Fuck, he loved her. The thought of a life without her—
Well, he tried not to think about it. Ever. Because when he was alone and those thoughts, those sibilant whispers born of fears he couldn’t seem to shake, did slither into his brain, he panicked. His pulse echoed in his ears, his breathing turned shallow and rapid, his skin flushed and dampened with sweat, and he wondered if he might be having a heart attack.
It wasn’t a heart attack, though. It was a panic attack. He hadn’t had them for years now, not since his days in weekly therapy, but he still recognized the signs.
In the aftermath of those occasional episodes, he always racked his brain, searching for some way to tie her closer to him. Even though she’d already moved from Sweden to be with him, and they already lived together.
He knew she didn’t want kids. Neither of them did. But whether she’d accept a marriage proposal... that, he kept questioning. Kept debating.
Ask too soon, and he might scare her off. Ask too late, and she might question the strength of his commitment and pull away to protect herself.
The other thing he knew for certain: If he did ever propose, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do it in front of a fucking audience.
So, much to the dismay of everyone in the assigned hall, there wouldn’t be another bombshell of any sort in his Q&A session with Maria. None. Zero. Zip.
Or at least therewasn’tgoing to be a bombshell.
Then he got the call from his agent, a mere half hour before they were due to report backstage in their hall. It wasn’t enough time to go over the nuts and bolts of the offer he’d just received, but plenty of time to understand the essentials.
To keep from disturbing him, Maria had closed herself into the suite’s bedroom as soon as DeShaun called. But once the conversation ended, she immediately emerged and flopped onto the couch next to him, cheerful and gorgeous as always.
Her knee nudged his. “What did DeShaun have to say? Any new nibbles or exciting scripts?”
In his daze, he barely heard her.
This was it, finally. His next big job, essentially dropped intohis lap without any effort on his part. Or, as Maria might counter, noadditionaleffort.
All because he’d finally proven himself to the powers that be in Hollywood withGods of the Gates, finally shown them what he’d earned and what he deserved.
A lead role on a high-profile show. A fat paycheck. Guaranteed years of steady work.
Enough career stability to offer the woman he loved marriage.
“Yeah,” he said slowly. “I... I got an offer.”
She planted a smacking kiss on his cheek. “Congratulations,sötnos. Which part?”
“I didn’t audition for it.” Bemused, elated, he shook his head and turned to her. “I mean, I auditioned for a guest role on the show, but not the part they gave me. I guess they felt like they’d seen enough between that andGods of the Gatesto cast me.”
Her beam nearly blinded him. “Even better. They obviously know your value. What is it?”
This role would cement their future together. Cementthemtogether.
And the sooner he managed to get the words out, the sooner they could start to celebrate.
“Maria, sweetheart.” He took her hands in his. “Remember how I auditioned for the multi-episode serial killer role onFTI: Forensic Team Investigations?”
She offered him a very dry look. “Since it’s one of the biggest shows on basic cable and there are approximately a dozen spinoffs currently airing around the world, including in Sweden, all featuring people in white coats peering into microscopes, enhancing computer images of license plates, and becoming inadvertent targets of murderers, and I thought one of those murderers might eventually be you, yes. Yes, I remember.”
He would bristle at her description of the show, but she was right, and they both realized it. The role they’d offered him wouldn’t allow the sort of character depth and development he usually preferred, but an opportunity like this . . . he’d be a fool to turn it down, and when it came to his career, he was never, ever a fool.
Shit, he could barely believe it, even though DeShaun had confirmed the offer five separate times during their call. “My audition was for the original series, the one set in Seattle. Turns out, the actor who’s been their lead since the beginning wants to return to films, and he’s leaving between seasons. They’re killing off his character, so the on-screen team needs a new head forensics dude.”
He waited, and it didn’t take her long to fill in the rest.
“You, obviously. Head forensics dude extraordinaire,” she said brightly, and kissed him again, this time on the mouth. “Peter, that’swonderfulnews. When will you start?”
“Maybe in a month or so?” Letting go of her hands, he checked the notes he’d taken on his phone. “They film in Vancouver, apparently, so I’ll need to arrive a few days before they start shooting the next season and set up a place to live there.”