Chapter Twenty #2
third one is our favorite.
I use that term loosely because it’s temporary. Christian
believes this move will only be for this season, so we pick the place we like
out of the ones we toured and sign the lease. When we get back to the hotel, we
arrange to have all our stuff packed and shipped from Toronto.
“Good thing you’re going back to LA this week,” Christian
says with a small laugh as he gets ready to head to the stadium.
“Um…why?”
“So we can check out of the hotel. By the time we’re both
back, hopefully some of our things will have arrived from Canada. I know you
never travel with much, so you’ll need more than what’s in your carry-on.”
He’s got a point.
I let out a long breath and follow him across the room as he
gathers his bag and gear for today’s game.
“So, I was thinking…”
Before I can say more, his phone rings. Pulling it from his
pocket, he groans quietly. “I’m sorry, but I need to take this. It’s one of the
trainers.” He absentmindedly kisses my cheek. “I’ll see you at the game,
right?”
“Why is the trainer calling you?”
He looks at the phone and then at me, but I know where his
attention is. “It’s nothing, I’m sure, but…”
“Go,” I tell him as I sit back down on the sofa. Christian
walks away from me, speaking softly into the phone, and I don’t take it as a
good sign. I watch as he moves around the suite, pacing slowly, and I get a
sinking feeling that things aren’t any better.
I mean, I know they aren’t. I’ve known it all along. But I
keep holding on to the tiny glimmer of hope that I’m being overly critical and
that his body is healing.
His shoulders sag, and I hear him say, “I’ll be there.
Thanks.”
I watch as he slides his phone into his pocket before facing
me, but his smile is forced as he comes over to kiss me again.
“Everything okay?”
“My medical records arrived, so…” He shrugs. “They want to
meet with me.”
I don’t ask anything else because I can already tell that
he’s feeling defeated. So, I reach up and give him a reassuring kiss. “I’ll see
you at the game. I love you.”
That seems to ease his mind. “Love you, too, beautiful
girl.” And then he leaves.
I woke up this morning knowing my decision about the
audition, and this little interaction confirms that I’m doing the right thing.
I stare at Tracy’s name on my phone for five full minutes
before finally pressing call.
It rings twice.
“Ella!” she answers brightly, polished enthusiasm dripping
through the speaker. “Please tell me this is the part where you confess you
simply forgot to text me your travel info because you’re already studying the
superhero universe and deciding what color gown you want to wear to your first
Oscar ceremony.”
I swallow. My mouth feels dry. And honestly, I might vomit.
“Not…exactly.”
There’s a brief pause. Not long, just long enough for her
instincts to flare.
“What do you mean ‘not exactly?’” she asks lightly, but the
sharpness underneath is unmistakable.
I take a breath. “I won’t be coming to LA. I’m not going to
audition.”
Silence.
Tracy’s not the reactive type. She doesn’t gasp. She doesn’t
shout. She goes very still. But I can almost hear her brain
recalculating.
“I must’ve misheard you,” she says finally, her voice smooth
as glass. “Because you cannot possibly be telling me you’re turning down a
direct lead consideration for one of the biggest films shooting next year.”
“I am.”
“And why,” she asks calmly, too calmly, “would you do that?”
My fingers grip the phone tighter. “Because it would mean
months away. And Christian is…he’s still recovering. We’ve just uprooted our
lives again. He needs stability. We need stability. And I need to
prioritize my marriage right now.”
Even though he’s okay with me leaving—and I truly believe he
is—I’m not.
“And you can’t do that while working?” Tracy replies
instantly.
“It’s not just work,” I say softly. “It’s leaving. It’s
disappearing from our lives again. And I don’t want to do that. Not right now.
It’s just not the right time.”
Tracy exhales a little laugh. It’s not amused.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she says. “You’re romanticizing sacrifice
like it’s some noble calling. He plays baseball. You act. That’s the
deal. You knew what you were marrying into. He knew what he was marrying into.
This is the kind of role people wait their entire careers for.”
“I know,” I whisper, and I do. I seriously do. “But my
marriage isn’t something I want to gamble with.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“You are making an emotional decision,” she says crisply.
“Not a professional one. And emotional decisions cost careers.”
“I’m aware.”
“No,” she snaps, her patience cracking now. “You think
you’re aware. You think everyone will just…stay interested. That Hollywood
waits politely for actresses who choose domestic bliss over opportunity. It
doesn’t. It replaces you. Quickly. Quietly.”
The words sting, not because they’re cruel, but because
they’re true.
“I don’t want to disappear,” I say softly. “I’m not
quitting. I’m just…choosing differently. Right now.”
“Right now turns into later,” she replies. “Later turns into
‘maybe someday,’ and someday turns into never.”
She’s frustrated. Agitated. I can picture her pacing. Not
heartbroken. Not hurt.
Just…calculating a loss.
“I appreciate everything you have done for me. Every accomplishment
in my career is because of you,” I say gently, because I do care about her. Or
I thought I did. “But this is what I need to do.”
There’s a sharp exhale.
“Well,” Tracy says coolly, “then I should probably be
honest, too.”
Something in my chest tightens because her tone doesn’t even
remotely imply that something warm and fuzzy is coming.
“If you’re not actively working,” she continues, her voice
turning crisp, professional, and unforgiving, “you’re not making me money. And
if you’re not making me money, you’re no good to me.”
My stomach drops, and my lunch slowly rises in my throat.
I blink. “I’m…sorry?”
“I’m not here to hold your hand while you play house and find
yourself emotionally,” she says. “I build careers. I negotiate deals. I
make stars. I don’t babysit people who decide their husbands are their entire
personality.”
The room feels like it’s spinning. My heart is racing so
hard I fear I might pass out.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“I booked this meeting. I secured this opportunity. I’ve
invested years into your trajectory. And you’re just…walking away from
momentum.” She sighs as if it’s exhausting. “So, I’m walking away, too. But
I’ll still be collecting my ten percent for everything I booked for you,” she
adds bitterly.
“You’re quitting?” I ask. Even to my own ears, I sound
stunned.
“Yes,” she says simply. “I’ll have my office send the
paperwork. Best of luck, Ella.”
The line goes dead before I can respond.
For a moment, I can only sit there, staring at my phone in
my trembling hand. But my heart? It’s still racing but…not in heartbreak, or
even in anger.
Just…clarity.
I thought Tracy was in my corner. I thought she cared about me.
The human. The friend. The woman whose life she was helping shape.
But no.
To her, I was a product. A brand. A revenue stream.
And now, I’m not.
It hurts. Of course, it hurts. But there’s something else
beneath the sting.
Relief.
Because for the first time in a long time, the truth is
clear.
This isn’t personal for her.
But it is for me.
And I chose right.
My manager, Alison, calls me an hour after my call
with Tracy and also severs ties with me.
For the same reason. I’m useless to her if I’m not working
on anything.
If this is rock bottom, I never want to be here again.
I don’t tell Christian about my conversations with Tracy and
Alison until we sit down to dinner after the game. I expect him to pepper me
with questions, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gets quiet. We finish our meal in
utter silence.
Christian isn’t a loud person to begin with, but when
something’s weighing on him, he gets…still. Thoughtful. It’s the kind of
silence that hums—both unsettling and comforting at the same time.
I stand and look around, unsure what to do. The Phoenix city
lights stretch out before me through the window, and it reminds me of the
nights we ate dinner at the rooftop restaurant in Tempe. I remember swaying to
the music, admiring the scenery, and just feeling like my world was perfect.
I’d give anything for Christian to walk over to me now so we