An explanation had never come, though. Even after Caitlyn had finally let herself accept that he had never loved her and didn’t care enough to call—hadn’t even cared enough to break up with her face to face—she hadn’t been able to make herself date much. It was so hard to trust guys. They were always hiding something behind their charming smiles and understanding eyes.
Marbles or Snowball purred thunderously and flopped down beside her. Caitlyn thought that when she got back to Cincinnati she should probably go to the shelter to get a cat; it would help make her apartment a little less empty.
Chapter Two
Emrys Sébire normally enjoyed any time he spent away from the courtly life of Cabeau. Unfortunately, PR events tended to put him in a foul mood. They were hollow. There was little opportunity to really speak one’s mind, especially for films like the Roughhousing series. They did keep his funds moving while he waited for better projects to come along—a necessary evil, in light of his father’s unyielding determination to withhold Emrys’s trust fund until he was middle-aged. He would have been happier, however, if not quite so many of his scenes had ended up on the cutting room floor. The result was a bit narratively messy, but they did find time for that extra car chase.
With a thank you to a rather skinny waitress, Emrys took a glass of champagne and headed outside. The lounge that the producers had secured for the party was quite upscale for what was essentially a junk food action movie sequel. The inside bar was lit along its base, and chandeliers revolved slowly, casting gentle, multicolored lights on the patrons. Even from outside, the lights made everything seem to glow along with the New York skyline. Each seat was less of a chair and more of an ergonomically designed abstract shape, and there was a long, narrow, rectangular pool by which several people sat, drinks in hand.
Everyone else seemed to be having a fine enough evening. Emrys recognized that part of his mood had to do with being a bit put out that the line for autographs hadn’t been very long tonight, but the audience for this series tended to skew to a certain breed of man, and that cut into his usual fan base deeply. He’d spent the first half of the evening chatting with costars and mingling with people in the industry who tended to perennially show up to these events. It was smaller than many he’d been to, but that fact in itself was a blessing.
“You’re lurking, Emrys,” Nina said from behind him.
Emrys turned to her with a frown. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Nina shrugged, pushing back her thick, black curls. “Just tryin’ to be social. There’s so much buzz around these films, so many big name stars attached.”
“What the American public consumes is inexplicable.”
“Don’t be a snob. It’s all about entertainment. Something to get the blood pumping.” Nina sipped her cocktail and sighed. “Be grateful to have a part at all. That’s what it’s about. Keep working, keep in the public eye. It’s worked for much lesser actors than yourself.”
Emrys rolled his eyes. He had no desire to be an actor who succeeded due to sheer oversaturation in the media or scandal. He considered himself good at what he did, even if many of his opportunities so far had been big blockbusters with little plot to speak of. Overall, he thought his body of work spoke well of his integrities as an actor, as well as the skill he’d developed over the years. He followed her back inside and returned to his table, fulfilling his duty to promote the movie.
He did his part as folks came by his table to chat about their projects. Nina sent a few directors over to speak with him. The evening encompassed more business about other things than it did talking up the movie itself, so the time passed bearably until the doors opened and he caught sight of a head of strawberry blonde hair.
Since he’d left Charles de Gaulle five years ago, Emrys had spotted many redheads and felt his heart skip, then fall, every time. He knew how unlikely it would be for him to run into that pretty, delicate thing he’d toyed with in Paris, only to let her go in the cruelest fashion. That he’d had his reasons didn’t ease his guilt much. This time, though, as the woman turned, Emrys began to think that she bore more than a passing resemblance to Caitlyn.
Her hair was much shorter than the long, sweet braids Caitlyn had usually worn back during that summer he’d met her during a day trip to Nice. Now her hair came just above her shoulders and was styled neatly around her face, with a bit of a curl worked into the front. The large frames of her glasses had been replaced with small, cute rectangles. She was slimmer than she had been as a college girl, too, but she still had those luscious, wide hips that he’d loved to run his hands over. She was like the statue of a Greek goddess. He remembered squeezing her thick thighs as he climbed into her dorm room bed to make her squeal with delight. When she turned to dance by the table with her girlfriends, her flared skirt shifted and swung around her legs. He was maybe twenty feet away, but he could have sworn when she covered her mouth, he could heart that little giggle-snort of hers.