“But you really don’t think it’s bad luck?” Harriet asked.
I shook my head before swallowing.
“No,” I said. “It was just an accident.”
Harriet didn’t look convinced, gnawing on the edge of her nail. I supposed it was better that she was distracted by the possibility of bad luck—always a fear in the theatre—rather than paying too much attention to me. I’d checked my neck for any hickeys—thankfully Cal and I were not kids anymore—but I was still half convinced that if Harriet looked at me carefully enough, she’d figure out what had happened last night.
And then she’d kill me.
I hated lying to her. Hated keeping things from her. And this was all just too much déjà vu for it not to end as poorly as it had last time.
“I can’t believe it’s almost here,” Harriet said.
We were starting previews next week. I tried not to think about it too much. Tried not to think about fulfilling a lifelong dream and possibly failing miserably at it. Because nothing on Broadway was guaranteed. Reviews could make or break a show. We could open—and then close the following month. The following week. The next day.
It happened.
“The show is great,” I said.
“Since when does that matter?” Harriet asked.
“Fair,” I said.
For the first time I noticed how fucked-up Harriet’s nails were. It looked as though she’d been chewing on them—and around them—nonstop. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen them all red and raw like this.
“Hey,” I said. “It’s going to be fine.”
She paused, her pinkie halfway to her mouth. I lifted my eyebrows, and she sheepishly lowered her hand.
“I know,” she said. “I’m trying not to freak out.”
“We’re all freaking out,” I said. “We’re about to be on Broadway. It’s a big fucking deal.”
Harriet nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I wasn’t there for the accident,” she said. “I’ve been going to therapy three times a week for the past month.”
“That’s smart,” I said.
Why couldn’t I have done that? Upped my therapy visits instead of, I don’t know, sleeping with my director.
“Is it?” Harriet extended her hands, which were trembling. “I’m still freaking out.”
I put my hands on top of hers. “It’s okay,” I said. “This is a totally normal reaction to an extremely exciting—and terrifying—series of events.”
Harriet took a few deep breaths, and I could feel her hands begin to steady.
“What about Cal?” she asked.
I tensed. “What about him?”
“He’s not freaking out, is he?” Harriet asked. “Or is it better if he is freaking out? Because if it’s normal, then he should be freaking out, right?”
She put her head down on the table.
“It doesn’t seem like anything gets to him.” Harriet’s voice was muffled.
I remembered his own trembling hands against my face, the desperation of his kiss, the worry in his eyes.
“He has his own way of coping,” I said. “But he’s freaking out. In the way you want your director to be freaking out—a normal, healthy amount.”
Harriet lifted her head and took several deep breaths.
What will happen if I tell her? She’s my best friend. She’ll understand.
“I’ve been such a jerk,” she said.
“What?”
“In Rhode Island,” she said. “Accusing you of sleeping with him. Or wanting to sleep with him or vice versa.”
“Uh,” I said, “thank you?”
I didn’t like where this was going.
Harriet drank some more coffee, which was most certainly cold by now.
“I was just so stressed,” she said. “And jealous, honestly.”
“Jealous?”
She nodded. “You were getting all the attention in the trades.”
I’d suspected that had been the root of it, but being right about that didn’t make me feel any better.
“The trades are stupid,” I said. “It’s your show. It wouldn’t exist without you.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s just hard sometimes.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
“I should have talked to you about it,” Harriet said. “Instead of being ridiculous and acting like Cal’s nice deed was some nefarious plot to get in your pants.”
I didn’t say anything. Harriet burst out laughing as if something extremely hilarious had just occurred to her.
“I mean, can you imagine?” she asked. “After everything you and Cal have been through? You both barely got through rehearsals in one piece and all of a sudden I’m worried about you sleeping together? I should have been more concerned that one of you would murder the other and try to get my help hiding the body.”
“Ha,” I said.
It was not funny at all.
Harriet put her head in her hands. “This production has made me nuts,” she said. “I can’t promise I’ll be normal after opening night, but I’m hoping the fever lifts.”
“You’re fine,” I said. “You’re great.”
Harriet gave me a fond smile.
“You’re amazing, Kathleen,” she said. “What would I do without you?”
“Probably chew your nails less,” I said.
My stomach churned with guilt.
“I’m so glad we’re in this together,” Harriet said.
“Me too,” I said.
CHAPTER 33
“What the fuck did you do?” Harriet asked me the moment I came offstage.
“I…I don’t know,” I said.
I felt like I’d been hit by a bus. Somehow, I was standing and then I was sitting on an apple box while Ryan and the rest of CrushZone started their set.
“You said yes?” Harriet all but shrieked.
I looked down at my hands. There was a giant fucking ring on one of my fingers so apparently…I had—
“Oh my god,” I said. “Oh my god.”