Page 67 of Sidelined By Love

“Oh, Zo—I’m so sorry. There will be other parts.”

My bottom lip begins to quiver, and I bite into it. Hard. Taking a deep and noisy breath through my nose, I shake my head. “No. My agent dropped me.”

“What?” Grant nearly explodes, pushing me off my seat on his lap and jumping up. He stomps across the old hardwood floor, eating up the distance to the far wall in four quick steps. When he turns, his eyes are wild. “Why would she—how could she—”

“I’m too much drama,” I manage without a quiver in my voice.Way to hold it together, Zoe.

“That’s ridiculous.” He stabs his hand through his hair. “You’re too talented to sit on the bench.”

“Yeah, well . . . apparently I’m also a production risk. One no one is willing to take.” I pull my knees up to my chin and wrap my arms around my shins. “And here I thought I was going to show them I was already putting in the work for the role.”

“You have been. You’re getting . . . better.”

I chuckle dryly. We both know I didn’t have anywhere to go but up. And I’m still not great. But at least I can throw a ten-yard pass now.

Of course, I wouldn’t be anywhere without Grant’s help. But I’ve been showing up. Putting in the work.

But someone in some office in Santa Monica or Burbank or Paducah has decided I’m no more than the headlines they so want to believe. Maybe I’ll never be more than that.

My eyes still trained on the top of my knees, I sigh. “I don’t know what I was thinking coming here. They’re still going to believe whatever they want to. This was all such a waste.”

“Seriously?” I look up just in time to catch a flash of fire in his eyes.

“Well, I mean . . .” Yeah.

I don’t know what he wants me to say though. Because there’s no other word for it. He’s wasted his time on me, trying to teach me something that I’ll never get to use. All this work. All this time.

It hasn’t made a difference.

His lips pinch together in a thin line, and a muscle in his jaw jumps. The weight of his gaze makes me shiver, and I hug my legs even tighter.

“You’re kidding, right, Zoe? Because this . . .” He waves a finger back and forth between us. “This sure doesn’t feel like a waste to me.”

Maybe it’s the burning acid in the pit of my stomach or Cyndi’s voice on repeat in my mind, but suddenly I’m spitting out words—and even I don’t know if they’re lies. “Come on. This was never going to work out. It couldn’t ever be anything real. I’m a mess, and I’m just going to drag you down with me.”

As soon as they hit the air, I know they’re a twisted version of reality—half-truths and partial lies.

Because I can’t protect him from the tabloids. I can’t protect him from my dad’s rage. I can’t protect him from nasty stories that will only make his life hard. I’m basically exactly like his ex—a distraction he doesn’t need.

Oh, I wish I wasn’t. I wish I could be everything he needs. That being with me would only ever bring rainbows and sunshine. That my life would be free of drama. That I could be a stay-at-home wife who makes him breakfast and sends him off to work every morning with a sweet kiss and a warm hug.

But that’s not me.

And it’s not fair to him for me to pretend otherwise.

He scrubs his hand down his face and over the chin I’m certain he shaved just for me. What I’ve said has lost me any chance to enjoy it tonight.

From my spot on the couch, curled up as small as I can get, I risk another push. “My dad would hate it if we were together.”

“I don’t care.” Raking a hand through his hair, he sighs, his gaze falling somewhere in the vicinity of his shoes. “I thought you wanted this, too.”

I do. So much.

I want to see what we can be. What our life together could look like. How many dogs we can walk and how often we can make each other laugh. I want to hike the Incline—actually, no. I don’t want to do that again, ever. But I want to meet him for pancakes after he hikes it.

But maybe Cyndi is right. The truth is immaterial. The truth is only what I can make someone else believe—what I can make Grant believe.

“I’m really sorry.” Taking a stabilizing breath, I whisper, “I let it get out of hand. I should have . . . I wasn’t being fair to you. I’m really sorry you wasted your time on me. But I’d like for us to be friends.”

---