Page 126 of Let’s Make a Scene

“I know.” Mike is just as delighted. “Apparently all the press you’ve been getting the last few weeks has viewing figures way up. They’re thrilled and they’ve got big plans for you, more screen time. I don’t suppose you’d be up for a conversation about continuing this little arrangement you have going with Cynthie Taylor for a while longer?”

My eyes shift to Cynthie who is no longer looking at me, but down at her plate. “That wasn’t the agreement,” I say carefully.

“I know,” Mike replies, oblivious “but worth a punt, isn’t it? Do you think she’d be up for it? If you ask me, it’s got her out of a pretty deep hole, so she should be grateful—”

“I’ll talk to Cynthie,” I cut him off.

“Sure, sure.” Mike’s tone is airy. “We’ll discuss later. I’ll ping all the initial stuff through to Scott now for you to look over.”

“Thanks, Mike,” I reply, before we say our goodbyes.

There’s a moment of taut silence.

“Cynthie,” I murmur. “What’s going on?”

She lifts her eyes to mine, smiles brightly. “Nothing! Congratulations! That’s wonderful news, just what you wanted.”

“It is what I wanted,” I agree. “Which you already knew. But the conversation upset you and I want to know why. Is it what Mike said about continuing our arrangement?”

She doesn’t say anything, but her fingers twist together in an anxious gesture that I recognize.

“You know,” I say, leaning back in my chair, “the first time we slept together we didn’t talk afterward. I’ve had so much time to think about that night, to replay it in my head… not just the good bits”—I smile, and her hands still, though her expression remains guarded—“but what happened afterward. I think that in that moment you needed me to be really clear about how I felt. I think you were scared and vulnerable, and that you didn’t have a clue if I liked you or hated you. I think that’s why you told me it was a mistake, what happened between us. I think you said it before I could.”

“I couldn’t face the rejection,” Cynthie murmurs. “You’d made it clear so many times that I wasn’t good enough for you. I suppose I was used to people feeling like that about me.”

Even though it’s what I’d come to suspect, I still feel an awful, hollowing sensation in my stomach. “Cynthie, I never felt that way, never. Not when we were working together, not when we were fighting and you made me want to tear my hair out. I thought you were a fucking firework. I could hardly take my eyes off you. When you told me it was a mistake, I believed that was what you thought and I was crushed; I was just too proud to show it.”

I watch her take in the words.

“You know me better than that now, Cyn,” I say quietly. “Maybe you can see why I made such a stupid mistake. And I know you now too. If we’d been able to be honest with each other then, things could have been different. I don’t want us to repeat the same mistakes again. Please. Talk to me.”

There’s a moment of silence, and I realize I’m holding my breath. It’s not often in life that you’re aware you’re inside one of those big moments, the ones where your entire world can shift, where the story can split into two different directions, but I know in my heart that this is one of them.

I need her to talk to me. This is our chance, and the thought of losing it—of losing her—threatens to break me in half.

“You’re right,” she says, finally. “I know I’m terrible at opening up.” She gives me a wobbly smile. “It’s not like you’re the first person to say it. I just find it… difficult.”

“I get it,” I say, and I lean across the table, taking her hand in mine. “But you can talk to me. You can tell me how you feel. I’ll listen.”

“When Mike said what he did about our arrangement…” she says tentatively, and I nod, “it made me think about the fact that there’s an ulterior motive for both of us to be here, a reason we agreed to pretend in the first place… It makes it hard for me to know what’s real between us.”

I want to leap in, to tell her—adamantly—that it’s all real, that what I feel for her is more than I ever imagined it was possible to feel for another person, but I know that if I want to be the man who deserves her, rather than the boy who let her down, then this has to be about what she needs. So I do what I said I would: I listen.

“It’s not that I think what happened last night was wrong or… or some sort of performance,” she carries on, anxiously.

“Well, that’s positive,” I say. “Because I think we can agree I’m not that good of an actor.”

It surprises a laugh out of her, has her shoulders coming down. “You’re wonderful at that,” she murmurs, “at helping people relax. You always make me feel easier.”

It’s such a simple compliment, but it hits hard. Perhaps because I know it means I’m giving her something she needs. Ease. Comfort. Safety. I’m starting to realize Cynthie hasn’t had a lot of that in her life.

“But the last few weeks,” she continues, and there’s some color back in her face, “acting for the cameras, for other people. I suppose that’s what a lot of my life is… not just the job, but my whole life. Everything has been about appearances, presenting a certain narrative. There’s an image of Cynthie Taylor that’s been crafted by committee, and that’s who I have to be. You and I, we’ve never been in a relationship, but we’ve pretended to be in one twice. We’ve pretended to be in love because it benefited us both professionally, so it’s all still tied into that Cynthie and her image.”

“And the lines between what’s real and what’s for public consumption have blurred,” I suggest. “Again.”

“Exactly.” She nods, relieved that I understand. “And it’s easy to pretend to be in love. That’s just acting, but I know better than anyone that real-life relationships don’t always work out. I’m finding it hard to trust… not you,” she says quickly, seeing something on my face before I can hide it, “but myself.” Her voice drops again. “In a way, I think that’s worse. I think that’s why everything with Shawn hit me so hard… Not because I was in love with him, or because he betrayed me, but because I felt so foolish, so easily manipulated. I lost myself in him.” Her eyes are wide, and it’s obvious that she’s never said any of this before, that perhaps she hasn’t even thought it all through this way before. “He wasn’t what he said he was. And I fell for it. Because… because I was so desperate to be what someone wanted.”

“Cynthie, I get why you would feel that way, but what happened isn’t on you. That’s all on him.” Underneath the table, my hand is clenched so tightly into a fist that I can feel my fingernails digging into my palm. Whatever else the future holds, I hope to god it includes the chance to knock a few of Shawn Hardy’s teeth out.