of wine, needing a distraction as well.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
When Jeremy came back to the circle, Tara was drunk and half-asleep, but so were half the women, so he didn't think anything of it. He just hosted her into his arms and half-led, half-carried her to their cabin as she hummed a song he had a vague recollection of but couldn't place.
Once he got her to bed, she sat on the edge and looked down at her shoes with a frown.
He crouched in front of her, suddenly worried. "What is it? Are you going to be sick?"
"No." She shook her head before slowly looking up at him. "You'll be fine, you know?"
Jeremy moved to take of her shoes and put them aside. "Will I?"
"Yes. You are…you. And you don't even care, anyway, so it doesn't matter."
"What doesn't matter?"
"The distance." She sighed and looked down again. "It doesn't matter, since we're not like that."
He frowned as his stomach tightened. Shit. "Not like what?" he asked quietly.
"Together." She shook her head and her hair flew all around her face, but for once, he barely noticed over the sharp shot of pain in his chest. "You don't want that."
"I do want that," he protested. He knew he should wait until she was sober. It wasn't a conversation to be had while drunk. But he couldn't stand the idea that she thought he didn't want her. "I do want you, and I want us, together. I was just… I was planning on talking to you about it, but I kept putting it off." He caught one of her hands in his and brought it to his lips to kiss her knuckles. "I was scared you don't want that."
She snorted, but also rubbed her thumb over his chin. "It's better not to want what you can't have," she told him, narrowing her eyes. "But I'm bad at it, because I want. I want to, but it can't work. Won't work… No, we both work that's why it won't." She frowned and blinked slowly. "I'm drunk."
"Yeah, I know." He brushed her hair off of her face and wished he could kiss her. "Let's get you to bed and we will talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
Tara nodded. "Okay. The week's almost over anyway, so we had to. I waited, too, so we could… So it could be nice."
Perfect. They had both waited to have the conversation about them, but apparently had had different ideas about what it should entail.
"It was nice. It was great, I loved every minute of it." Aside from right now, he added in his head.
He helped her stand so she could go to the bathroom, since she insisted she needed to wash her makeup off, and the topic seemed to be closed for the time-being.
It wasn't until she was lying in bed and he was putting covers over her, that she sighed and opened her eyes to look at him.
"I wish we could've had that," she muttered quietly, slurring her words a little, and then she was out like a light.
Jeremy stood there, staring down on her and calling himself every name in the book.
"I hope we still can," he whispered and put a hand on her covered shoulder for a second before pulling back and walking out to grab some fresh air.
Fuck, he had screwed up so badly.
And he had only himself to blame for it. He could have avoided it, he could have fixed it right up, cleared things early on, but no. No, he had to drag things out, he had to chicken out of doing the right fucking thing…
It seemed as if he kept repeating the same mista
kes.
He sat down on the steps of the cabin and stared at the ground in front of him, covered in darkness. It had been a nice evening, starting with a dinner in great company and followed by a fun party. He'd loved having Tara pressed against him and leaning into his hand when he'd been playing with her hair. He'd loved to glance over and watch her with Sylvia and Sharon later on, when he'd been dared into a sloppy game nobody could even remember rules to after a while but everyone was having a good time with it anyway.
And now he was sitting outside the cabin, thinking about how much of an asshole he'd been. To hear Tara just now, convinced he didn't care about her as anything other than a long-distance booty call, was just…
It was exactly what she has the right to think, since you've never said otherwise, the less-than-helpful voice at the back of his head cut in.
Neither of them said anything and now they were here, on a crossroads. Either they were going to get it right and figure out how to make it work, or they were going to end this over a stupid lack of communication on the top of other issues they had to face.
At least he knew she wanted to make it work, though. Despite everything else, Jeremy's shoulders had sagged in relief when she'd said that she wanted it. He realized how scared he'd been she wouldn't want anything else. It was that fear, most of all, that had kept him from speaking up sooner, but he hadn't understood just how much it weighted on him. And it backfired spectacularly on him now, too. It was his fear that had actually gotten him in this current mess and he hated it.
He just hoped he could make it right tomorrow.
***
He lay awake, unable to fall asleep. At first he was tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep, and then he woke up every two hours or so from a repeated dream about looking for Tara in his LA home and not being able to find her. His subconscious was anything but subtle, apparently.
He woke up for good at half past seven and didn't go back to sleep, worried that she would wake up before him and freak out—or worse. He tried distracting himself with his phone, but it didn't work for long unless he wanted to go down the depressing rabbit hole of news, which he didn't. He was half-way down his own depressing rabbit hole thinking about his stupidity and he didn't need to pile up other things on top of that. He tried reading a book on his tablet, but closed the file before he even worked his way through one chapter, since he couldn't concentrate on anything. Finally, his anxious energy dragged him out of bed and he opened the door leading to the back porch. He sat down in the entrance in a small patch of sunlight, closed his eyes, and tried to stop himself from overthinking, but it didn't help. Sitting didn't help him, either, since he needed to move.
He had barely stood up when he heard a noise behind him. He turned just in time to see her lift her head from the pillow and look at him through the waves of her tangled hair.
"Hey," he said quietly and took a step closer, but paused when she groaned and dropped her head back onto the pillow.
The silence stretched between them and Jeremy wondered what to say.
"Coffee?" he finally asked, and that seemed like the right idea, since she nodded.
Thankfully, the breakfast was there waiting for him when he opened the front door. He picked up the tray and took it inside before pouring her a cup of coffee and placing it on the nightstand.
"Painkillers?"
She lifted her hand and either she was asking for two, or giving him the British two-finger salute. Jeremy decided to risk it and brought her the pills.
When he paused by the bed, not knowing what to do next, she sighed and sat up slowly. She took the pills and swallowed them, washing them down with coffee, but avoided looking at him the whole time.
"I admit that my memory of last night gets a little fuzzy at the end, but I think I get the gist," she finally said, speaking to her cup. "I know you want to talk, but I need a shower first." She scrunched her nose. "Really badly."
"Sure, of course." He stepped away, just in case she thought he was standing between her and the bathroom, and he walked back to the open back door. He didn't turn when he heard her get up and move around and he didn't turn when he heard the bathroom door close. He stood there, watching the forest, and tried to figure out for the hundredth time what to say to her to make her stay. To make her believe that he wanted it, them, and that he was willing to work for it, if she was, too.
Jeremy knew she always spent a lot of time in the bathroom, but this time it seemed to drag on and on. He thought it was just his nerves talking, but a glance at the clock told him it wasn't. She was probably trying to banish any signs of her hangover by working even harder than usual to look good.
Or she's avoiding you, the unhelpful and defeatist voice spoke up again.
If she was avoiding him because she didn't want whatever he had to offer, he would leave her alone. He would do whatever she was comfortable with, he could even move out for the night to one of the unused cabins. The staff would make that happen for him, he was sure.
But if she was avoiding him because she was embarrassed about what she said… Well. He would have to put that worry to rest, and quick.
He made the bed and hesitated before putting the tray on his cleared out nightstand. He wasn't sure if she would want to eat, but maybe having a distraction in the form of food would make the conversation go smoother.
Or maybe he was trying to chicken out again.
Finally, the bathroom door opened and Tara appeared, pausing right after. It was like a distorted repeat of yesterday. But while last night, he had been sure she'd paused for the effect, this time it seemed to be out of hesitation. And while then she had been dressed up for a nice evening out, now her impeccable outfit and make up seemed to be a shield she was hiding behind.
There goes nothing, he thought and opened his mouth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tara wished she could hide until it was time to leave, but she forced herself to just deal with it head on. The shower didn't help for a broken heart but it made her feel at least semi-able to do this.
She met Jeremy's gaze from across the room and held her breath.
"I don't know how much you remember, but I want to say upfront that I want to have a relationship with you."
Tara stared, not believing her ears, but he wasn't done.
"A real relationship, one where we both know where we stand," he was saying as she struggled to calm her heart that was hammering in her chest. "I was going to talk to you about it earlier in the week, but I kept putting it off."
"Why?" she asked in a quiet voice, crossing her arms against her chest to stop them from trembling.
"Why did I keep putting it off?" Jeremy asked. When she nodded, he continued. "Because I didn't know what you wanted. And I was afraid," he added after a slight hesitation.
He looked tense and worried, and Tara wanted to cross the room and throw her arms around him, and let him hold her, too. She stayed in place, though. They'd never talked, glossing over the important things, and it brought them right here. They needed to do better now.
"I was afraid that you didn't want anything more and that it would make the whole week awkward," he continued. "I wanted us to have a real time together, real vacation. To be honest, I also hoped that if the week went well, it would be easier to convince you to say yes to my plan." He offered her a self-depreciating smile. "But I waited for too long. I'm sorry for that."
"I was putting our conversation off, too," she admitted after he fell silent. She owed him that. "Although I thought we would be having a different one."
He looked as if he wanted to move closer, but held on. We have that in common, too, she thought. Maybe they were both learning.
"What kind of conversation did you think it would be?"
Tara dropped her gaze to the floor before meeting his again. "The one where we would end this, because I didn't want to keep doing this anymore."
He looked as if she hit him, and Tara shook her head, taking a step forward.
&
nbsp; "Wait, that came out wrong," she said quickly. "I meant I didn't want to do a secret, long-distance relationship when we see each other every few months. I want something real now. Something that has a future." She bit her lower lip. "I'm not sure what that would be, but I know it's not like what we've had. I just… I didn't know a real relationship was an alternative you'd like to consider."
"I would. I did." He stepped forward—one step, then another, and another—until they were almost touching. "I don't want to do what we've been doing, either. I want more."
She almost smiled, something in her stomach fluttering with hope right now, but then another thought hit her. She frowned and bit her lower lip again.
"But is it even possible? We live different lives, and—"
"It's possible," he cut in, crossing the last of the distance and putting his hands on her hips. He moved slowly, possibly giving her time to back out, but she didn't. She didn't want to pull away from him, ever. "If we want this to work, it will work."
"It's not that I don't want it to work," Tara said, looking at the wall behind him before meeting his gaze again. "I do. I do want that. But I just… I don't know how. With you in LA half the time and in Atlanta the other half, while I'm in New York… I don't know. We sort of tried long-distance this last year, but I don't want a repeat of that. I'm sorry. I don't want to see you every couple of months."
"We will make it work," he said. He sounded so sure, so determined, that Tara found it hard not to trust him. And she did, she believed he wanted it, but it wasn't enough.
"It's easy to say, when we're here," she said, fighting off the excitement that was rushing through her veins and trying to let her to give in. She couldn't, though. She needed to stand with two feet on the ground now.
"It's easy to say, but it's not that hard to do, either." He tangled their fingers together and lifted their hands to kiss her knuckles. "I don't have anything to do until the press tour for Collectibles starts in November. I can stay in New York for most of that time. I'll be gone for the press tour, but then we break before Christmas. We start shooting again in late January, but they won't need me for the whole shoot. And even if, Georgia isn't that far. I can fly to you, or you can come to me. I'll buy you tickets every weekend, if—"
