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"However," she continued, her tone softening, "as your friend, I have to say . . . it's about damn time you allowed yourself some happiness, Gen. You've been living like a monk for years, throwing yourself into your work at the expense ofeverything else. Maybe this thing, complicated as it might be, is exactly what you need."
Genevieve blinked, taken aback by Marcia's frank response. "You can't be serious. You, of all people, encouraging me to pursue a potentially career-ruining affair?"
Marcia laughed, rich and warm. "Oh, don't look so shocked. I may be a hardass when it comes to work, but even I know the value of a little fun now and then. Besides, you're both consenting adults. As long as you're discreet and it doesn't impact the show, where's the harm?"
"That's a big ‘if,’" Genevieve muttered, though she could feel a spark of hope kindling in her chest.
"True," Marcia conceded. "But then again, when have you ever shied away from a challenge? Just be careful, Gen. And for God's sake, try to enjoy yourself a little. You've earned it."
As they finished their meal, the conversation drifted to lighter topics, but Genevieve's mind kept returning to Marcia's words. Perhaps her friend was right. Perhaps it was time to allow herself a bit of joy, even if it came with risks.
Back in her apartment that night, Genevieve found herself pacing restlessly. The idea of pursuing something with Eden, of allowing herself that vulnerability, both exhilarated and terrified her. She paused by the window, gazing out at the twinkling lights of the city below.
For so long, she had defined herself solely through her work. Every decision, every relationship, every moment of her life had been filtered through the lens of her career. But now, with Eden, she felt a spark of something different. Something that made her want to reach beyond the familiar confines of her ambition.
Genevieve took a deep breath and reached a decision. She could do this. She could explore this connection with Eden, as long as it didn't compromise their work. After all, wasn't thatwhat great art was about? Taking risks, pushing boundaries, and exploring the depths of human experience?
With a newfound sense of resolve, Genevieve turned away from the window. Tomorrow's rehearsal would be a test, a chance to see if she could truly balance her growing feelings for Eden with the demands of the production.
The next morning, Genevieve arrived at the theatre early as usual, her nerves humming with anticipation. As the cast began to filter in, she watched Eden closely, searching for any sign that she was growing distracted, regretful, or even uncomfortable.
But as they dove into the day's work, Genevieve's concerns began to fade. If anything, Eden seemed more focused, more in tune with her character than ever before. She moved through the scenes with a grace and intensity that left Genevieve breathless.
During a particularly charged moment between Beatrice and Benedick, Eden delivered her lines with such raw emotion that the entire room fell silent. Genevieve felt a surge of pride mixed with deep, aching desire. This was everything she had hoped for when she’d cast Eden, and more.
As the rehearsal drew to a close, Genevieve made an impulsive decision. "Excellent work today, everyone," she called out. "Especially you, Eden. I'd like to discuss some notes with you. Would you stay behind for a moment?"
Eden nodded, the merest hint of a co-conspiratorial smirk flickering across her face. As the rest of the cast filed out, Genevieve approached her, suddenly feeling as nervous as a schoolgirl with a crush.
"That was truly remarkable work today," Genevieve began, keeping her voice low. "You've made incredible progress with the character."
Eden beamed at the praise. "Thank you. I feel like I'm finally starting to understand Beatrice on a deeper level."
Genevieve nodded, steeling herself for what she was about to say next. "I was wondering if you might like to discuss the upcoming scenes in a more . . . private setting. Perhaps over dinner at my place?"
The invitation dangled in the air between them, laden with unspoken promises. For a moment, Genevieve feared she had overstepped, and that the delicate balance they had struck would come crashing down around them.
But then Eden smiled. A slow, radiant smile that sent Genevieve’s heart racing. "I'd love to," she said softly.
"Wonderful," Genevieve replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rush of excitement coursing through her. "Shall we say eight o'clock?"
Eden nodded, her eyes sparkling. "I'll be there."
Back at home, Genevieve found herself fussing over details she normally wouldn't have given a second thought to. She rearranged the throw pillows on her sofa three times before forcing herself to stop. This wasn't like her, this nervous energy and this desire to impress.
She had just finished lighting a few candles (was that too much? too romantic?) when the intercom buzzed. Immediately Genevieve’s heart leapt into her throat.
Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Genevieve pressed the button to let her in. As she waited for Eden to make her way up, she found herself smoothing down her hair and checking her reflection in the hallway mirror.
"Get a grip," she muttered to herself. "You're supposed to be convincing her you’re in control."
But all her self-admonishments flew out the window the moment Genevieve opened the door. Eden stood there, looking breathtakingly beautiful in a simple shirtdress, her golden hair falling in soft waves around her shoulders.
"Hi," Eden said, a shy smile playing at her lips. "I hope I'm not too early."
Genevieve shook her head, stepping back to let her in. "Not at all. You're right on time."
As Eden crossed the threshold, Genevieve felt as if something monumental had shifted. This wasn't just about their physical attraction anymore, or even about the play. By inviting Eden into her home, she was opening up a part of herself she had kept walled off for years.
