Hollywood Prince (Hollywood Royalty 3)
“You can’t let him see that he broke you,” I tell myself and blink away the stinging. “Tonight, you can cry rivers, but right now, you can’t. Do not let him see you emotional.” I pull in, and I force myself not to look for his car. I walk onto the set with my shoulders back, but my head hanging a touch. I step into trailer eight where Sylvia told me to meet her. I knock, and then I hear her shout at me to come in. I walk up the step, and I see her sitting at the table with her papers all in front of her. She takes off her glasses and looks at me. “You look nice.”
“Well, at least I look nice,” I tell her, going to the table and sitting on the couch. “Sylvia . . .”
“Don’t,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t have to say anything. You don’t choose who you fall in love with. It just happens, and there was nothing you could have done differently.”
“I think there are a couple of things I could have done differently.” I take a deep breath. “What time is the meeting?”
“Ryan will be here in thirty minutes, and we have the meeting in forty.” I nod at her. “Let’s start switching things over.”
I nod at her, grabbing my notes and computer. We work side by side until there is a knock on the door, and Ryan comes in. “Morning,” he says and then looks at us. “Are we ready?”
I nod my head at him. “As ready as she will ever be.” I hear Sylvia say, and she leads the way out of the trailer. We walk over to stage three where there is a conference room set up. I look down while we walk there, not wanting to see him, not ready to see him. We stop right in front of the table, and I hear Jeff.
“Hey, guys,” he says, and I look up to see Jeff and then right beside him, my eyes find him. I give myself a second before I look away. My father was right; it’s not as painful as I thought it would be. It’s worse. “Shall we get this meeting going?”
Sylvia walks to the table and sits at the far end with Ryan next to her and finally me. Sylvia took the seat in front of Carter. I don’t know if they did it on purpose, so I can escape fastest or not, but I don’t have time to think about it because Sylvia gets right to it.
“So there has been a change in plans,” she starts, and I see Jeff look over at Carter who sits in his chair the whole time looking at Sylvia. He looks like he hasn’t slept. “From now on, I will be the one working Carter’s case,” she says, and I am looking at Sylvia when I feel Carter turn and look at me. “Erin set up everything already, and the transition should be smooth.”
“No surprise there.” His voice comes out, and it cuts me. What little piece of healing was done is now gone just from the sound of his voice. “She got what she needed from me.”
Ryan now sits up straight. “If you will excuse us.” He pushes back from the table, and I look up at him. “Carter, I need a minute.”
“It’s fine,” I whisper to him, but he doesn’t listen to me and just walks into the other room.
“Should I go with them?” Jeff asks, and Sylvia just shakes her head.
“I don’t think that is necessary.” She looks at me, then at Jeff. “Also, all communication between Carter and Erin will have to go through me. In fact, I don’t think there is any need for him to contact her. If he needs anything, I will have all the answers.”
Jeff nods at her and then pushes away from the table, walking past me and stopping. “They say you hurt the ones you love the most.” I don’t answer him. I just get up and walk away from the table, the whole time breathing slowly, so the tears don’t escape. The more I walk away, the more my heart hurts, and it’s knowing that I won’t be with him that makes it beat faster in my chest. The pain shoots through me, but I don’t stop moving. I grab my purse and make my way to my car and pull away from the stage, the pain deeper and deeper. I push it down. I push it all the way down, and instead of going to the office, I go back to my father’s house.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Carter
I’m not surprised when Jeff calls me on Sunday and tells me that we are summoned for a meeting. The weekend was a blur, and when the car picks me up on Monday morning, I look at the seven empty bottles of Jack on the counter. The only time it was easy to breathe was when I drank. Her face is clear in my head when I’m not drinking, making it hard to move, hard to think, hard to live. I get in the car, putting my glasses on. “Can we stop and get something to eat?” I tell him, laying my head back on the seat. He pulls up at Sonic, and I order the double egg and cheese, the grease soaking up some of the booze from my system. When I walk on set, I go straight to my trailer, but I don’t know why I expect her to be there sitting at the table with a smile on her face.