No, no, no.
“Forget your line, Mels?”
“Fuck you, Anthony.” His taunt snaps me out of my stupor.
“Ahhh, there’s the drama from our little actress.”
“Fuck off, asshole. She’s mine, not ours, and sure as fuck not yours, Fallon.”
The growly way Jase claims me gives me hope. Unfortunately, like I have the script, I know what’s about to happen in the next scene.
“Oh she’s yours, is she?” Fallon crosses his arms. “If that’s true, what’s Melody’s last name?”
The satisfied smirk on his face makes me wonder what I ever did to him to make him act so hateful. This isn’t the guy who would crash my video chats with my brother, who sat in the front row for my shows, who was just as much a brother to me as my Teddy Bear.
No, this version of Anthony Fallon is a stranger.
“Let me give you a hint, Donnelly: Brightly is a stage name.”
“Oooo, Melody has a stage name. What a crime.” Cali says the last sentence with so much sarcasm it practically pools on the floor. If Jase wasn’t already vibrating with anger next to me, I could kiss him for it.
“No, you’re right, Callahan. Having a stage name is not newsworthy. The part that makes this particular revelation fun for me is—”
“Fal…don’t,” I implore.
Please don’t do this.
“No. The fun part is”—he looks at me then turns his full attention on Jase—“her legal last name is…”
He pauses, and I brace for the hit I know is coming.
“Bishop.”
Time freezes.
The curtains close.
The lights turn off.
Everything around me turns to static. With one word, the trajectory of my life is thrown off course.
“Bishop?” Jase asks.
“Yup.” God, how can Fallon get so much glee into one little word?
“As in…”
Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
“Nate Bishop.”
Fuck!
“Jase,” I try to cut in, but they continue.
“You’ve been dating the younger sister of the guy everyone knows you hate.”
Golden-green eyes stare at me like I’m a stranger. My hand sways he drops it so fast.
“Jase?”
He takes a step back, and my heart cracks.
“Jase, I was goi—”
A shake of his head, another step back.
“Jase, please.”
My heart splits in two at the look of betrayal swimming in his hazel eyes.
“Jas—”
He turns on his heel.
No. What are you doing, Jase?
He takes a step, then another.
No, no. Jase, stop.
Another step.
No.
I reach for him, but he avoids my touch.
Four more steps and he’s halfway down the hall.
Please don’t walk away.
He keeps walking, my silent pleas going unanswered.
He hits the metal door at the end of the corridor with so much force the sound echoes like a gong.
He…
He…
He…left me.
Chapter Forty
BROADWAY BABY: Jase please talk to me.
BROADWAY BABY: Please answer the phone.
BROADWAY BABY: I’m sorry.
BROADWAY BABY: I wanted to tell you.
BROADWAY BABY: I was going to tell you.
BROADWAY BABY: Please let me explain.
BROADWAY BABY: I’m sorry. So, so sorry.
BROADWAY BABY: Jase.
BROADWAY BABY: Jase, please.
BROADWAY BABY: *GIF of crying potato*
No matter how many texts I send, he doesn’t answer.
Chapter Forty-One
THE BIG HAMMER: Why didn’t you tell me?
THE BIG HAMMER: How could you not tell me?
THE BIG HAMMER: Was this all a big joke?
THE BIG HAMMER: Did you two have a good laugh about it behind my back?
THE BIG HAMMER: I hate the way I don’t hate you. Not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all.
THE BIG HAMMER: And shit, I hate that you have me quoting 10 Things I Hate About You.
THE BIG HAMMER: FUCK!
THE BIG HAMMER: I love you.
No matter how many texts I compose, I delete them all without hitting send.
Chapter Forty-Two
Tears.
Wine.
Send texts that only get ignored.
More tears.
Rehearsal.
Tears with wine.
Rehearsal.
And—you guessed it—tears.
Chapter Forty-Three
Eat.
Sleep.
Hockey.
Type out text messages to Melody but delete them before sending.
Repeat.
Chapter Forty-Four
BROADWAY BABY: Are you ever going to talk to me again?
I swear I’ve sent more texts that have gone unanswered in the past two weeks than I have in my entire life.
TEDDY: Jase Donnelly, Mels?
Shit! It’s never good if he’s calling me Mels. At least he responded. This is true, but not much has come from the few times Nate has actually done so. Most of the time he quickly shuts down and shuts me out.
Just like Mom and Dad.
BROADWAY BABY: I’m sorry. I don’t know how many more times you need me to say it before you forgive me, but I am. It’s not like I planned for it to happen.
My fingers fly across the screen, desperation bleeding into each tap.
BROADWAY BABY: Please don’t shut me out. You’re the only family I really have. I need you, Nate.
TEDDY BEAR: If that were true, you wouldn’t have been with HIM.
Tears prick the backs of my eyes. I’ve already lost the man I love; I can’t lose my brother too.
BROADWAY BABY: I’m sorry. Please, please, please can we talk?
“How’s the fit?” the show’s costume designer asks after she secures the zipper on the dress, the question finally pulling my attention away from the lack of dancing dots on my phone. Fucking Nate has gone back to ignoring me.
“It’s perfect.” I force myself to respond as I lift my gaze to the full-length mirror in front of me. Not even the sight of me in the iconic white dress synonymous with my character is enough to cheer me up.
For the last two weeks, I’ve merely been existing, my heartbreak over losing Jase so acute all the joy has been sapped from the world.