One Night (7 page)

Bloody hell, she wasn’t Lexi.

“You go on ahead of me. I’ll be out in a jiffy.”

She left him alone, a pout on her full lips. He checked the microphone taped to his forehead one last time, praying the nervous sweat wouldn’t wash it away, then stood. His eighteenth century collar dug into his neck, but he couldn’t loosen it. His costume designer would pitch a bigger hissy fit than a three-year-old leaving a candy store empty handed. Hand on the doorknob, he took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.

Showtime.

***

Lexi settled into her seat in the first row and took a sip of her Merlot. They only allowed the expensive bar cups with lids into the theater, but she didn’t care how much it cost because she needed all the help she could get to survive this show. She almost skipped it, but then the image of her forlorn pregnant, bedridden sister popped into her head—and the guilt could not be denied.

So she came
despite
the fear of running into Justin outside the theater again.

She certainly didn’t come so she could search the shadows for Justin … even though she did exactly that right now. Not like it mattered, anyway. Even if he saw her, he would avoid her. They had a one-night stand and nothing else. They’d agreed on a night of distraction, and they’d both followed through with their end of the agreement.

She was the one who imagined that it could be more, that he could be the one to fill that emptiness in her life, that he could be the one she could share her life with.
Stupid imagination
, swooping in and ruining it all.

Scanning the area above the stage, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was up there somewhere, watching her. Even if he was, would he be able to see her from his perch? She wished she had thought to ask him where he worked. For all she knew, he was off to the left staring at her. Would he be happy to see her, or would he hide in the shadows to avoid an awkward confrontation?

Someone sat beside her, and she scooted over, dropping her Playbill on the floor. Though she debated picking it up, she decided not to bother. She didn’t want to read it, and she would pick it up before she left.

“You actually came?” a deep voice asked.

Lexi choked on her drink, turning to face her brother-in-law. “Max? What are you doing here?”

He slapped his Playbill facedown on his lap and sighed. “Jessie wanted me to keep you company today. She’s worried you’ll be lonely. And so am I.”

“Lonely? Nah.” After all, last night she hadn’t been lonely. She’d been blissfully happy up until she left Justin’s side. Lexi laughed, smoothing her black skirt over her legs. “I’m okay.”

“Are you?” Max raised a brow, searching her face. “You look tired, little sis.”

She swallowed hard. He’d been around since she was ten, and he could read her way too well for her to bother with lying. “I
am
tired. And sad. And confused. But I’m fine.”

“Why are you confused?”

Of course he latched on to that part of her sentence—the one part she hadn’t really meant to admit. The lights dimmed, and the orchestra started up. Saved by the bell—er, show. She leaned closer and squeezed his knee. “I’m okay. Or, I’ll be okay once this torture is over.”

He nodded, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “Do you want to leave? I can watch this and get the signatures. Jessie will never know you didn’t stay. I’ve heard this one is a tear-jerker.”

She should say yes. She should flee the scene and take the reprieve when she could—but then she might miss her chance to see
him
. “No, I’ll stay. How sad could it possibly be?”

The orchestra started up, and she settled in to be bored out of her mind. However, not thirty minutes into the play, she realized she wasn’t bored. And it also turned out that a musical could be really damn sad. She swiped the tears off her cheeks and curled the tissue Max gave her into her fist. Jesus Christ, how much more tragedy could these characters take?

How much more could
she
take?

At one point, she couldn’t keep track whether she was crying or just sitting there in mind-numbing sadness. Max threw his arm over her shoulder and she snuggled closer, not ripping her eyes off the stage even once. When the scene changed and a new set of actors came out, she turned to Max and whispered, “This is actually good.”

“It is.” He nodded, flipping the Playbill face up on his lap. Opening it, he found the actor’s page with their pictures. “Here comes the guy Jessie is half in love with. The whole reason you’re here. Justin Holloway, otherwise known as Marius. He’s quite the sensation in the UK.”

A spark of dread washed over her, and she looked down at the book. No sooner did her eyes fall on his picture than he sang—and she knew. She knew who it was on the stage. Justin wasn’t stage crew. He wasn’t even a small part in the musical. He was Justin-freaking-Holloway … one of the biggest stars of the goddamn show.

But he’d been wearing a stage crew shirt!

And she was the biggest fool on the surface of the planet. As he sang about love at first sight, the same song he’d sang to
her
outside of the restaurant, she thought back on the time they had spent together. Had he ever actually
said
he was stage crew? Had he ever inferred he wasn’t? And more importantly, would he see her sitting in the crowd?

She hunkered down in her seat more, trying to avoid that very thing. When he came within a few feet of her, his eyes scanning the crowd as he sang, she thought she would be busted. She swore his eyes fell on her—even stayed for a second or two. He even paled and messed up his lyrics. But then he looked away and kept singing.

The curtains fell for intermission, and so did her guard.

If he came out right now, he would see how uncertain she was about everything. Who was he really? And what did last night really mean to him? Had it all been a game? She grabbed her Playbill off the floor and scanned through his bio. No mention of family or anyone special in his life.

At least that had been the truth.

Her heart twisted, so she twisted the Playbill in between her hands. “Son of a bitch.”

“Why do you look like you want to punch someone, cry, or both?”

Lexi startled. “When did you get back?”

“Just now.” Max handed her a glass of wine, which he’d gone out into the lobby to refill, and his eyes narrowed. “But I know the look on your face. It’s not a good sign.”

She looked down at the book she’d crumbled up in her hand. Sighing, she opened it up and pointed an accusing finger at Justin’s face in the gray photo. “See him?”

Max raised a brow. “Yeah, he’s been singing in my face. What about him?”

“He lied to me.”

“All actors lie.” He opened his mouth and closed it, seeming to be at a loss for words. “You realize he’s acting up there, right? And he’s not singing to you
directly
—even if he does keep looking at you. By the way, I think you have a fan.”

“Oh my God, Max. Yes, I’m aware he’s acting—and he doesn’t keep looking at me.”
Was he
? “I met him last night.”

“Wait, you know him?” Max leaned closer. “Jessie’s gonna flip. How did you meet him? And why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“I didn’t know.” Her cheeks heated. “He let me think he was stage crew.”

“He
told
you he was stage crew? Well that’s odd.”

“Well … not exactly.” She tucked strands of hair behind her ear, knowing where this was going. “I assumed he was, and he didn’t correct me.” When he opened his mouth, she blurted out, “He was wearing a stage crew shirt!”

“Ah.” He crossed his arms and smirked. She knew that look. The one that said he saw a loophole and would use it. “Then he technically didn’t lie. You assumed.”

She rolled her eyes. “Says the lawyer.”

“Hey, it’s true. Like it or not, it’s true.” He rubbed his chin, his eyes intent on the empty stage. “I’m more interested in knowing why he lied. Most men in his position would use their status as a way to get laid. Not hide it.”

“I might have said I didn’t like musicals.” She winced. “Or singers. Or actors. But I also told him why. He could’ve told me who he really was.”

“Ah. This sounds promising.” His eyes lit up. “So he didn’t want to admit he was the very thing you don’t like. Didn’t want to be put into that category. Hmm … ”

It was a lie, pure and simple. The lights flickered, warning the show was about to start again. People all around them rushed to their seats, and she fidgeted with her cup. “He could’ve told me the truth.”

“But he didn’t. I’m assuming he had his reasons for not coming clean. Maybe women are always assuming things about him because he’s an actor. Maybe he wanted to pretend he wasn’t one for one night.” Max shrugged. “The only way to find out is to ask him his reasons. But I’m more interested to find out how you met him, and how you spent your time together.”

“Nope.” Lexi flushed and took a drink of her wine. She could use a shot of
Patron
right about now. What had Justin awakened in her? An image of her licking his wrist slammed into her, making her hold her breath. The man sitting on the other side of her squeezed through, and she moved her feet out of the way to avoid being trampled. “Not happening. That’s my own business.”

“Mmhm.” He crossed his arms over his chest, not dropping his gaze. “I’ll get it out of you eventually. And if I can’t—your sister will.”

Lexi dropped her head back on the seat. “You’re going to tell her, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

Lexi groaned. “You’re cruel and heartless.”

“Might be. But in all seriousness? I’m glad you met this guy last night.”

“Why? I barely even know him—and he lied to me.” She thumbed through the Playbill, finding the page with his picture on it. Staring down at his smiling face, she thought to herself,
I probably don’t even know him at all.

 But that wasn’t quite true, now was it? She knew how his hands felt on her skin. Amazing. How he sounded when he talked, and how good he made her feel when he held her close, or made her laugh. Incredibly free. All of those sensations hadn’t been pretend. Last night had been real. She couldn’t have imagined it.

She shifted in her seat, trying to ignore the stirrings of her body. Now was
so
not the time to get aroused.

Max reached out and squeezed her fingers. “When I came in here, I was expecting to find you crying in the chair, alone and miserable about Hugh. Instead … you look more alive than I’ve seen you in years.” He motioned between her and the stage with his finger. “And this? Hugh would’ve approved of it. Of you moving on.”

Lexi tensed, her heart plummeting. He was right. She’d moved on. Had been so distracted by everything going on with Justin that Hugh hadn’t even crossed her mind throughout the whole musical. She hadn’t even thought of him
once
since she saw Justin again. She hadn’t thought of anything but Justin. Would Hugh really have wanted her to be happy already? To move on so fast? Was moving on just over a year later too fast? Would he have been betrayed by how quickly she went into Justin’s arms—and how right it felt to be there?

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure you’re right. It feels wrong. We were supposed to grow old together. Have a family together.”

“But he wouldn’t want you to grow old alone.” Max hugged her close. “Trust me on this. Don’t run away from something that makes you happy because you feel guilty. You shouldn’t. Hugh wouldn’t want you miserable and alone.”

Lexi swiped the tears that had nothing to do with the musical away, just as the lights dimmed. “I will try to move on—but I don’t think it’ll be with Justin. It was one night and one night only.”

Justin strode onto the stage, his eyes falling immediately to her and Max—who had his arm around her shoulder. Justin stiffened, tearing his eyes away from her and onto his pretty costar, and sang without breaking stride. But that one-second span where their eyes met told her all she needed to know.

He wasn’t happy that she was in the arms of another man …

Chapter Six

Bloody fucking hell. If Lexi got even so much as an inch closer to that asshole next to her, Justin was going to flip the fuck out.

Outwardly, he sang his part with all of his soul, pretending his mind wasn’t wandering to the woman in the first row. He acted as if his heart wasn’t being ripped in two right now—since that was his job. To act. But it was a lot harder to act when the feelings were real. When they hurt as much as he hurt right now.

There, sitting with tears running down her face, was Lexi. She was crying and obviously enjoying the musical she supposedly hated. She had fucking lied—and had obviously lied about other things, as well. After all, she was with a bloke who seemed
awfully
familiar with her. And
awfully
comfortable touching her.

And he felt fucking gutted over this whole situation.

Who was the asshole next to her? Why was he touching her? And why did she bloody well let him? He wished he could stop singing, storm off the stage, and demand to know the blasted truth about what she was doing here. Had she lied to him about her relationship status? Was she really married, or engaged—instead of a grieving fiancée left behind? Worse yet, had she known who he was all along?

Perhaps she had led him on so she could brag to her friends about how she had bedded him the night before his big opening. Had he been played?

It sure felt like he fucking had.

Toward the end of the play, he couldn’t help but look down at her as he sang. Couldn’t help but sing to her and her alone, silently questioning her motives and the one night they’d shared together. She straightened when their eyes met, her own not dropping from him no matter how long he stared at her. He was forced to look away first, since he needed to kiss his fiancée on stage.