Page 35 of Cruel Embers
Her eyes roam over my face as she studies me. Maybe she’s finally starting to get it.
ChapterEighteen
VIOLET
To say I am stunned is an understatement. It’s been nearly two weeks since I was called back for a second audition, and I had resigned myself to the fact I hadn’t got the part. It turns out I was wrong, really bloody wrong.
I can’t stop my hands from trembling as I dial his number.
“Hello?”
“Nathan, I got it!”
“What?”
I jump up and down on my sofa, squealing into the phone. “I got the part.”
“Fuck, yeah. Okay, are you working tonight?”
Falling onto my back, breathing hard, I shake my head. “Nope, I’m off for two days.”
“Good, because we’re celebrating, you choose where. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
Before I even reply, he hangs up. I throw my arm over my face, unable to stop the tears, and then I sit up abruptly and pinch myself.
“Nope, definitely not dreaming.”
Putting my phone on speaker, I call Char and head to my room to look for something to wear.
“You got it,” she says immediately.
My face aches from smiling so hard. “Yes!” I squeal.
“I knew you would. So proud of you.”
I open my wardrobe and move the hangers to see what to wear.
“We need a girls’ night to celebrate,” she says.
“Sounds like a plan, Stan.”
Grabbing a couple of hangers with some of my dresses, I pull them out and hang them on the open door.
“Have you told your mum and dad?”
Sighing, I sit on the edge of the bed. “No, I’ll tell them next time I see them.” I don’t bother adding how they didn’t even ask how my first audition went. Charlotte knows better than most on what they can be like, but she doesn’t see half of it, and I’m glad she already had her own grief to bear. She doesn’t need the weight of theirs too.
“I know they get caught in the past sometimes, Vi, but they do love you.”
My nose tingles, a wave of emotion hitting me square in the chest. I have no idea how she always manages to see through me, even when I think I’m protecting her.
“I know, but it’s hard…”To compete with a ghostis on the tip of my tongue. But I hate myself for even thinking it because Max couldn’t control what happened to him any more than my parents can control how they deal with it. “I just wish they’d be more present, you know.”
It’s not a competition, but knowing I will never measure up to their ideals or expectations is the hardest part because I am not and never will be Max.
“Yeah, I do. But I am so fucking proud of you,” she says, and it’s impossible to ignore the conviction in her words.
“I’m so glad you’re my best friend.” I wipe away a stray tear, feeling super nostalgic.
