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Workaholic. For once, that’s a good thing. U coming?

Yes. Saying good-bye to my actors first.

K. x

Alex slipped down the aisle and out the exit, walking past the red wall overlooking the bar. She stopped at the top of the stairs, surveying the lively party below. Finding Pete and Sara in this crowd would be a struggle. She followed the flow of people down the steps and the familiar wall of heat and noise waiting at the bottom unleashed happy memories of Thirteen’s press night party, of Mark beaming at her across the bar…of his promise that he would never lose her again…Vespa rules…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, pulling herself back to this moment—here, now. Her so-called ‘friend’—nostalgia—could piss off. She was here to create new memories, and nothing—and no one—would stop her.

Inching farther into the fray and passing an overstuffed photo booth spilling random legs and arms, she bumped into the stage manager. “Hey! We did it!”

“You did it, Alex. You must be chuffed. Want a drink?”

“No, I’m good, thanks. I had two glasses of champagne during dinner.” She squinted into the crush. “Have you seen Pete and Sara?”

“Not yet.” The pretty brunette shook her head. “Maybe they’re upstairs? The DJ’s up there.”

“Cool. Thanks.” Alex smiled and craned her neck, scarcely looking over the people around her; even aloft in heels, she was still a short ass amongst this crowd. She huffed and turned around, squeezing her way back towards the front of the room.

“Hey, Alex, all right?”

“Welcome back, girl.”

“Congratulations, wonderful scene!”

She shook hands, hugged, and laughed through the crush. It felt amazing to be back, to reunite with familiar faces she hadn’t seen in two years, people who remembered—who loved—her work. She made lunch plans and exchanged phone numbers. Their vote of confidence left her with perma-grin, sore cheeks, and a revised action plan for the coming weeks. Who knew that a ten-page script could make such a splash? She was back on Theatreland’s radar and fit to burst.

Nodding her head along to the DJ’s beat, she wriggled through swaying bodies and shouty conversations and got stuck behind a raucous pack of actors toting handlebar moustaches and oversized sunglasses outside another photo booth. Her phone vibrated in her hand: a call from an unknown number, stealing her attention as she hightailed around the scrum—

She slammed chin-first into a woman’s back, draped in silky straight hair. “Ooof!” The playwright stumbled backwards, juggling her ringing phone.

“Ow! What the—” The long dark hair took flight, fanning out as the woman spun around, away from her well-dressed clique. Alex’s victim stared, her delicate features disdainful.

I’m such a klutz!Alex wished she could hide behind a pair of those giant photo booth sunglasses and blame this hit-and-run on someone else. “I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine,” the woman snapped, rubbing her shoulder blade as she turned back to her loud cluster of friends.

Brown eyes, soft and wide, peered around the woman. “Christ! Alex?” His lips quivered, not sure whether to smile, laugh, or curse again.

That voice…Alex’s heart dropped to the floor, taking with it the false sense of security that had protected her until six seconds ago. She had come so close to getting through the night without seeing…him.

“Are you okay?” Mark stepped forward, ignoring the suspicious looks and headshakes of his associates. His left hand reached towards Alex’s arm but hesitated and withdrew before making contact. His other hand strangled the neck of his beer bottle.

She half-smiled, preventing an honest answer from leaving her lips. “I’m okay…sorry for crashing into your friend.”

Mark looked tanned. His hair was longer, like he hadn’t cut it since she last saw him in Constellations three months earlier. His voice sounded incredible, his unmistakable scent teasing her closer. The urge to touch him vibrated all the way down to her fingertips.

His chest rose and fell in time with some nervous nodding. “Um, Alex Sinclair, meet Chelsey Wu. Chelsey’s my personal assistant.”

Mark didn’t have to explain Alex’s relevance to Chelsey. The mere mention of her full name unleashed a head tilt of recognition.

“Chels, can you—”

“Absolutely.” She gave Alex a knowing smile and wrangled their gang of six. “Come, meet Mark’s American PR. She’s setting up an interview with Graydon Carter’s people…”

Mark paused as they moved on, his eyes briefly swept down Alex’s body and back up again. He hovered over her lips before reuniting with her eyes. Chills raced along Alex’s arms and neck, every second of his gaze, torture.

“Lex, you look…great.” His eyes did that crinkly thing at the corners that Alex loved. “Your dress, it’s from the wedding, right?”