Текст книги "Take Two"

Автор книги: Laurelin Paige

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-One

It took all of Micah’s strength not to glance back at the woman behind him as he and his mother followed Stu to discuss whatever was apparently too important to keep. And how he’d be able to concentrate on anything Stu said, he had no idea. His mind was all on Maddie.

When he’d first seen her in the foyer, he had to admit, he’d been startled. Maybe even a little irritated. Then he was turned on. How could he not be with her looking like that, all dolled up and sex on heels? Seriously turned on.

And then he felt relieved.

A blanket of serenity that he’d never felt at these sorts of public events fell over him just by knowing she was in the room. After seeing her, his smiles became easier, his laughs a little less fake. Yeah, she’d done that to him.

And when he’d introduced her to Lulu…

Why did his insides feel so warm and soft with their meeting? As though he’d just finished a glass of bourbon, but ten times better. Not at all nerve-racking as he’d expected, but pleasant.

More than pleasant. Perfect.

But leaving Maddie to talk to Stu? That wasn’t easy in the least. That was one of the reasons he had wanted her to stay home. It was too hard to be in the room with her, especially looking so fuckable in her short silver dress and high heels. He wanted to be with her, to never leave her side.

Never?

Maybe he was being dramatic.

Steel up, man. Stop acting so fucking pussy-whipped.

Stu led Lulu and Micah just beyond the theater doors but far enough away from the crowded foyer to speak in private. Micah abandoned his full cup of coffee in a trash can—he’d only ordered it to get himself near Maddie, anyway—and tried to ignore how he felt like a total asshole leaving her alone like that.

This was his job. This was his life. What else could he do?

Micah’s focus returned full force to his manager when Stu clapped a hand on his shoulder, excitement animating his features. “Listen, kid, sorry to bother you with business tonight, but I knew you’d want to hear this immediately. Santini saw that Aleck film you did and wants you for the lead in his next film. No read-through or anything. Just yours if you want it.”

The floor gave out underneath Micah. A Martin Santini film? He’d been dreading the next movie on his calendar—a sappy romantic comedy—but Santini? That was exactly the kind of thing he’d been working toward, where all the years of sacrifice and sweat and solitude had been meant to take him.

He didn’t know what to say—his words fell out jumbled. “Really? Wow! That’s…incredible.”

Lulu’s eyes gleamed with proud tears. “You know what that means, Micah? Santini is almost a guaranteed Oscar nom.”

“I know, Mom. I know.” He was speechless, breathless. He leaned back against the wall of the dark alcove, needing the support. “What’s the movie? I haven’t even seen a script.”

“Epic Western revenge film. I’ll have the script sent to you ASAP. Shit load of fighting sequences. He wants you in New Zealand the minute you finish the romance thing to start training.”

Something in Micah’s chest tightened. “New Zealand?” His romance was being shot in L.A. on a soundstage. And many of the other projects he was looking at were near home as well. Not that he minded going out of the country. New Zealand was just so far from…

He couldn’t think her name. She had nothing to do with this conversation.

“You know Santini,” Stu said. “He loves filming in New Zealand.”

“They have great studios there,” Lulu added, still beaming. “And cheaper than a lot of alternatives.”

Micah nodded, hoping the anxious feeling could be loosened with the motion. Maybe he wouldn’t be gone long. “What’s the production schedule like?”

“Three to four months prep and another four months filming.”

“Right.” Eight fucking months. It was a lifetime. His next project was scheduled to be over in two months. When he left for New Zealand, he’d have been with Maddie for less time than he’d be gone.

If they were staying together, anyway.

He couldn’t shake the cold chill that had settled over him since Stu had said the words New Zealand. He knew this was coming—it shouldn’t have hit him like a ton of bricks. It was just that he hadn’t expected to have to decide about where things were going with Maddie so soon. He didn’t think he’d have to make such a deliberate choice. Because taking the part could effectively end him and Maddie.

And hadn’t he known that would be the outcome all along?

No, they could work it out. If they talked about it, if they made a plan…

He couldn’t think about this right now, not with Stu waiting for an answer on a critical career decision. Not with his mother looking at him with expectant excitement in her eyes. “When do I have to decide?”

Lulu’s eyebrows shot up. “Why do you even have to think about it?”

Stu also looked surprised, but at least he tried to hide it. “He’ll want an answer soon. I can probably buy you a couple of weeks.”

“Micah?”

Micah ignored his mother. “Thanks, Stu, I’d appreciate that.”

“Micah, why do you have to think about it?” Lulu’s surprise had turned to confusion. He’d always been open with her about his plans and projects. She knew how much he admired Santini, how this film could change his entire life. Of course she wouldn’t understand.

And Micah couldn’t explain it. How could he? She’d left her marriage to pursue her career. How would she understand Micah’s hesitation over a woman he’d been seeing for a handful of weeks?

Stu seemed to sense the conversation Micah needed to have with Lulu was personal. “I’ll leave you to discuss this. Just let me know, kid.”

“Thanks again, Stu.”

Stu had barely stepped out of earshot before Lulu was questioning her son again. “Micah, why—”

“I just do.” He ran his hands through his hair, trying to come up with a reasonable excuse to give his mother. “It’s a long time out of the country. And I was looking at that Soderbergh project.”

“Soderbergh is nothing compared to this offer. This is Oscar material, Micah.”

“Soderbergh could be Oscar.” Now he dragged his hand over his face. Maddie. That’s all he could think of. Maddie. How hard it was not to give that as his defense, his every excuse. Maddie, Maddie, Maddie.

Unable to keep her name off his lips, he said, “There’s also Maddie’s film. Her movie is brilliant. And I want to be involved in more than just acting.”

“That’s the great thing about working on investment projects. You give your money and you’re done. You don’t have to be present for it.”

Micah turned to study Lulu, searching for some clue as to how he could explain his conflict. “But I really want to be here to see it picked up. I’m invested in it.” It would help if he thought he could be honest with his mother. If he could have just told her how he felt about the woman in the other room, maybe she’d understand.

“Micah Drew Preston. Are you sleeping with her?” Or maybe she wouldn’t understand. “Is that what this is about?”

He cringed at his mother’s questions. “That’s not what this is about, Mom.” Yes, he was sleeping with Maddie, but that wasn’t what his New Zealand hesitation was about. Not entirely, anyway. What he had with Maddie was so much more. Wasn’t it?

“You were a mess after that Nikki woman. I can’t believe you’d get yourself involved in another situation like that.”

“Maddie is nothing like Nichelle.”

“I’m just so surprised, Micah. I know you’re considered a lady’s man, but I’ve never seen you make career decisions with your Peter.”

“Jesus Christ, Lulu. I am not making any career decisions tonight. I need some time to think about it, that’s all. And, frankly, I’m really uncomfortable talking about this with you.”

Lulu’s face bunched up and he feared she might cry. God, please don’t let her cry. “But you always talk to me about your film projects.”

Great, he’d officially hurt her feelings. “I didn’t mean my projects. I’m not comfortable talking to you about my sex life, Mom.” He put his hands on his mother’s slim shoulders. “Just give me some time to think about it.”

“Okay, okay. I just don’t want to see you throw away all the time and energy you’ve invested in your career. Not over some girl.”

The sympathy he’d felt disappeared at her flippant dismissal of Maddie. “We’re done talking about this.”

“Fine.” She rolled back her shoulders and patted the sides of her hair, composing herself. “Do you have my ticket? I need to use the restroom before the show starts.”

Micah dug in his pocket and found his mother’s ticket.

“I’ll meet you inside.”

He watched his mother follow the path Stu had taken and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. What the fuck now? This wasn’t the time or place for the introspective thinking he needed to do, but he couldn’t help the conflicting thoughts of career and Maddie that mingled in his mind.

Maddie. She was probably waiting for him to reappear. He stepped out of the corridor and glanced to where he had stood with her before at the condiment table by the bar. She wasn’t there, but he sensed her near. He turned and found her pressed against the wall at the theater entrance. He met her eyes and knew she’d heard everything.

Quickly, he replayed the conversation in his mind, imagining how it sounded to her ears. Christ. Some of it probably sounded pretty damn shitty.

He searched her face. She was an open book, a book he didn’t want to read right now—her eyes sad, her posture broken.

He couldn’t talk to her, not now. He set his jaw, and straightened his lips into a firm line, giving nothing away. He left her like that, resumed his role as a personality at a high-profile fundraiser, shaking hands with rich people who had impressive names, and Botox’d foreheads and significant others on their arms.

The serenity Maddie Bauers had given him earlier was gone. In the highly crowded lobby, hundreds of people swarming to his side, he was alone.

Only a few minutes passed before the lights in the lobby flashed, indicating it was time for people to take their seats. Micah hung back until Maddie and the other crew members walked up the stairs to the upper level.

Heather sidled up beside him and slipped her arm in his. “Where’s Lulu?”

“Already inside.”

“Shall we find our box?”

“Sure,” he mumbled. They walked up the stairs to the second level where the box seats were accessed and gave their tickets to the ushers. The rest of the cast from the movie were already seated, and he and Heather sat in the back box seats.

When the lights dimmed he sank into his chair, relieved to have the spotlight off him. Finally, he let himself think. The whole time he’d been with Maddie, he hadn’t let himself imagine this far in his plans with her. He’d hoped he might get over her by now. Stupid, since he’d coveted her since the night he met her. And now he was more into her than ever.

So he could keep seeing her. And so what that he’d be in New Zealand? He could bring her with him. It would be just like Colorado. He might even be able to get her a job on set. He could make it part of his contract.

But he couldn’t just drag her around while he worked. She had her own films to make. Good films. Even if she didn’t yet believe it. And he wanted to be the one who helped her discover herself.

But he couldn’t turn down the Santini opportunity. It would be ridiculous to give up years of sweat, blood and tears for a woman he’d been with for less than three weeks. He’d been dreaming about an Oscar nom since he was sixteen. And even without the Oscar lure, Micah admired Santini more than most directors in the biz. Besides, it wasn’t only his dream—Lulu would be so proud.

That left trying to work out a relationship with Maddie over miles and between shoots. The thought of being away from her like that killed him, yet the alternative was not being with her at all, so it would have to do.

Except, it was the miles and time apart that destroyed all the couples he’d known in Hollywood. Jealousy crept in. The press took advantage. Too much distance, too many rumors, too impossible to manage. It always ended in heartache.

There had to be some way to sort it out. Some way to be able to choose Maddie and his career. He closed his eyes and tried to come up with a solution to bridge the two.

But with his eyes closed, he only saw Maddie.

And when he opened his eyes and saw Joss Beaumont onstage and clips from his movies playing on the projector behind him, all he thought about was how much he loved making good movies.

He had to get out of there.

Without telling anyone where he was going, he wandered out to the balcony lobby in search of a drink, but found the bar had been left unattended. He contemplated reaching over the counter and making his own drink—what would they do to him? He was Micah Preston, one of the stars of the evening. They should be falling at his feet to please him.

Those were bitter self-absorbed thoughts and he knew it.

Instead, he leaned against the counter and scanned the lobby.

Then he saw her. Maddie. She sat alone on a bench at the other end of the lobby, and even at that distance, he knew she was crying. Her body shuddered with each wave of sobs.

For half a second he wondered why she was so upset, wanted to run to her and fix it. Then he realized with certainty that it was him.

Fuck. It broke him to see her like that. What was it that had pushed her to this place? The idea of being separated from him? Or was she finally understanding the impossibility of their relationship?

Or had it been his mother’s callous behavior? Because that was what had hurt Micah the most.

If he had to make a guess, he’d say it was Lulu’s comments that had probably stung Maddie most as well. He’d seen how Maddie had wanted to connect with Lulu. Funny how he’d wanted that too.

He wanted to make it better, but he felt helpless. He didn’t have an answer to their situation, didn’t have words to take their pain away. Besides, if he went to her now, and she cried like that in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to hang on. He’d give everything up for her right on the spot. And that wasn’t the answer.

He had to reach out, though, had to tell her not to give up on them. He sent her a text. Counting the seconds til I have you in my arms.

It was several minutes before she dug in her purse, seemingly looking for a tissue, and opened her phone. He watched her read his message, a small smile crossing her lips, then she typed her reply.

You shouldn’t text in the theater. It’s rude.

Ah, sweet Maddie. Crying her eyes out in the lobby and she wasn’t letting on at all. He hated that he was glad. Wished she could be honest with him. Wished he wanted her to be honest with him. Wished he wanted to be honest with her.

He sent her a text that matched the tone of hers. Neither should you.

I’m not in the theater.

Neither am I. He hoped she’d look for him now.

She did.

She stood and crossed to the railing to look down on the lobby below her. Then she peered across the lobby on their level and their eyes met. His heart skipped a beat. She was so beautiful. Even tear stained and mascara streaked she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

He took a deep breath and walked to her.

“Congratulations on the Santini film,” she said as he neared her.

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t accepted yet.”

“You will.”

This was good. She’d opened the door for him to agree. He could just say it and that would be that. They could skip the more serious aspects of his conversation with Stu and his mother. He could take the out she was giving him so freely. It would be so easy…

She leaned on the railing next to him, close enough for him to touch her, and he did, reaching a finger under her eye to wipe at her mussed makeup. “What if I don’t want it?”

He met her eyes, tumbling into them as he always did when she gazed at him so trusting and soul-piercing. “You do.”

Ah, she knew he wanted that role. Of course she knew. She saw him. Always. “I do.”

Her breath hitched as he put a hand around her waist and swiftly pulled her to him. “I want you too,” he whispered, his nose circling hers.

“I know.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He cupped her face and kissed her lips, sweetly and softly. She tasted of tears and makeup and something else—sorrow or heartache, maybe. He didn’t want to taste that on her mouth, wanted to take her away from all his bullshit. Wanted to escape with her. “Let’s get out of here?”

“You can’t abandon your mother, silly.” She smoothed his black silk tie, and he wished she was removing it instead.

“Then let’s find some place more private.”

She glanced around, and he followed her gaze. There was an usher behind them and a woman leaving the restroom.

“There’s too many eyes here.”

Yes, too many eyes. Eyes that could make their moment a scandal in a minute. They shouldn’t even be holding each other like this in public, not if he wanted to protect her from that. Still he couldn’t let her go.

After they’d held each other for much too long, she pulled away. “You should get back. You’ll be missed.”

In her words, he felt the chains that bound him, the constant monitor of the public that he wore like shackles. “Yes.”

She stepped to leave him, but her hand lingered in his, and he pulled her back to him, not wanting to let go. Ever. “Maddie, I—”

She searched his face and he almost finished his sentence, told her how he felt about her. But saying those words, there would be no going back from that. That would be his decision and he just…couldn’t.

“Kiss me again,” he said instead.

She delivered a light kiss. But he seized her lips with his own, his tongue possessing her with demanding need, claiming not only her mouth but her soul. With his kiss, he marked her as his, reserved her for a future that he wasn’t able to give her. Yet.

When he could bear to break free, he leaned his forehead against hers, his chest rising and falling in her rhythm. “Maddie, I’m glad you’re here.”

Lame. He had given her nothing tangible, nothing that told her how he felt, no hint that he was confused about her—that he wanted what they had to become something more. The only words he had for her were, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Totally lame.

He vowed he’d give her a clue. And while he sat in his box seat, pretending to watch the rest of Beaumont’s interview, he made his plans.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Maddie twisted in her seat belt so she could lean against the backrest and watch Micah as he maneuvered the rental car. She had never seen him drive. Even on the rare occasions that they shared a call time, she always rode up with the crew or Fudge, maintaining the secrecy of their affair.

He enjoyed driving. She could tell. His body relaxed behind the wheel and he wore a silly boyish expression on his face as he jammed to the music coming from his iPod over the car’s speakers. She liked seeing him this way.

She liked seeing him period.

She smiled, recalling a conversation from a few nights before. They had gone for drinks and pool with the crew, and afterward as they walked down the hall of his hotel, buzzed from beer and the company of friends, Micah had taken her hand and said, “Is this what normal people do? Come home every night and be happy?”

And for a minute she believed that they could be normal people.

But that was before the Joss Beaumont evening. Before the conversation she’d overheard between Stu, Lulu and Micah. She’d been so thrilled for Micah the minute she heard he’d been offered such a coveted role as the lead in a Santini film. Then, when Stu said that Micah would have to be in New Zealand for the better part of a year, she felt crushed. Absolutely and completely crushed.

How had she let herself forget that was how the business worked? Films took actors and crew all over the world—to different parts of the world. They’d be separated. Of course they would be.

And then Lulu had encouraged Micah to take the part, as she should, and Maddie agreed with his mother’s stance. But the exchange still hurt. A lot. Especially when Micah was unwilling to tell his mother that his hesitations revolved around the way he felt for Maddie. If he couldn’t tell Lulu, if he couldn’t admit it even to himself, how could they have any hope of making a real go of it? If they had any chance of surviving long periods of time apart, they’d have to be strong enough to declare their feelings openly. At the very least, declare them to each other.

Micah glanced at her from the driver’s seat, interrupting her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”

“Your sad choice of music,” she answered, steering clear of the topic they’d avoided the three days since the Joss Beaumont night. Not that they’d ever talked about a future, but now their avoidance of it was heavy and glaring at the periphery of every moment together.

He grinned. “Hard rock’s no good?”

“No good at all. In fact, it’s seriously making me reconsider our relationship.” Inwardly she cringed at the word relationship, hoping it didn’t sound like she was putting pressure on Micah to discuss their situation. With less than one week left of production, though, she should be putting pressure on him. Eventually they would have to talk about it. She knew she should bring it up, but every time she had the chance, she pushed it off, not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Fine,” Micah said, turning off the music. “Let’s talk instead.”

“Okay.” Now. Talk about it now. “What do you want to talk about?” God, she was a chicken.

“I don’t know. Uh, how’s your movie going?”

Maddie frowned. That was an odd question. He was with her every time she worked on it, and he usually watched and gave her feedback whenever she completed a section. He’d viewed everything she had done so far with his mother two days before. Maddie had backed out of their breakfast date at the last minute. She didn’t think she could spend another occasion pretending she wasn’t head over heels for Micah, especially not one so intimate.

“I haven’t done anything since the last time you saw it. Why?”

“I just love the theme of the movie. And so did Lulu, I know I told you that already. Freedom through flying. It’s really good.”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. He had told her Lulu’d been very impressed, and Maddie had been proud of herself for it. But every time she thought of Lulu and her movie in the same sentence, she recalled Lulu’s comparison of Maddie to Micah’s ex. And she couldn’t bear that anyone might think she was using Micah for his film connections.

But all of those thoughts were miles off from whatever Micah was talking about now. She just couldn’t quite follow his direction yet.

“And how about heights? Do you have a fear of heights?”

“No,” she answered tentatively. “Do you?”

“Nope. Not at all.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why are you being so weird?”

“Weird? I’m not being weird. I just realized I didn’t know if you were afraid of heights or not. You know. Standard get-to-know-you question. I really should have already known this.”

“Uh-huh.” Maddie didn’t believe him. He was up to something.

“Do you have anything you’d like to know about me?”

She’d learned a lot about Micah in the last few weeks—things she never gleaned about him from the countless interviews she’d watched and read over the years—but she knew there was still more to discover. Everything. She wanted to know everything about him.

Like, for example, what would happen with them after the shoot ended on Friday? And where the heck was he taking her?

But she didn’t ask those questions. He’d told her that today was a surprise, had woken her at four in the morning on their day off, and told her to dress warm. He refused to say anything about it. After twenty minutes of probing, she’d dropped it.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t bring herself to steer the conversation to their relationship—she didn’t want to ruin his carefully planned surprise.

“Let’s see.” She searched for a safe but meaningful query. “Oh, I know. Did you always want to be an actor?”

“Seriously?” He turned off the main road they’d been following onto a smaller windy road. “That’s what you want to know? You can find that out from a good Google search.”

“In every interviews I’ve read you’ve said ‘yes’.”

“There you go,” he said, throwing his arm out dramatically.

“But I’ve always sensed you were hiding something.”

He peered at her. “How do you do that? How do you know me so well?”

Because we’re meant to be together. She shrugged.

“No. I didn’t always want to be an actor.” He looked at her as if gauging her reaction. “My mom was an actress so she got me acting in commercials when I was about thirteen. And I hated it. We didn’t live in the film industry part of the city and no one in my school was into anything artsy. Kids picked on me, called me a fag, beat me up on a regular basis. In fact, that’s how I met Fudge. He stepped up for me and has been protecting me ever since.”

Wow. She had no idea.

“Do you know how he got his nickname?”

She shook her head.

“Because he used to scare kids so bad, they’d fudge their pants.”

She giggled.

“Anyway. Then I turned sixteen. My high school was putting on David and Lisa. I didn’t really want to do it, but my girlfriend—”

“Girlfriend?”

He ignored her. “Thought it would be super sexy if I was in it. So I tried out and I got the part of David.”

“Which is a great part. Definitely super sexy.”

“Yes, it is.” He slid his free hand over to grab hers. “But on top of that, my high school theater director was amazing. She taught us more than just memorizing lines and blocking. She taught us process, how to make choices in acting, how to create a character internally and externally. I fell in love.”

“I’m assuming you fell in love with the acting, not the girlfriend.” Not that she was jealous of a high school sweetheart. Not in the least.

“Totally the acting. I broke up with the girlfriend before the show even went up.”

“Awesome.” She grinned.

“I started taking classes outside of school—speech, movement, acting for the camera. I got a personal coach. Then an agent. Then I started doing indies, which I loved. Then I got Stu.”

“And the rest is history.”

“I suppose so.”

He was silent for several seconds. The morning light brightened, the sun just coming over the edge of the horizon. She let go of his hand and rummaged through her purse until she found her sunglasses.

When Micah spoke again, his voice was low and serious. “That breakup was because of the show, actually. Even back then, acting interfered with my relationship.”

“With your teenage girlfriend? How so?” She didn’t like what he was hinting at and was grateful for the dark of her glasses so he wouldn’t see the glare in her eyes.

“We broke up because she was jealous of my acting. She said I spent too much time away from her. We fought and fought about it. It was awful.”

Maddie cocked her head to look at Micah’s profile. Was this the reason he was so convinced he couldn’t have a girlfriend now? Because of a silly breakup when he was a kid? It was a ridiculous idea, but a bubble of hope began forming in her chest. “But you were in high school. Kids are selfish and self-centered. Most teenage relationships end for those sorts of reasons with or without acting involved.” Surely he could see that.

“It’s not just because of that girlfriend. There were others after. And then there’s my parents.”

“Your parents?” She was taken aback. What did his parents have to do with anything?

“All my life my mother tried to be an actress and it always put a strain on my parents’ marriage. When I was twelve, she realized that all the compromises she’d made to be a wife and mother had kept her from being as successful as she’d dreamed of being as an actress. So she left my dad.”

“Ouch.” The bubble of hope burst as pieces of the puzzle were beginning to make sense. Lulu had chosen career over family. No wonder she was so eager for Micah to do the same.

“It destroyed my dad. He loved her so completely. He couldn’t understand why Lulu had to give up on their marriage. I didn’t understand either until later.” He paused and gave Maddie a quick side glance. “Now I understand completely.”

Her body tensed, but before she overreacted, she needed clarification. “Are you saying you still have no faith in Hollywood relationships?”

“I’ve never said any differently.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. All the time they’d spent together, she’d thought it meant something. And now he was saying it didn’t change anything. “Then what are we doing, Micah?” Her voice was choked. “We said no preconceived notions about where we were going, but clearly you’ve already decided we’re doomed. So was I just something to fill your time?”

“No! Of course not, baby.” He took one hand off the wheel and ran it through his hair. “When we take one day at a time, yeah, it seems possible. But long term? I just…I still haven’t seen any evidence to change my mind.”

She closed her eyes and swallowed, stemming the pain before it could overwhelm her. Didn’t he realize how much his words hurt? Or was that his intent? Was he breaking up with her?

No, he couldn’t be. Or, if he was, she wouldn’t let him without a fight. She opened her eyes again and she slid her glasses on top of her head, turning to face him. “There are people who make it work, Micah. Successful people. Look at Angel and Brett. Didn’t Roberta Jules marry her cameraman? They’ve been together for ages.”

“But Angel and Brett do a whole lot fewer movies than they used to. And Roberta practically retired.”

“They chose to scale back.”

“Exactly. They chose their relationships over their careers.” Micah’s knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel. “Everything I say and do, Maddie, is a choice between my career or not my career. From deciding to take a shoot in another country to answering a question in an interview to sending a tweet on Twitter to whether or not I send flowers for Valentine’s Day.”

“If you send flowers to a woman, your career will be affected? Come on, Micah. That’s dramatic.” She didn’t even bother to hide her eye roll, she was so annoyed.

His eyes narrowed and she could feel his frustration rising, fueling her own. “It’s reality. If sending those flowers initiates a scandal, the director on the next film I want might say he doesn’t want to deal with that type of drama.”