“Sounds exciting,” he finally said.
Erin nodded enthusiastically. “I had no idea Mona knew Brennan Avery, of all people. If anyone can get us to Broadway, he can. Though why didn’t Mona cast him to begin with so we didn’t have to waste so much time trying to work with Jacob? Seriously, it’s like night and day.” She trailed off when she saw the expression on his face. “What?” she demanded, a note of defensiveness in her voice.
Sarah clicked off the TV. “I think I’ll go take a shower.” She turned to Matt. “And maybe you should consider what I said.” She gave him a knowing look before disappearing down the hallway.
“What was that about?” Erin asked. “What’d she say?” She went to the kitchen for a glass of water.
Matt leaned forward and rubbed his eyes. His stomach churned. “Nothing. She was asking me some questions before you came home. Questions about us.”
Erin scowled. “First of all, it’s none of her business. Second, you say that like there is an us when there isn’t; at least not that way.”
“Yeah, I know, Erin.” His temper flared. “You tell me all the time. Yet somehow, I always seem to be the first person you call when you’re down and the first one you run to when you need help. Why do you think that is?”
Erin slammed her glass down on the counter, sloshing water over the rim. “Well pardon me for thinking we were friends and believing for some strange reason, I could count on you.”.
“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it.”
“Really? Then what are you saying? You claim you want to be friends, but that’s not the truth, is it? No matter what I give, you always want more. You’re always pushing, trying to get me to feel something I don’t.” She grabbed a towel and threw it on top of the spilled water. “Stop pressuring me!”
The anger whooshed out of him, leaving him deflated and tired. He got to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “You’re right, I do want more. I guess I’m not very good at letting go of something I want—or someone,” he amended quickly when she opened her mouth to argue. “But I’m not trying to force you. All I’ve ever wanted is a chance.”
“I gave you a chance,” she whispered. “That’s what this whole last week has been, don’t you see?”
“And it wasn’t enough, is that what you’re saying?”
Erin paused, and Matt had his answer. “I need to go,” he said. “It’s time to walk the dog.”
She didn’t answer as he let himself out.
**
Time to walk to dog. Erin swished the damp towel over the kitchen counter in quick, angry strokes. Of course he had to throw that at her. As if she didn’t already feel guilty enough, now he was leaving to take care of a dog he didn’t even want. A dog he got stuck with because of her mistake.
She blinked back tears. This had been a great day; she wasn’t going to let Matt ruin it. Besides, she didn’t have anything to feel guilty about. Okay, the dog, yes, but not Brennan. One kiss didn’t mean anything; she and Matt weren’t a couple. She had never asked for his loyalty and he had no right to demand hers.
She crumpled the towel in her fist and went toward her room to throw it in her laundry basket, but paused outside Sarah’s door. What had Sarah said before she’d come home? And why were they talking about her, anyway? Fresh anger rose at the thought, but she forced it away and continued to her room. She couldn’t worry about them. Brennan had changed the play; she had to go through every scene to examine how her character would react to this new and different version of the leading man. And after that, she had an entire list of personal grooming tasks to complete tonight, including a full manicure and pedicure, moisturizing treatment for her hair, and waxing ... so much waxing.
**
Chapter 19
Matt hadn’t known much about Brennan Avery before Erin told him he’d joined the cast, but thanks to a late-night Google binge, he certainly knew plenty by the next day. Brennan Avery: handsome, rich, young, talented, and available. What more could Erin ask for?
The next morning, Matt skipped work. They’d finished the mayor’s Christmas ornaments, and there wasn’t anything urgent to work on. He stayed home, alternating between trying to catch up on his missed sleep, and sitting at the couch staring moodily at nothing while his mind churned through scenarios between Erin and Brennan. She had laughed about taking part in the Billionaire Bride Pact, but he knew that secretly, she still harbored hope it could happen—especially after Nikki’s lavish wedding. And with Brennan, her hope was probably rekindled with a fury. The thoughts of Brennan giving Erin all the things he, Matt, wanted to but couldn’t afford, canceled out any chance of sleeping.
It was almost noon when his phone rang. He shoved a sleeping Roswell out of the way and dove for it. Matt hoped it was Erin, and his heart sank when he saw Corben’s ugly mug on the caller ID.
“Hey,” he answered, his voice slightly hoarse from not being used much.
“Are you coming in today?” Corben asked.
Matt ran one hand down the thick stubble on his jaw. “Not planning on it. Why?”
“The mail came and Ma’s locked herself in the office. Seems really upset, but won’t talk to me.”
“I’m coming,” Matt said.
Everything was strangely quiet when he arrived. They had no customers, and Corben paced around the showroom, concern etched on his face. Matt shared a look with his brother and made his way to the office.
“Ma? Are you okay?” he called, knocking on the door.
After a moment, the lock clicked and their mother opened the door. He took in her pale complexion and red eyes.
He jerked his head toward Corben and they followed their mother back into the office. Corben shut the door and leaned against it, eyes wary.
“This came,” their mother extended a single white sheet of paper to him, her hands shaking slightly.
One look at the logo across the top and Matt didn’t need to read it. They’d missed the last four loan payments; he knew the bank would be starting foreclosure proceedings. He swore softly and dropped into the chair on the opposite side of his mother’s desk.
“I knew it was coming, but it’s still a shock to see it there written down in black and white, you know?” Tears pooled in her eyes.
If anything had been left of Matt’s heart after Erin was through with it, it was shredded at the sight of his mother’s tears. He swallowed hard. “I know. I don’t know what else we can do. We’ve tried everything, haven’t we?”
She nodded sadly. “I’m so sorry. I hoped we could keep it going ... in his honor.” She glanced at the framed picture of their father sitting near her computer.
“It’s okay, Ma,” Corben said from his spot in front of the door. His hands were balled into fists and stuffed in his pockets, but his voice was steady.
“I know. It just doesn’t feel okay right now,” she whispered.
Matt’s mind was blank. Now what? All he’d ever wanted to do, all he’d ever known, was glass. And now that dream was melting like the shards of a broken piece when he threw it back into the fire.
**
Chapter 20
Erin could hardly believe it was even the same play; adding Brennan had changed everything. He certainly deserved his reputation as a terrific actor. His energy was infectious and the entire production seemed to be infused with new purpose. Scenes came alive in a way they never had with Jacob playing the role. Brennan pushed everyone to explore new facets of their characters, especially Erin.
Mona asked Jocelyn and Mitchell to stand in during the tech rehearsals so Brennan and Erin could work on their character interactions ... and their chemistry, which frankly, did not need a lot of help. They spent a lot of time in the smaller rehearsal room, hashing out scenes, and the air crackled between them. Every time they made eye contact, Erin’s heartbeat edged up a few more notches.
If she could have special-ordered a boyfriend, he would have been exactly like Brennan, and not just because he was
famous, rich, and drop dead handsome. He was also extremely kind, and funny, and they shared the same sense of humor. The morning he began laughing and pointed out an unintentional pun Jocelyn had made, Erin was a goner.
She wasn’t the only one attracted to Brennan’s charisma. The entire cast and crew circulated around him like satellites.
“Have you met the theater ghost?” Jocelyn asked him when they stopped for lunch.
“Not yet.” Brennan’s eyes lit up.
Erin bit back a smile. Actors were notoriously superstitious, to the point that wishing someone “good luck” was extremely rude and saying the name Macbeth inside a theater would often produce a general freak-out.
“Her name is Eleanor and she lives in the basement,” said Jon, one of the lighting techs.
Jocelyn leaned closer to Brennan. “Want to go see?”
“Sure.” He leaped to his feet and held out his hand to Erin. “Coming?”
Jon led them down the stairs, through a rehearsal room, and down a second flight of stairs to a door with chipped gray paint. It creaked ominously when Jon pushed it open, and shivers ran up Erin’s spine. In the room beyond, there was only blackness.
“Ohhh, spooky!” Brennan got out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining the beam around the space, revealing flashes of old props and a lurking shadow in the corner.
At last Brennan’s light illuminated the pull cord hanging in the middle of the room. Jon yanked the cord, and a single dim lightbulb flickered to life.
The basement was a huge room walled in rough concrete. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and dust covered the prop pieces—chairs, tables, boxes of books, and the white cow from an old production of Into the Woods. The lurking shadow turned out to be a huge black boiler, at least twice as tall as Erin. It was menacing in the silent darkness and a creepy chill raced through her.
“Eleanor? Are you here?” Jon called, his voice swallowed up by the room.
They waited. Erin hardly dared to breathe; her ears were straining for some sound.
“Eleanor?” Jon called again. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”
“Okay, I don’t like this,” Jocelyn murmured.
“It’s just Eleanor,” Jon said. “She doesn’t hurt anyone ... usually.”
“What does that mean?” Erin’s voice was shrill.
“Eleanor used to work at the theater,” Jon intoned. “One day she was in the basement lighting the boiler and someone, no one knows who, snuck up behind her and pushed her in.”
Erin stared at the boiler, noticing for the first time that there were doors in its cast-iron side.
“Whoever did it latched the door, and Eleanor burned alive,” Jon continued in a menacing voice. “And now her ghost wanders the building, finding no rest until she avenges her murder.”
Erin was usually the first to dive into a good ghost story, but her mouth was dry as she stared at the boiler.
“H-have you ever seen her?” Jocelyn asked.
Jon nodded. “Once down here, once in the hall outside the rehearsal room, and once on the catwalk above the stage. All her hair is burned off, and one side of her face is a mass of melted scar tissue. If she catches you looking at her, she’ll—”
They stared at him in silence. Erin’s nerves were tingling in anticipation.
“There she is!” Jon hollered, pointing directly behind them.
Jocelyn screamed, and Erin let out a gasp. Instinctively, she threw herself at Brennan, who wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He laughed. “You’re a good storyteller,” he told Jon. “You should be an actor.”
Jon chuckled modestly. “No thanks. I’d rather do tech.”
“That was mean!” Jocelyn panted, one hand clutching her chest. “I could have had a heart attack.” She turned and stomped up the stairs.
“I’m only kidding,” Jon called. “Jocelyn? C’mon, it was a joke.” He hurried after her.
“You okay?” Brennan looked down at Erin. He still held her in his arms, their bodies pressing together, and her shivers of fear were quickly being replaced by shivers of a different kind.
“Sure.” It came out as a squeak, making him chuckle. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Sure. Sorry ... I guess I’m a wimp.”
“I’m not sorry,” Brennan murmured. His head dipped as his mouth came down to meet hers.
Erin’s heart beat out of control. Brennan’s shirt was warm and soft under her fingertips as she slid her arms around his waist. His hands pressed against her back, pulling her closer. The roughness of the stubble above his lip rubbed on her cheek as he moved from her lips to kiss along her cheekbone, then back.
When they broke off for air, he smiled. “I hope that’s okay.”
“I wouldn’t have let you if it wasn’t okay,” Erin replied. She took a step back. As much as she wanted to stay in Brennan’s arms, she was cold and the basement was still giving her the creeps. “Let’s get out of here.”
Brennan grinned. “It’s probably almost time to start again.”
He threaded his fingers through hers and led her to the stairs and her surge of happiness was almost strong enough to push away the thought that her fingers fit slightly better with Matt’s than they did with Brennan’s.
**
Chapter 21
The show didn’t start until eight, but Erin was at the theater by two. Opening nights were special and she liked to take her time, walk through her lines and marks, and take a few moments to absorb the feeing of the theater. This was the payoff. The long weeks of rehearsals, the effort of memorization, the pain of character development, all coalesced to create this very special sense of anticipation and she hated to rush it.
She put her backpack in her dressing room and made her way to the stage. The house lights were on while the front of house crew vacuumed the aisles and wiped down chairs. In the booth, the sound and lighting techs went over cues. The lights on the stage flashed in and out as they hit each mark. No one took any notice of her.
She closed her eyes, letting herself enter the zone where she became the character. She did one walkthrough, took a small break for water and an energy bar, then did one more walkthrough.
An hour before curtain, they had a cast meeting. Mona was radiant in a beaded black dress. “Marion Hirschi from Juniper Tree and Carrie Eldredge from the Collins Group are here,” she said, naming two big name Broadway producers. “We had lunch this afternoon and they’re very enthused about the prospects of the show.”
Erin glanced at Brennan. There was no question he was a big reason the producers were here.
They were putting on makeup when there was a knock at the door, and the stage manager entered with flowers in a crystal vase. “Erin,” she said brusquely, handing over the flowers. “No card, though.”
It was a huge bouquet of yellow roses, lending their unique fragrance to the other smells of the room—coffee, greasepaint, Lysol, fabric softener, and dust.
Erin’s heart twisted. She didn’t need a card to know who the flowers were from. Matt always sent her yellow roses on the nights he was in the audience. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night of their fight and had wondered if he would skip out on opening night simply to get back at her. She should have known better. Matt wasn’t that type.
She cleared a place among the clutter of makeup and hair supplies on her dressing table for the vase.
The stage manager broke in over the intercom system every fifteen minutes to give them a countdown to curtain while the actors did their makeup. Erin finished gluing on her fake eyelashes as the dressers arrived to help with costumes.
“I’m so glad corsets are a thing of the past,” Erin panted after Anna had cinched her into the basic white corset Charlotte wore.
“Don’t forget petticoats,” Anna said. She tossed the white cotton petticoat sewn with hoops over Erin’s head and tied it at the waist.
The rest of Erin’s opening act costume consisted of a gray dress with long, bell-shaped sl
eeves and a full skirt, and a large white apron. Her wig was of fine brown hair, pulled into a rather severe bun at the back of her head.
While they were making sure none of Erin’s real hair was escaping the wig, the stage manager came over the intercom. “Full house tonight; places in ten minutes. Break a leg, everyone.”
Erin took as deep a breath as her corset would allow. This was what she loved, but even so, the minutes before curtain were always nerve-wracking.
“Break a leg.” Jocelyn held out her hand, pinky extended.
Erin looped her own pinky around Jocelyn’s. “You too.”
She made her way backstage, dodging stagehands, to the table where each prop had its own designated spot, marked by masking tape. She did a quick once-over to make sure her props were where they should be and her beaded evening bag from act two held the shawl Anna had worked so hard on.
Arms looped around her from behind and pulled her tightly against a broad chest. “Break a leg tonight,” Brennan whispered and goosebumps erupted at the feeling of his breath on her neck.
“You too.” She spun to face him. He was impossibly handsome in his tall black boots, black trousers, and white, loose-fitting shirt under a gray vest. With his dark, slicked-back hair, he looked every inch the Byronic hero.
“You’re going to ruin the makeup,” she teased as he bent to kiss her lips.
He gave her the lightest whisper of a kiss before disappearing into the gloom, making his way to the other side of the stage for his entrance.
A surge of guilt raced through her when she thought of Matt. He sat in the audience, his flowers were on her dressing table, and she was in the wings kissing Brennan. Firmly, she reminded herself that she owed him nothing.
Then the stage manager signaled and the house lights went out. The show started, and she forgot about everything else.
The Passionate One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 9
