Page 94 of Claim to Fame

She should head back to Ethan’s soon, before it got dark out and she lost her way. She hadn’t walked far, only around the block, but these small town blocks were much larger than anything she’d encountered in the City.

“What are you going to do?” Liv asked through the phone.

Hannah sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t want to fight with him, but I don’t know how this is going to work. I love bringing a show to life. I love that feeling, like electricity, when a show is going well and canfeelit in the air.” She paused, considering a cluster of wildflowers at the edge of the pavement. “But I don’t love having my personal life the subject of public debate. Or photographers thinking they’re entitled to take pictures of me whenever and wherever they want.” She sat on a large rock by the side of the road, suddenly feeling exhausted. “And I am really scared if I go back to performing I’m not going to be able to maintain my recovery.”

“Why?”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes, her nose stinging. “I don’t know if I can do another audition season, Liv. I don’t know if I can stand in a room full of people telling me what’s wrong with me again and again and again in hopes that one of them will like me enough to cast me as the funny fat friend.”

“You’re not the funny fat friend, Hannah. You’re Bridget freaking Jones.”

“That’s one part. One part in an entire industry.” She closed her eyes as the first tear slipped down her cheek. “I’m tired, Liv. And I’m scared. What if I give it up and it’s the wrong decision? What if I wake up in a year and realize I don’t love Ethan as much as I thought? Or what if I go back and I’m still in the same place I’ve been for years, only this time I’ve let the love of my life go, and for what?”

“The love of your life, huh?”

“Maybe.” Hannah sighed and watched the early evening breeze ruffle the leaves on a nearby maple tree. “I’ve wanted to be on Broadway since I was a little girl, but I can’t help feeling like I climbed to the top of the mountain and looked around and there’s nothing there. What if staying on the mountain is just another way to hide?”

The line was quiet enough that Hannah wondered if maybe they’d been disconnected.

“Are you still there?”

“I’m here. I’m always here,” Liv said. “Did I ever tell you about the letter my dad left for me and my brother before he died?”

Hannah dashed away a tear, confused by the subject change. “No.”

“When he got sick, he wrote a letter and left it with my mom. She was supposed to read it to us when the time was right. And apparently that time was my wedding,” she said with a chuckle. “Anyway, he said the things that scare us are the things most worth doing.”

Hannah swallowed a sob.

“Maybe you’re scared because it’s important.”

“Which part—going back to New York or staying here?”

“I can’t answer that for you,” Liv said. “Which one scares you more?”

∞∞∞

The house was quiet when Hannah returned, only Ethan’s truck still in the driveway. He was putting things away in the kitchen when she came in, his back to the front door. He spun around, his eyes wild, at the sound of the door closing. “Jesus, Han.” He set aside the stack of dishes in his hand and crossed the room to her in long strides, cupping her face in his hands as his eyes roved over her. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine.” She could only imagine what he must be seeing—puffy eyes, embarrassingly red cheeks. Hannah was not a cute crier.

“What happened, sweetheart?” His thumbs slid tenderly over her cheeks, soothing the phantom tracks of her tears.

“Nothing happened.” She gripped one of his wrists, sliding her hand up his forearm. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

He exhaled harshly through his nose. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

His hands slid into her hair as they moved closer, almost as though their bodies were magnetized, an invisible force drawing them together as her arms wound around his waist.

“This is all harder than I thought,” he admitted.

Her stomach churned. “This?”

“Being in the press. Having people know about my audiobooks. Talking about us like they know us. How do you do it?”

“I didn’t have a choice.” His arms were strong beneath her palms as she skated her hands up his biceps. “But you do.”

He huffed out a frustrated breath. “We’ve been over this."

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