Page 8 of Claim to Fame

Another shake.

“Did you relapse in your recovery in any way while you were in Boston?” Jennifer asked.

“No.”

It had been six months since her last binge—since closing night ofBridget Jones’ Musicalto be exact—after the intense restriction she’d imposed on herself during the run of the show. Six months of therapy and tiny milestones that put her on more solid footing every day, and yet… It all still felt so tenuous, like she was one misplaced bag of M&Ms away from relapsing into the depths of her eating disorder.

Or one night of casual sex.

But being with Ethan felt different. With him, she didn’t feel out of control like she did in so many other situations. Instead she felt powerful, confident, capable, like somehow being with him didn’t numb the feelings swirling inside her—it amplified them. There was no hiding from Ethan when he looked at her like he could see all the things she didn’t say, and the truth was, she didn’t want to hide from him. But if she was honest with herself, that kind of intensity scared her more than any calorie count.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You deserve to have fun too. Even the sexy naked kind,” Liv said.

“Especially the sexy naked kind,” Jennifer added. “Audiobooks can only keep you warm for so long before you need the real thing, Han.”

Heat crawled up Hannah’s throat, her cheeks burning. “He wanted to see me again. Like for real. Like a date.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem here,” Liv said. “I thought you liked this guy.”

“I do. But we don’t even know each other.”

“I don’t think I’d saythat. You know some things about each other,” Jennifer said. At Hannah’s glare, she continued, “Then get to know each other. That’s what dating is for.”

“It’s too hard. It’s a miracle he hasn’t recognized me. Going to see him this weekend was careless enough as it is. If we’d been seen together… Until this thing with Jackson is over, I need to focus on auditioning and my recovery.”

“That’s what you’ve been saying for months. When are you allowed to focus on being happy?” Liv asked.

“I’ll be happy when I book my next show.”

“Will you?” Jennifer asked.

Hannah picked up her fork, despite the way her stomach gave a warning jolt in response to the mere idea of eating when she was this on edge. Eating was easier than looking too closely at the answer to that question, however.

She cut off a bite of her omelet with the side of her fork and popped it in her mouth before she could think too hard about it, forcing herself to chew, to swallow, to do it again. She refused to be defeated by a breakfast special.Not today, Satan.

“Where does Ethan live?” Liv asked, tapping away distractedly on her phone.

“Why?” Hannah asked.

“If the issue is that you don’t know enough about him, then let’s find out about him. We are millennial women with Instagram accounts. Give me his name and a rough idea of how old he is, and I’ll find him within the hour,” Liv promised.

“I highly doubt Ethan has an Instagram.”

“But someone who knows him does,” Jennifer said, swiping another potato.

“Why don’t you order your own home fries?” Hannah asked.

“I can’t do that. I don’t eat carbs,” Jennifer said around the mouthful of potato.

“Oh, shit,” Liv whispered, her eyes glued to her phone screen.

“What? Did your brother accidentally send his dirty texts to you instead of his wife again?” Jennifer asked.

“Worse.” Liv lowered the phone, setting it on the table and sliding it towards Hannah. “Han…”

“What?” Hannah looked between her friends, her stomach sinking with dread at the concern in Liv’s eyes as she reached for the phone. “What is it?”

There it was onSuperfan’s homepage. Jackson Hayes kissing a woman in a bikini on a beach in Bora Bora. Her fake boyfriend with a tall blonde woman who looked like she hadn’t eaten a potato in a decade.

---