He wiped water from his eyes and stared at her. After a long moment he said, “Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Fear spread through her veins at his words, for it was how he said them, so calm yet so cold, like they had a meaning she didn’t want to hear—
“Alice, if it’s a relationship you want, I can’t give it to you.”
Her insides twisted painfully, as though someone had reached inside her body and was actually wringing them with all their strength. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. But finally she was able to force down a breath, able to ask, “Why?”
“It’s not going to work.”
“That’s all you have to say?” She couldn’t stop her voice from rising. “After everything? That it’s not going to work?”
“Alice, I never wanted to hurt you.”
A mirthless laugh fell from her lips. “Hurt me? Hurt me! God, Marcus, you’ve more than hurt me!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“So what was this about, then? You getting close to me, acting like…like you care for me?”
He dragged a hand over his face, pulling at the already drawn flesh. “I wanted us to be friends again.”
“And that’s why you seduced me,” she said, not caring if she was sounding hysterical. “So that we could be
friends.
”
Meeting her gaze head on, he blew out a long breath, one that sounded full of pain. “I’m sorry about that. It shouldn’t have happened.”
“Shouldn’t have happened?” she cried. She wanted to pull her hair out. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to disappear. “You pursued me like sex was going out of style. Or were you only interested in bedding Desirée LaCroix?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached for the soap and sloshed it over his body while he stood beneath the jet stream.
“Oh, God,” Alice said in a horrified whisper. “It’s true. That’s all this was about to you.”
“That’s not true.” He reached for her arm so quickly, it was like a reflex action. And she almost broke down right there, remembering just how thrilling it felt to have him touch her, how he’d made her feel the way no one else had ever made her feel.
Marcus spoke gently. “It wasn’t just about sex.”
Her heart dared to hope once again. “Then tell me what it was about, Marcus, because I don’t understand.”
He closed his eyes, and a mix of emotions passed over his face. She couldn’t read them. But then, she couldn’t read him anymore, either.
“I care for you,” he finally replied. “I really do. I always have.” He shrugged. “We’re two adults who care for each other, enjoying a physical relationship.”
“Just friends?” she asked matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
The simplicity of his answer, the fact that Alice had read more into his actions than were really there, crushed her. She’d been stupid to believe in him again, in the impossible dream that he always made her hope for. She jerked her arm free.
“Alice, I never made any promises of love.”
“But you knew how I felt about you.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.”
“And you continued to screw me anyway.” She was forcing the issue, because he in fact
hadn’t
promised her anything, but she’d held out hope that he would love her—just like she had in high school. That he didn’t was almost too much to bear.
“I really am sorry.”
The fact that he truly looked contrite made her want to cry. Either that or kick him. “Oh, that’s priceless.”
“Alice, I know you don’t understand, and I know this is going to sound lame, but I’m…I’m just not good at relationships. It’s better that this all end now, before we both get in over our heads and really end up hurt.”
She was already in over her head, but hearing him say the words made her realize just how big an idiot she was. “You prick.”
He groaned, like he was hurting, but if he expected her to feel sorry for him, he had another thing coming.
“You’re right,” he said. “I am a prick. An asshole. But Alice, you have to believe me—I am sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m attracted to you, and I let that attraction get the better of me. But it would
be wrong to act like I can give you what you want when I…I can’t. I’ve made mistakes in the past, and sometimes I’m not even sure I know myself…” He blew out a harried breath. “Alice…God, I know I have no right to hope this. But do you think we can get past this and be friends again?”
She pulled the shower curtain back into place, obscuring her view of him once again. She couldn’t stand to look at him for a moment longer. The place deep inside her, the place she’d tried to bury all the painful memories of her youth, opened up like a freshly dug grave, bringing all the horror of her past to the surface with full force. She was back in high school again. Back at home, with a mother who didn’t love her and a sister who didn’t have time for her.
He pushed aside the shower curtain. “Alice, let’s talk about this when I come home.”
Yeah, right.
She had to be strong. Some way, somehow, she had to fight the pain. If he didn’t even care about her, she wouldn’t let him know just how badly he was breaking her heart. So squaring her jaw, she stared at him with a lethal expression. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is.”
“I won’t be here.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Marcus said in a firm tone.
“You have no claims on me, Marcus. You can’t tell me what to do.”
Shaking his head, he stepped out of the tub, all six feet, two inches of dripping wet, pure godlike body of him, and a soft whimper almost fell from Alice’s lips. After having a chance to love him, how on earth could she go on without him?
“I can’t be your friend,” she said, surprised at how calm she sounded, considering it felt like her heart was being crushed in a vise. “After everything, how dare you ask me that?”
It was a rhetorical question and judging by his lack of response, Marcus took it as such.
God, he wouldn’t even fight for her friendship.
She had to get out of here. Though as she heard his anguished breath, part of her wished, prayed, silently begged him to tell her he didn’t mean what he’d said and take her in his arms.
Instead he said, “If that’s the way you want it.”
And the vise tightened, shattering her heart into a million pieces.
He grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, then simply walked past her as if they’d been discussing the weather and not the fact that he’d broken her heart.
“I guess you’re proud of yourself,” she said as he reached the door.
He turned around. “Proud of what?”
“Proud of bedding Desirée LaCroix, of course.” The words escaped her lips before she could stop them. “Not many men can say they’ve done that.”
As Marcus stared at her with an expression of utter disbelief, Alice thought she saw something else in his eyes. Sadness? Resignation? Pain?
Stop fooling yourself
. God, how long was she going to be a foolish dreamer?
She charged past him and down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Somehow her legs supported her. Somehow, she stopped herself from turning around and running into his arms to beg him to tell her he hadn’t meant a word he’d said.
But when she reached the comfort of her bedroom, the tough façade finally cracked. She curled up under the covers and threw the pillow over her face, then allowed herself to have a good, long cry.
“Alice.” Her mother’s eyes flashed surprise as she opened the front door.
“Hello, Mother.”
Rosa’s eyes dropped to the suitcase Alice held in one hand. “What are you doing here?”
Alice didn’t answer. Instead, she walked past her mother into the house and placed the suitcase on the floor. “How are you? You’re looking really great. Gaining back the weight you lost,” she added, even though she’d told her mother this when she’d seen her three days ago. She was rambling because otherwise, she might burst into tears.
“I feel wonderful.”
They fell into silence, and Alice wished she could share with her mother her devastation over what had happened with Marcus. But she’d only hear an I-told-you-so from the woman who’d always said she was a dreamer, that Marcus would never love
her, and that was the last thing she wanted to hear right now.
“Has anyone called for me?” Alice asked.
“Your agent called. She’s left a couple messages. And some reporter has been calling here from a paper in Los Angeles. Wants to interview you about the story in the tabloid.”
“When?”
“A couple of days ago.”
Alice was going to ask her mother why she didn’t call her at Marcus’s to tell her any of this news, but at this point, it didn’t matter. Dealing with her problems with Marcus was all she could handle right now.
“Alice, is it true? Did you use drugs while you were in Hollywood?”
Alice’s mouth nearly hit the floor. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that.”
“It’s the pictures, Alice.” While Rosa paused, Alice could only stare at her in disbelief. “I’d understand. If you did.”
“You don’t understand anything,” Alice snapped.
“I understand more than you realize. That’s why I tried to shelter you…”
“You don’t understand anything, Mother. You never understood me, never understood my dreams. Now this? I had hoped that after all this time, I would have finally proven myself to you, but I haven’t. And I think it’s time I accept the fact that I never will.
“There are times when a daughter simply wants her mother.
Needs
her. I’ve finally realized that I’ll never have that. And that hurts me more than you’ll ever know.”
Rosa’s face tensed. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
Alice chuckled mirthlessly. Not “I’m sorry I didn’t believe in you,” or “I’m sorry that I hurt you.” No, Rosa was putting the blame on Alice for not understanding why her own mother would presume her guilty without asking a single question first.
Alice lifted her suitcase. “I have to make some calls.”
“It’s a nice day outside,” Rosa said, though her voice sounded strained. “I think I’ll go for a walk.”
That’s right, Mother. Call me a drug addict, then go for a walk as if nothing happened.
Shaking her head, Alice made her way up the stairs. Halfway up, she heard the front door close.
Her knees wobbled and she gripped the bannister for support. Lord help her, her life was a mess. Someone was out to destroy her reputation—maybe even do her bodily harm—and her mother couldn’t show her any support during this trying time. It was time she gave up the illusion she ever would. Just like she’d finally had to accept that the love of her life would never love her back.
Alice inhaled a deep breath, but it caught in her throat. She wanted to turn around, go back down the steps, leave this house and never return. She almost would have, if she didn’t envision Mia’s lovely face, followed by the faces of the children at the Bartlett Theater House. They needed her. They depended on her. Her heart swelled with pride at the reality she knew deep inside.
She
had made a difference in their lives. It was a special feeling, knowing she had fueled their dreams in a way her own family hadn’t done for her. Other than her father. Other than Marcus.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut, willing the image of Marcus naked and wet from the shower out of her mind. She had to forget him, and the sooner the better.
She climbed the remaining stairs, put her suitcase in her old bedroom. She did a quick scan of the room, saw the dresser filled with jewelry and trinkets—and remembered something. She remembered seeing her mother hide her jewelry box beneath a pillow. At the time, that had struck her as odd. Now, an instinct told her that the jewelry box held the answer to so many questions.
Peering outside the window, Alice saw that her mother was nowhere in sight. The next second, she hurried from her bedroom and into her mother’s.
The ornate silver jewelry box sat on her dresser in plain view, which made Alice wonder why her mother had bothered to shove it under a pillow in the first place. Still, Alice felt the instinct even stronger. It certainly wasn’t a rational feeling, but she just
knew
that her mother had hidden something in this jewelry box that was the missing piece of the puzzle as to why she’d stopped loving her.
Alice paused to listen for any sound downstairs, and hearing none, walked to the dresser. She lifted the box and brought it with her to her mother’s bed. Sitting on the bed, she brought the box onto her lap and opened the lid.
Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out at her. There were two strands of pearls, emerald earrings, gold bangles. Alice sifted her fingers through the contents and found only more jewelry. Yet she was determined not to give up.
She dumped the jewelry onto the bed and exam
ined the bottom of the box. Her heart leapt at the sight of another compartment. Slowly, she lifted it.
Inside, she saw a folded and aged piece of paper, which she carefully withdrew. Though a little voice told her she shouldn’t invade her mother’s privacy, she was about to unfold it to see what it was. But she was suddenly more curious about what she saw below it.
It was a wallet-sized black-and-white picture of a man and a woman. Her mother and father, Alice realized. The picture was taken on the beach with the water behind her parents, who stood in each other’s arms, smiling brightly.
Alice had never seen the picture before, and she lifted it for closer inspection. And realized she was wrong. It wasn’t her mother and father. It was her mother and Uncle Winston.
Uncle Winston?
How could it be her uncle?
Why
would it be her uncle? In case her eyes were playing tricks on her, Alice closed and reopened them. No doubt about it, it was her uncle, not her father.
She was suddenly winded. Possible explanations for the picture whirled around in her brain. But there was only one explanation that consistently leapt out, and it was something she didn’t want to consider.
Even Aunt Sara’s comments that she’d had her suspicions about why Rosa was distant, and that Alice should ask her mother about them, lent more credence to the thought that kept surfacing in Alice’s mind. But if it was true, what did that mean for her father?
Alice heard the door open downstairs and
quickly scrambled to replace the jewelry. In her haste, she forgot to put the picture back in the bottom of the box. As she was about to do just that, she heard the bedroom doorknob turn.
She shot to her feet.
Her mother’s eyes widened as she opened the door and found Alice standing in her bedroom. Her gaze dropped to the bed, and Alice knew her mother had seen the jewelry box. That was fine by her, because she wanted answers. Answers only her mother could give her.
“What are you doing in here?” Rosa asked angrily as she walked into the room.
“What’s this?” Alice extended the picture so she could see it.
“You went through my private things!” She snatched the picture from her hand, then moved to the bed where she retrieved the silver box.
“Why are you and Uncle Winston holding each other like that?” Alice said to her mother’s back. “Like you’re lovers?”
Rosa spun around. “Did you read the letters?”
“No, I didn’t.”
Rosa turned back to the jewelry box and began inspecting it, as though searching to see if anything was missing. Alice walked to the other side of the bed where she could see her mother’s face, not her back. “Were you and Uncle Winston having an affair?”
“Of course I wasn’t having an affair!”
“Then why do you two look like it in the picture?”
Seemingly satisfied that all the contents were in the box, Rosa slammed it shut. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”
“Yes, you do. For once, I think it’s time you tell me why you’ve never supported my dreams, why you’ve made me feel like such an outcast in this family. What did I do that was so wrong?” Alice felt the familiar pain and disillusionment from years ago tighten her chest. “Why couldn’t you love me?”
Her mother’s lips tightened, and Alice stopped breathing as she awaited her mother’s answer.
The phone rang.
“You should get that,” Rosa said. “It’s probably for you.”
“Let it ring.”
Rosa went to the phone beside her bed and picked up the receiver. “Hello? Yes, she’s right here.”
Damn her mother. Even now, could she not give Alice the answers she needed? If she didn’t love her, then it was high time she admitted that so that Alice could give up on that dream altogether.
“It’s for you,” Rosa said, extending the receiver to her.
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know. It’s a man.”
Despite the situation with her mother, Alice’s heart danced.
Marcus.
“I’ll take it in my bedroom.”
Alice hurried out her mother’s bedroom and into her own. When she picked up the receiver, she said, “I got it,” and her mother hung up.
“Hello?” Why did the thought of Marcus calling her make all her nerves dance with excitement?
“Desirée.”
That wasn’t Marcus’s smooth, sexy voice. “Who is this?”
There was a soft chuckle. “You’ve forgotten me already, have you? This is Edmond Minter.”
She’d recognized the voice with the mild British accent before he finished speaking, though she was so surprised he was on the other end of the line that she didn’t know what to say.
“I hope you don’t mind that Connie gave me your number in Chicago.”
Alice had been putting off giving Connie a definite yes or no answer as to whether or not she wanted to accept this new role. The truth was, she didn’t know why she hadn’t said yes immediately, but Connie had no doubt upped the ante by giving Edmond the number to call her directly. It would be harder to say no to him, especially when he was one of the few people in Hollywood Alice truly admired.
“No, I don’t mind,” she told him.
“Have you received a copy of the script for
After the Moon Rises
?”
“Actually, yes. Connie sent it, but I…I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
“Oh.”
“I don’t know if Connie told you, but my mother had a heart attack. My mind hasn’t been on the movie business much.” At least that was true.
“Understandable, dear. I do hope you’ll get the chance to read it soon, and that you’ll like it. You’ll be just perfect for this part, Desirée. Even Ryan Gray is anxious to work with you.”
God, this would be such a fabulous opportunity! “Are you directing?”
“No, I’m merely producing this one. Craig Lewis is directing. If you haven’t worked with him before, you’ll love him.”
Alice had heard nothing but wonderful things about Craig Lewis, and though she’d auditioned for
him once years ago, she’d never had the opportunity to work with him. Now, it seemed as if all the cards were lining up in just the right way to give her a dream opportunity that could help her career skyrocket.
She wondered if Edmond had heard the latest rumors of her drug use. If he had, he certainly wasn’t concerned. But that shouldn’t surprise her. Edmond was a true gem who had made her life in Hollywood more bearable, considering he was genuinely interested in her and her career—not in her body. Which was a relief, since he was pushing sixty. To her, he was a father figure, and they’d remained friends over the years.
“Edmond…you’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Are you sure you still want me for this role?” she asked, almost as if she was trying to talk him out of considering her.
“You don’t think I believe that rubbish, do you?”
“No,” Alice responded after a moment. Her own mother didn’t believe her, yet this man did. “I just wondered…you know, people might think…”
“Wonder no more. All the gossips will soon find something else to occupy their imaginations. Just know that Craig and I both want you for this role. Please read the script and get back to me as soon as you can. Do you have my home number?”
“No.”
“Take it down.” Alice grabbed a pen and paper from the night table and wrote the number Edmond told her. “Please call me soon.”
“I will.”
“And take care.”
“You too. And Edmond, thanks so much for the call.”
“My pleasure.”
When she hung up, Alice curled into the fetal position and lay on her bed for a long while, simply staring at her surroundings. For the life of her, she didn’t know what she wanted. Did she want her career back? Did she want to start over? If she started over, what would she do? She didn’t even have a college degree.
You could continue teaching children how to act.
The voice was so clear, it was almost as if someone had spoken the words aloud.
But she was still confused. If Marcus didn’t love her, if her mother didn’t believe in her, if someone here was trying to ruin her reputation, what sense would it make to stay in Chicago? She may as well head back to Los Angeles as fast as she could.
And if she did, she’d be running again. God, she was sick of running. The last time she’d run away she hadn’t escaped her problems. They’d simply waited for her to return.
She wouldn’t run. Not this time. Not until she finally had some closure with her mother and sister.
Tired of thinking, Alice rolled over. Her eyes strayed to the phone. Oh, she was tempted. Really, really tempted to call him. But she fought the temptation, for what would come of it? Marcus had already admitted to her that he didn’t love her.
With that thought, a whimper escaped her lips. Her stomach coiled painfully. She closed her eyes and willed sleep to come.