Page 117 of Score
“I heard him say that.” I leave space for her to add more, but she just chews blithely like she didn’t flee the room as if I were a Russian spy. “The Hazel scenes are some of my favorites.”
“Of course they are.” Verity smiles while she chews. “They all involve a piano.”
“Did something major or new come up since the last version of the script?” I ask, giving her room to elaborate.
“I don’t think so.” She frowns, spearing a chunk of grilled chicken. “Why?”
“Vee.” I push my plate away and lean forward to search her face from across the dining room table. “What the hell?”
She holds her fork, letting it hover in the air on its way to her mouth, and watches me with wide eyes. “What?”
“What?” I release a humorless laugh. “Canon’s in the middle of a sentence and you snatch the phone and run from the room like I’m eavesdropping on your calls and reporting to the FBI. What’s up with that?”
“I… it was a private call,” she says stiffly.
“Look, I’m not being nosy, but—”
“It feels like you are.” She sets her fork down and pushes her plate away, too. “It was just work. Why are you making such a big deal about it?”
“That’s what I’m askingyou. Canon was done talking about work and he was asking aboutyou. That’s when you freaked out.”
She’s quiet, swallowing. Picking up her fork and putting it down again. Fidgeting.
“At first I thought I was overacting, but now, I’m worried.” I reach across the table to take her hand. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay?”
She looks from my hand gripping hers to my face, and back and forth again, like she’s checking to make sure she’s seeing right.
“You’re worried about me?” she asks, stretching the question out like it might not be true.
“I am now, yeah.” I get up and go around to her side, coaxing her out of the chair, sitting down and then settling her back on my lap. “Tell me.”
“I…” She sets her hand on my shoulder and then cups my jaw. “Thank you for being concerned, but it’s nothing. I just… there was a guy I worked with years ago who told Canon some shit about me.”
“What?” I snap. “Who?”
“Down, boy.” She laughs, but it’s indulgent. Her eyes fill with the affection that has somehow, since we started shootingDessi, become the norm between us again. “He told Canon I was a flake because I didn’t deliver some work for him.”
“That doesn’t sound like you.” I rub her back and wait for her to elaborate.
“He wasn’t lying,” she admits wryly. “I messed up and missed his deadline. It was… it was a bad time for me.”
A tough season. A bad time.
“Was it—”
“Can we talk about something else?” she cuts in, her eyes begging me to change the subject. Even though I want to keep digging and probing until the picture is clearer, I let it go.
“Okay, but listen for a sec.” I tilt her chin up so she has to look at me. “I know we’re keeping this casual.”
“And open.” She bites her bottom lips and smiles. “I remember.”
“Are you seeing anyone else?”
What the hell was I thinking asking that? It’s none of my business, but apparently there are no stops between my brain and my mouth now.
“Sorry.” I run a hand over the back of my neck. “Forget I asked. I don’t—”
“No.” Now she’s the one lifting my chin until I’m looking at her. “I’m not seeing anyone else.”
