Page 112 of Broken Romeo
“What’s this?” I ask, nudging the folder with my bare toe.
Holden exhales and bends to retrieve the folder, also picking up the garment bag and hanging it on the door beside us.
“This,” he says, handing me the papers. “This is your official offer. Your contract to play Skyler. I don’t need any more rehearsals to know that you deserve this part.”
I clutch the contracts within my shaking hands. “I… I got the part?”
He smiles shyly and his fingers wrap around his ring, spinning it. “You earned it.”
Tears fill my eyes as I hug the folder to my chest. A contract. My first Broadway contract.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
We stay there, locked in each other’s eyes before finally, Holden clears his throat, pulling away from me and asking, “Are you sure you don’t want to ride to the party with me?”
The question is a tether back to reality.
Holden is my director.
My ex who hurt me.
And he doesn’t want me at this party for reasons he’s not willing to divulge.
Handing me the contract for the show doesn’t change any of those other things.
It doesn’t change the secrets. The lies. The deception.
All under the guise of ‘protecting me.’
I hug my arms into my body, pulling my robe closed and tying a knot at my hip. “I guess that depends. Are you going to tell me why you didn’t want me going tonight?”
“This party tonight—you don’t understand…”
“Make me understand!”
Finally, he blurts out, “It’s my dad. He’s one of the producers of Pillow Fight.” He scrubs his hands down over his face. “And he’s going to be at the party tonight with Laurie.”
There are a million things I’d expected Holden to say, but that wasn’t one of them.
My blood runs cold at the thought of Erik Dorsey, Holden’s dad.
An icy grin curves my lips. “Good,” I say. “I’d love to have a talk with him.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Holden
Five Years Ago…
I was so fucking tired and it wasn’t even eight p.m.
I spent twenty minutes on the phone, listening to my mom sleep, waiting for each breath like it may be her last, until Anne Marie got there.
When I heard her arrive in the house, I’d hung up because the last thing I wanted to hear was my mom fawning over her best friend and asking why she hadn’t been around as much. Everyone knew why Anne Marie stayed away.
Everyone except Mom.
I waited anxiously for my Dad to text me, busying myself with a bowl of Duncan’s spaghetti.