“Dayne! Dayne Matthews, over here!” The shouts came from every direction, from both sides of the roped-off carpet.
Like a politician, Dayne held up his hand and grinned in one direction, then in another. For an instant, he wondered what he might be doing right now if he’d been raised in Bloomington, if he’d studied theater at the University of Indiana and fallen in love with Katy Hart. Middle of March . . . Saturday night? He’d probably be taking Katy out to dinner and maybe hanging out with the Baxters. Instead here he was, caught between a thousand flashing lights, dead center in a place where everyone loved him and no one—not even Kelly Parker—really knew him.
He stopped and signed a few autographs, first on one side, then on the other. He cared about the people who would come out on a chilly night just to wave hello. These were the people who made up his fan base, the ones who would shell out ten bucks for a movie when it might be all they could afford for a week’s worth of entertainment. In many ways they had made him who he was, and he appreciated them.
It wasn’t their fault, the prison he sometimes felt he was in. They didn’t understand, didn’t realize the life they’d created for him.
“Hi!” He waved to a little girl balanced on the shoulders of a man who looked like her father. Dayne turned a few feet. “Hello!”
He took his time, waving and smiling and signing scraps of paper and baseball caps and T-shirts. Not for fifteen minutes did he finally make his way through the double doors into the private party area. Every sort of delicacy had been catered in for the event—part of the push to convince the media that Dream On would definitely be one of the smash hits of the year.
Kelly and Hawk and a handful of film editors and assistant directors were standing by the punch bowl laughing. Dayne kept his pace slow, watching Kelly. As his eyes made their way down to her waist, he stopped. She was six months pregnant. Wasn’t that what she’d told him? No matter what sort of great condition she was in she should be showing some kind of bump, right?
So why was her stomach so flat?
People were milling around Dayne, bidding him hello, and engaging him in a few minutes’ conversation here and there, but he couldn’t keep his eyes off Kelly. Six months pregnant? Maybe her math was off. Or maybe she’d hired a personal trainer, someone to help get her abs in rock-hard shape now—before the baby came. Also, though her figure was stunning, she didn’t look radiant. Her face was paler than usual, and her eyes looked sunken—as if maybe she’d been sick.
Dayne turned his back to Kelly and answered a question from one of the select members of the media invited to the party. Yes, that had to be it. Morning sickness. No wonder she hadn’t called. Between the sickness and the fact that things hadn’t worked out between them the first time, of course Kelly was confused.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, but she still had her attention elsewhere. She had to know he was here, but she hadn’t even looked in his direction. And though she and Hawk were making the rounds separately, talking to other people and playing the part of the genial cast mate, Dayne caught Hawk drifting back to Kelly every few minutes. They would exchange a few quiet words and a knowing touch to the elbow or shoulder, and then Hawk would be on his way again.
Dayne was still watching her when Mitch Henry approached him, his whole face taken up with a grin. “I heard the news!”
Dayne’s heart skipped a beat. Mitch Henry knew about Kelly’s pregnancy? He felt the blood leave his face. “I . . . I, uh . . .” What should he say? No one knew yet, so how come Mitch was suddenly beaming with—?
“You heard it, right? We picked up another hundred theaters!”
“Oh.” Dayne laughed, and his heart slid back into a regular rhythm. “Right. That.”
Mitch crossed his arms and studied him. “You doing okay, Matthews? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m great . . . fine.” He turned on the smile. “How about you? Working on another film?”
Mitch took a step closer and dropped his voice. “You’re not fine. I know you better than that.”
Dayne allowed a nervous chuckle. “Ah, Mitch.” He held his hands out to the sides. “You got me; I didn’t eat my Wheaties this morning.”
“You know what I wish?” his director asked. “I wish I knew whether it was Kelly Parker—” his eyes tried to find a deeper place in Dayne—“or Katy Hart who was making you look like this.”
Dayne felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. “Well . . .” He inhaled sharply but played it off, not letting Mitch see more than his smile. “You remembered her name.”
“Of course I remembered.” Mitch was holding a plate of food. He took a cracker, scooped up a mound of caviar, slipped it into his mouth, and chewed a few times. “She was brilliant on camera, Matthews. Every week I’m tempted to call her, just to get her in one of my films.”
“Really.” For some reason the idea bothered Dayne. Katy had been right to turn down the part in Dream On. The fame and spotlight would’ve changed her life—changed her, even. She was better off in Bloomington, where the simplicity of her charm and beauty couldn’t be touched.
Mitch picked up another cracker and pointed it at Dayne. “One of these days I just might do it. I might make the call.” He cocked his head, as if once again he was trying to see the feelings Dayne was hiding from him. “Maybe if she were a part of this world, the two of you wouldn’t have such a hard time figuring it out.”
Dayne was listening more intently than he let on. He snatched a carrot from Mitch’s plate and willed a teasing look into his eyes. “Figuring what out?”
Mitch frowned at Kelly and then shot a whisper at Dayne. “That it was never Kelly. It was Katy Hart.” He glanced over one shoulder and then the other. “And that the two of you are crazy about each other.”
“Nah.” His answer was fast, but it sounded forced even to him. “Katy’s old news.”
“Very well.” The director slowly stroked his chin. “Can I make one observation?”
“Okay.” Dayne was uncomfortable with the subject. Normally he was better at hiding his feelings, but Mitch was spot-on here. Still he had no choice but to make light of everything the director was saying. He grinned. “I’ll humor you.”
Mitch glanced at Kelly again. When his eyes found Dayne’s there was a knowing there. “You never looked at Kelly the way you looked at Katy.” He lowered his plate of food. “No matter what I tried on the set, I couldn’t match it, couldn’t find the look I caught on a simple audition tape when I had Katy Hart in the studio.”
Then Mitch really did know. Dayne kept the grin, but the director’s words cut him deep. “All right. I guess, thanks for that.” He nodded to the punch. “All this talking’s made me thirsty. Catch you later.” He took a few steps in Kelly’s direction, but he pointed back at his director. “You need to tell me about your current film.”
Mitch Henry smiled. Then he turned to mingle with a group of minor-role players, excited young actors gathered around the dessert table.
Dayne wiped the side of his hand across his brow. Was he that easy to read? He was an actor after all. If he couldn’t hide his feelings any better than that, how could he convince Kelly he wanted to make another go at it?
How could he convince himself?
He stared at her, ten yards away. Kelly Parker. When had things between them gotten so strained? And how would he set them in the right direction here, now? He came up along her right side and blended into the conversation she was having with the movie’s producer.
The man was rattling off snippets from recent reviews and going on about financial projections for the film. “It’s going to be huge, I tell you.” He nodded at Dayne. “In no small part because of how both of you played the screen.” With cultured practice he leaned in and kissed each of Kelly’s cheeks. “I’ll let you two visit.” He shook Dayne’s hand. “Good to see you.”
“You too, sir.” Dayne didn’t have a casual relationship with the producer. The man was Hollywood royalty, a
serious player in the moviemaking industry, a producer with a golden touch for turning movies into megahits. Dayne’s agent had long since coached him to handle the man with great respect.
When he was gone, Dayne turned to Kelly and touched her hand. “Hi.” They were alone, though not for long at a premiere party like this one. For all the frustration she’d caused him since that phone call in January, he was happy to see her. She had been his friend first, and maybe friendship would allow them a bridge to whatever came next. “How are you?”
“Good.” She gave him a shy look. “I thought you were avoiding me.”
“No.” He studied her. “I was waiting. I didn’t want to rush you.”
“Oh.” She shifted her eyes and looked at something off to the side.
He followed her gaze, and there was Hawk. He turned away as soon as he saw Dayne. It wasn’t the time to talk about whatever was going on. Dayne looked back at Kelly’s face. “Can we talk? Later?”
“Dayne . . .” She took hold of his hands and made the slightest shake of her head. “I have plans.”
Plans? He steadied himself. “With someone else?” He found his smile, but he wanted to yell at her. “You told me to wait for the premiere. That you needed to figure things out and we could talk tonight.” He ran his thumbs along the palms of her hands. Anyone watching would’ve assumed they were still a couple the way they’d been during the filming of Dream On.
Kelly seemed resigned at Dayne’s reminder. She nodded toward a side door. “There’s a private patio out there. We still have half an hour before the movie.”
This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to watch the film and then find somewhere to talk. Two people couldn’t make plans for a baby and a lifetime of sharing a parenting role in half an hour. But maybe he needed to hear what she had to say now. Then they could figure out how the rest of the evening would go. He glanced at the door. “Give me half an hour after the movie, during the party. Before your plans.”
She bit her lip, and for a single instant she looked across the room at Hawk. “Okay. Fine.”
Soon the crowd gathered for the movie. For Dayne it passed in a blur. He sat with Mitch Henry, and when it came to the scenes in Bloomington, he felt a catch in his heart. If there were a way through the screen, through the film and into that town he’d be there in a minute. The talk with Kelly wasn’t going to be good—he could already feel her pulling away. Whatever the future held it didn’t look promising.
The producer was right about the movie. It was fantastic, upbeat and funny, emotional and sensitive. Women across the country would love it. Dayne had already seen most of it in the editing room, but watching it on the big screen at the premiere was always a pinnacle moment.
When it was over, the party in the lobby area changed. A pop rock band had been brought in to entertain, and the crowd seemed to swell. Dayne watched Kelly, watched her do what she’d been doing earlier—making the rounds and returning to Hawk every ten minutes or so.
After two hours of celebrating, Kelly found Dayne. She tried to smile, but her look was pained. “Can you talk?”
Dayne pushed back his chair. “Absolutely.” He stood and nodded to the other people at his table. They suspected nothing. Most of them were three drinks into the night and wouldn’t even notice his absence.
He followed Kelly through the crowd. Moving like two people used to having every eye in the room on them, she led him toward the patio door, occasionally giving him a demure smile and nodding along the way to assistant directors and editors and the crew involved in making the film. The lights were dimmed, and everyone was busy celebrating. No one seemed to think anything of the two of them heading off together.
At the door she turned to him. “The patio should be open, even though it’s cold out.” Kelly’s words were clipped, nervous sounding.
“Okay.” Dayne reached out and took Kelly’s hand. He was glad to have privacy from the photographers and media members and especially from Hawk Daniels.
Out on the patio, Dayne watched Kelly’s posture change, watched her exhale hard and walk across the cement to the wrought-iron railing surrounding an old oak tree. She leaned on it and hung her head. “Maybe we should talk later. After the party.”
“I thought you had plans.” Dayne came closer. Why wouldn’t she look at him? “Isn’t that what you said?”
“I do.” She uttered a quiet, frustrated cry, and the smell of alcohol mingled with her breath. She kept her gaze downward. “I don’t know.”
He wanted to shout at her. She shouldn’t be drinking. Anyone knew alcohol was bad for unborn babies. But this didn’t seem the time—not yet. He came closer still and gently lifted her chin. “You don’t know what, Kel?” He saw fear and confusion on her face, and for the first time since hearing the news about the baby, Dayne felt truly sorry for her. Even though she’d promised to be ready to make a decision by now, clearly she was still scared to death. This couldn’t be easy for her either. He softened his tone. “What don’t you know?”
She was quiet, and her hands began to tremble.
“Kelly, listen. You won’t have to have this baby alone. I want to try again. That’s what tonight is about for me.” His heart rate doubled. Katy Hart’s face tried to come to mind, but he refused it. His lips were suddenly dry. “We were friends first, and maybe this . . . the baby will help us give things more of a chance.”
For the first time tonight, he didn’t see fear or confusion or coyness or uncertainty in Kelly’s eyes. He saw guilt. Guilt and regret.
“I don’t know how to tell you, Dayne.”
It was his turn to feel confused. “Tell me what?”
She looked at him a long time, and her eyes gave him a window to all she was feeling. First the guilt, then remorse, and finally something that mixed love with regret. The emotions took turns with her expression and made her appear vulnerable. Something Dayne hadn’t seen in Kelly since they first moved in together.
She reached up and brushed her fingertips against his cheek. “Do you know how much I loved you, Dayne?”
He covered her hand with his own. “I care about you too. I always have.”
A sad laugh sounded in her throat. “See? Even now you can’t tell me you love me.”
“Kelly . . .” What was he supposed to say? “I did love you . . . you know I did.” But even as he said the words, he felt like a liar. Love—the sort of love she was talking about—would take weeks, months. As they spent more time together, as they made plans for their baby, he was bound to feel love for her.
But Kelly was shaking her head. “You never loved me, Dayne.” There were tears in her eyes. “Not like you loved her.”
For the slightest instant he was going to ask, “Who?” Whom had he loved more than Kelly? But the answer was as obvious as the brick wall surrounding them. And it was an answer Kelly already knew. Dayne looked at the ground near his shoes. But Katy was gone. He and Kelly were about to be parents, so there simply was no Katy Hart. Now he needed to convince Kelly. He lifted his eyes and tried to look convincing. “I haven’t talked to her since the day you told me about the baby.” He moved his hands to her shoulders. “I want to do the right thing here, Kelly.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “There is no right thing.” She looked weak, as if her knees could buckle at any moment. “I’ve loved you for years, Dayne. Only after I moved out did I finally make myself understand that you would never—not ever—love me the way I loved you. Don’t you see? I don’t want you to work at loving me.” Anger crept into her tone. “You want to do the right thing? Can you hear yourself?” She jerked away from him. “This isn’t 1950. You don’t have to stay around and try to make it work just because you got me pregnant.” She wheeled around, stormed across the courtyard, and faced the wall on the other side.
Why was she acting like this? They both had to see that the situation wasn’t ideal. What was wrong with agreeing to try, to look for whatever love might be created betwee
n them?
He crossed the patio, glancing at the door as he passed it. Ten minutes had slipped by; they didn’t have much longer. The others must have sensed that he and Kelly needed time to talk. But if they didn’t hurry, Hawk was bound to come looking for them. Dayne came up behind her and once more placed his hands on her shoulders. “Kelly, don’t do this. Not now.” He kept his voice low, his mouth a few inches from her ear. “I care about you or I wouldn’t be here.”
“You don’t care about me!” She whipped around and glared at him, the tears on her cheeks little more than reflections of her anger. Then she seemed to remember where she was and who she was. The lines on her forehead eased, and she gathered herself into a more composed, upright position. “You care about the baby. That’s what this is all about.”
Dayne opened his mouth, but he couldn’t find the words to refute her. “What’s wrong with that?” He didn’t raise his voice, but he was more frustrated than before. “We wouldn’t be the first couple who found a way to love each other because of a child, right? I mean, right?”
She studied him. “Dayne . . .” The vulnerability from a moment ago was gone, and in its place was a look that screamed vindication. She ran her hands over her flat abdomen and narrow waist. “There is no baby, okay? Can’t you figure it out?”
“No baby?” Dayne’s head began to spin. What was she saying? How could she let him believe there was a baby all this time if . . . “You weren’t . . . you weren’t really pregnant?”
She groaned, and the sound of it was riddled with pain. A fresh layer of tears began pooling in her eyes. “I had an abortion, okay?” She took a step back and ran her hands down her sides. “Women six months pregnant don’t look like this.”
Dayne couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak. He staggered back a few steps and grabbed hold of the railing around the tree. “Without . . . without telling me?” The shock was suffocating him, coming at him from every side. The baby . . . the one he’d been planning for these past few months . . . was dead? He felt horrified, numb, and nauseous all at the same time. “Are you serious?”