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“What a load of shite.” Mark’s eyes darkened. “None of that is true, you know.”

“How was I to know that?” She inhaled deeply on her cigarette and tapped it into an ashtray. “So, he asked for my help…”

“And that wasn’t an unprofessional red flag? You should have walked—”

“That’s easy for you to say!” She sputtered, exhaling smoke. “You’re the golden boy of Wink’s client roster, in demand, working all the time. Some of us don’t have it as good as you, okay?”

He waved her smoke away from his face. “Oh, come on—”

“NO!” She tucked her feet underneath her bum, leaning closer. “We don’t, and you know what makes it worse? Some of us were supposed to do great things. Remember when we were fourteen? What those talent scouts said? I was destined to be a star: ‘The Irish Kate Winslet,’ they said. ‘That Sinéad Delaney—a natural.’ I’d go home, watch Titanic for the millionth time, dreaming of my turn in Leo’s arms, but my turn never came.”

“We all slog through tough times—”

She pointed with her dwindling cigarette. “You want tough, Mark? Here’s tough. My highlight reel, yeah? Until I met Wink, the best of Fallon Delaney boasted two tampon adverts, three low-budget Irish movies where I spent half my time naked on my back, and a few videogame voiceovers. So, unless you can compete with that, Mr. I’m-On-TV-Every-Week, then just shut the fuck up.”

“Fal, you’ve only been at it for what, five years?” His voice softened. “You’ve only started.”

“Yeah, started to lose hope. You have no idea what it’s like. Stuck in Dublin, barely scraping by with my shit barista job, sleeping on my friend’s sofa…I couldn’t even afford new headshots.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been there too. It doesn’t excuse—”

“No, you haven’t been there, walking away from the ONLY thing you ever wanted to do…” Surging towards the table, her fingers pounded the end of the cigarette into smithereens in an ashtray. “You never jacked in your dream. I did. Last November, I finally called it a day—it hit me: maybe, they’re right. Maybe, I’m just not good enough. And there I was, filling out online applications for college nursing courses, when a friend emailed about the audition and chemistry read—with YOU of all people.” She flung herself back into the sofa. “So, I went. One last kick at the can, nothing to lose, and I met Wink—”

“Who swooped in and saved the day. Hurrah!” Mark waved his hands sarcastically.

“He offered me a lifeline! He said he would go above and beyond to land me auditions, new roles, if I’d only help him—help YOU! And he’s been good to his word.”

“Christ, Fal…”

“It didn’t seem like a big deal. After Alex and Duff left the party, Wink asked me to stay close to you, make sure you were drinking—a lot—and take you back to the hotel. No sex, no actual cheating required. We’d snap a few photos at the pub and make it look like something was going on then leave it to your drunken blackout and Alex’s imagination to do the rest.”

“So, you faked a bunch of photos? Made up shit to hurt a girl you didn’t even know?”

“Mark, I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry. I’m not a bad person.” She picked at the ends of her hair. “I did what I had to do for my career—and yours. If I’d known Wink wasn’t telling the truth, I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I’m not that girl, babe. You know that. I don’t break up couples. I don’t do the dirty on other girls, it’s not my style.”

Mark scoffed. “Well, you did a bang-up job making it look like you did. The condom—”

“Was Duff’s! We had sex before the party.”

“You fucking thought of everything.”

“Bollocks! I really liked him. I didn’t shag him to conveniently plant a used condom for later! Jesus.”

“Came in handy for your improv though, didn’t it?” Mark looked away, shaking his head.

“You passed out on my bed. I took off your clothes and fell asleep beside you. I did what Wink suggested, nothing more.”

“You acted your little heart out that morning. Poor Fal. So guilty. So upset about Duff finding out. So many tears…I’m such a MUG. I totally bought it. Maybe you really are the Irish Kate Winslet, after all…”

“Shut up, Mark, and stop playing the victim. You signed with Wink for a reason, too. I know he promised you higher profile roles, a bigger fanbase, right? His ambition matches yours—you’re the most driven actor I know! It’s almost scary.”

“This conversation isn’t about why I signed with Wink. It’s about why you did, and the deal you made with him. I just never realized Alex was part of it.” He scoffed. “That first day on set, you said you were happy for me—and her. Obviously, you didn’t mean it.”

“I did mean it. I was happy for you, and I liked Alex when I met her—I really did. I even told Wink early in the evening, she seemed really nice, not like he’d described her…but then she got so wasted, and that confirmed what Wink had told me: she was a train wreck, a distraction you didn’t need.”

“Oh, come on! You never cared about what this would do to me—or Alex.” He stared her down. “You only cared what it could do for you.”

“I was just trying to get my foot on the acting ladder—at last, get what I deserved…and maybe you got what you deserved, too. You’re not blameless here, Mark. You never told Alex who I was or how long we dated.” She sighed. “Not being honest with your girlfriend about what we had…how good it was? That’s on you, lover.”

“I had my reasons.” Mark shrugged.

“Moving the honesty goalposts again, eh?”

“You? Lecturing me on honesty? That’s rich, now that I know our hookup in Manchester—our relationship…grew from this lie…” Mark got up, grabbing his jacket.

“Babe, wait.” Fallon clasped his hand, her diamond ring glinting in the low light. “Don’t leave tonight. Please? It feels like old times, right? Going to bed angry with each other…let me try to make it up to you…”

She tugged at the belt of her robe, letting it slip from her shoulders.

“Not this time, Fallon.” Mark shook his head, putting on his jacket.