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“Nia knew…” she began, unable to get the rest out.
“No. I mean, she knows I’m her accountant, obviously. And she offered me a chance at the Zane job, because I kinda needed legal help. A lot of legal help.”
Daphne stared at him.
“No,” he said emphatically. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Nia wouldn’t have set us up if I was some kind of criminal.”
“Just if you were an accountant… when I needed an actor.”
“I have some acting experience,” he said. “Which I, uh, may have exaggerated to Nia… and exaggerated more to you. But Nia didn’t know I was putting on a whole other persona as Chris Ainsworth. That was all me. I played the guy I thought you’d expect, because I really needed the job. Daphne?”
She was running for the bathroom. She made it to the toilet just in time.
“Daphne?” he said behind her.
She frantically waved for him to leave. “Stress,” she mumbled, still looking at the toilet. “I stress-puke.”
Yep, definitely her sexiest trait. And now she was doing it right in front of…
Who was she doing it in front of? She wasn’t sure anymore.
Not an actor.
That was all she could think about right now. Chris wasn’t an actor, and there was a film crew outside.
This was why he’d come clean. He was telling her he couldn’t do this. He’d tried playing Zane—he really had been doing an amazing job—but now he was finished. Somewhere between the security-alarm drama and the firearm questions, he’d realized this was not what he’d signed up for, and he was out.
Quitting the role of Zane Remington.
While a film crew was outside, waiting to interview Zane Remington.
She leaned over the toilet again. Chris wisely retreated and shut the bathroom door.
Why couldn’t he have told her yesterday, when there would have been time to cancel the interview? Or this morning, when the crew showed up early, and she could have claimed he was sick and she’d been about to call them?
This wasn’t Chris’s fault. Okay, it was a little, for lying to her. But also a little her fault for insisting on an actor and shutting Nia down when she suggested anything else. Nia had been working under an impossible timeline, and she knew Chris could handle it—which he had. Daphne should have trusted her.
Daphne had been so desperate to be published. She kept thinking she’d have a chance to come clean. When? Each step—getting an agent, getting a publisher, getting a huge marketing push—had been such a dream come true that she barely dared to breathe for fear of shattering it.
This was her fault for being scared and desperate, for wanting more than the universe deemed her worthy of, and now she was in so deep she couldn’t get out without ruining everything, and that was exactly what she needed to do because she would not pressure Chris to stay—
The door creaked open. She turned and, as she did, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, face blotchy, hair wild, eyes watering, and Chris was standing there, seeing her like this.
Which was the last thing that mattered, wasn’t it?
“I’ll be out in—” she started mumbling when he thrust something into her lowered field of vision. Thrust two things: a bottle of mouthwash and a glass of water.
Daphne’s eyes teared up, which might look adorable on some women, but it just set her nose running.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He gave a laugh that sounded startled. “I think that’s my line, D.”
Hearing him call her by Chris Ainsworth’s presumptuously assigned diminutive set her eyes burning with fresh tears. She’d hated when he called her that… until she realized she didn’t really hate it at all.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he pushed the water into her hand, the glass cool against her sweaty palms.
She shook her head as she took it—and the mouthwash—and turned to the sink. She used the mouthwash and drank the water and then raked her hair back, as if that would help.
