8
“So, how long have you two been together?”
Shane and Lilah exchanged uncomfortable glances.
The two of them were sitting on either end of a couch that wasn’t nearly as big as Shane would’ve liked. Perched in a plush armchair opposite them was their network-assigned couples therapist, Dr. Deena, a slender sixtysomething South Asian woman with cropped white hair and oversized purple-framed glasses. The glasses seemed to be an anomaly, though, since everything else in her office, from the furniture to the décor to her outfit, was aggressively neutral, running the gamut of shades from cream to beige.
“We’re, um…we’re not together,” Lilah said. “We’re not a couple, I mean.” She said it with some hesitation, like she was unsure if it was a trick question.
Dr. Deena blinked a few times then glanced down at her notepad. “Oh, I’m sorry. There must have been some kind of miscommunication with my intake coordinator. So, what is your relationship, exactly?”
“Co-workers,” Shane said tersely. Dr. Deena looked even more confused.
“We’re actors. On a TV show,” Lilah supplied. “The network wanted us to see you. We’ve been having some…issues.”
Dr. Deena’s eyes crinkled warmly at the edges. “I see. I don’t watch much television, so you’ll have to forgive me for not recognizing you.” She sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Okay. Got it. Just bring me up to speed, then—what’s your relationship status outside of each other? Are either of you married?”
They both shook their heads. Dr. Deena made a note on her pad.
“Dating?”
They eyed each other briefly before returning their gazes straight ahead.
Shane hadn’t been in a relationship longer than three months since he and Serena had broken up, but not for lack of trying. Despite his sporadic attempts at playing the field over the years, he’d always been a girlfriend guy. It was just hard to maintain a serious relationship with his schedule, especially if he was dating someone equally as busy as he was.
His last attempt, with a woman who worked in the art department on another UBS show, had petered out sometime around the end of last season. The two of them had stolen as many moments as they could during production, counting down the days until their summer hiatus and the promise of plenty of uninterrupted time to spend together—but when it had finally rolled around, they’d realized that neither of them really wanted to.
“No,” he said at last, glancing over at Lilah again, who he was surprised to see was studying him intently. He didn’t want to admit how curious he was to hear her answer.
After she and Shane had stopped seeing each other, he knew she’d gotten back together with her ex-boyfriend from New York, a playwright who regularly spent months in L.A. on the writing staff of one short-lived prestige show or another. From what Shane could gather from passive thirdhand gossip, their relationship was fairly chaotic, with the two of them breaking up every time he left, then taking another crack at it whenever he returned.
But, he realized with a twinge, other than the tabloids briefly linking her to her Without a Net costar in a transparent attempt to drum up some positive buzz for the movie (which had backfired, since he was playing her adult son and everyone just thought it was creepy), Shane had no idea what her personal life had looked like since she’d left the show.
Lilah looked straight ahead again. “No. I’m not seeing anyone.”
“And have either of you been in therapy before? Couples or otherwise.”
Lilah answered first, without hesitation. “I have. By myself. On and off, since I was around…eleven, I guess? I have GAD.”
Shane kept his gaze resolutely forward, trying to camouflage his surprise. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but he knew the “A” in the middle probably stood for “anxiety.” She’d mentioned it in passing—and he’d borne the brunt of it firsthand before, of course—but he didn’t know it was bad enough that she’d been in therapy for it since she was a kid. He felt a pang of sympathy toward her, which he quickly suppressed.
Dr. Deena nodded. “And you’re able to manage it effectively now? I’m sure it’s not easy in your line of work.”
Shane thought he caught her glancing over at him before she responded.
“Mm-hmm. All good,” she said crisply.
Dr. Deena turned to him. “What about you, Shane?”
He shook his head. “No. Never.”
Lilah made a derisive noise under her breath. Either Dr. Deena didn’t notice or she chose to ignore it. “So, how long have you two been working together?”
“The show started eight years ago, I left after five seasons, and I just came back a few weeks ago,” Lilah rattled off.
“And that’s when the conflict started? When you came back?”
“Ah…” Lilah clicked her tongue. “No, it was…before that.”
Dr. Deena shifted in her seat, tapping her pen on her chin. “What would you say your biggest issue is? If you could narrow it down.”
“We spend too much time together,” Shane said, his voice flat. If he added it up, he’d probably logged more hours at Lilah’s side than anyone else’s, including any of his girlfriends.
“Can you pinpoint when things started to decline, though? It couldn’t have been like this from day one,” Dr. Deena persisted.
They looked at each other, Lilah’s face reflecting the unease he was feeling.
“It was after…we used to…we were involved. For a little while. And it…ended badly,” Lilah said at last, like it was being extracted from her under interrogation.
Dr. Deena nodded slowly. “I see. Let’s walk it back to the beginning, then. Tell me about your relationship. When did it start?”
They sat in silence for a long moment, neither of them looking at the other. Shane sensed Lilah was about as eager to rehash all this as he was. But that was why they were here, he supposed. He sighed.
“It started at the beginning. I mean, it started when we met, pretty much. After the show got picked up.”
“And how long did it last?” Dr. Deena asked.
“Um…eight, nine months? Something like that?” He allowed himself to glance at Lilah for confirmation, and she gave a brusque nod.
“So what happened?”
Shane rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, running both hands over his face and through his hair. “Well. We were spending a lot of time together, like I said. And from the beginning there was…um. A spark, I guess. So we started seeing each other.”
“It was just physical, though,” Lilah interrupted. “Nothing serious.”
Shane felt something flare inside his chest. Of course she would say that. He was the one who’d been stupid enough to tell her he loved her, his heart sliding into his stomach when she’d ignored it. But he’d thrown the word around too easily. He’d just been high on sex brain chemicals or something. Sitting next to her now, it was hard to believe he’d ever had any strong feelings for her besides loathing.
“You want to take it from here?” he asked, his voice sharp.
She held up her hands in surrender. “No, please, keep going. I want to hear this part.”
Shane shifted in his seat, trying to recapture his train of thought. “So, things were fine. Good. I thought so, anyway. But then after we wrapped the first season…” He paused, feeling Lilah’s eyes on him. It felt so fucking stupid saying it out loud. “We, um. We drank a little too much at the party and woke up with…matching tattoos.”
“You two have matching tattoos?” Dr. Deena asked, eyebrows raised.
“Not anymore. She covered hers up.” He glanced at Lilah. “What is that, by the way? Is it a Hags thing?” He tried in vain to keep his voice friendly, prickling with irritation all over again about the whole situation.
Lilah flattened her lips into a tight line. “I think that’s beside the point.”
“Right. The point. The point is, Lilah made it pretty fucking clear that whatever was going on wasn’t working for her anymore.”
Lilah sighed heavily. “Okay, yes, fine. I overreacted. But twelve hours later you were sticking your hands up every tube top in L.A., so obviously you weren’t that torn up about it.”
Shame coursed through him, hot and thick. He pushed it down, trying to tap back into that self-righteous anger simmering in the background whenever he was in Lilah’s presence.
“You broke up with me, Lilah,” he said, turning to face her directly, trying and failing to keep his frustration from boiling over. “Stop trying to make me the bad guy.”
Something resembling pain flashed across her face, just for a second, turning to anger so swiftly he wasn’t sure if he’d imagined it.
“You’re right, all you did was go out of your way to hurt and humiliate me as much as possible immediately afterward. Truly a prince among men.” She shook her head wearily before turning away, her next words escaping under her breath. “There are no good guys here. You haven’t figured that out yet?”
Guilt pooled in the pit of his stomach. He forced himself to keep his mouth shut before it slipped out: that back then, he hadn’t been sure he could hurt her. But she was right that he’d damn well tried his hardest.
Getting involved with her had been the biggest mistake of his life—tied with every other subsequent mistake he’d made regarding her. He knew he was far from the only person who’d made bad, impulsive decisions when they were young and stupid, but he’d never been allowed to make a clean break and move on. He had to face her every day, rip off the scab over and over again before the wound had a chance to heal. Even her leaving the show turned out to be only a temporary fix, since here they were again, worse than ever.
She couldn’t exactly be the one that got away if he could never fucking escape her.
“Okay. Well. I can see there’s clearly still a lot of emotion here, on both sides,” Dr. Deena interjected, startling Shane. He’d almost forgotten she was still in the room. “So, things have been like this between you for the past seven years? I’m surprised you’ve been able to shoot a single episode.”
Shane shook his head, suddenly self-conscious that they’d gotten so carried away in front of her.
“No, we were able to put it behind us enough to work together. I mean, we basically just avoided each other as much as possible.” He cast a sidelong glance at Lilah. “But then, right before she left the show…”
Lilah was staring out the window now, palpably tense. He lost his nerve at the last second, choosing to keep things vague. “Things kind of…escalated again. Worse than before.”
Dr. Deena leaned forward, studying them both intently for a moment before obviously deciding not to push it. “I see. Let’s put a pin in this for now. You’re both carrying a lot of resentment over things that happened in the past, but neither of you knows how to make the first move to push past it. Our goal for these sessions is going to be to try to break the holding pattern that you’re in. I want to refocus our energy on that. You’ve known each other for a very long time and obviously used to get along. I don’t see why we can’t get there again.”
Both of them sat in skeptical silence. Dr. Deena turned to Shane.
“Now, Shane. I want you to tell Lilah one thing you like about her.”
Shane allowed himself to study Lilah. She watched him impassively, eyes hooded, before turning the other way to look out the window.
Better make it something superficial, something obvious.
He turned back to Dr. Deena. “She’s very attractive.”
“Let’s try to stick to nonphysical attributes, if we can,” Dr. Deena replied gently. “And tell her, don’t tell me.”
“Oh. Sorry.” He glanced at Lilah. “Forget I said that.”
Her lips were pursed in barely concealed amusement. “Forgotten.”
Shane considered taking a passive-aggressive swipe at her perfectionism, her coldness, her stubbornness, but he knew Dr. Deena would just make him come up with something else. If they were going to get through this session, he’d have to pay her a genuine compliment.
“She’s—I mean, you’re—” he corrected, twisting his head toward Lilah again. “You’re a good actor. Really good.”
“Because I’ve pretended to be in love with you for so long?” she asked drily. She, too, had been expecting a backhanded dig from him.
He shook his head. “No. Not that. You just…when we first started. I was really intimidated by you, because you were so…you knew what you were doing, and I didn’t. Working with you made me step my game up a lot. I learned so much. Just from being around you.”
Lilah stared at him, her lips parted slightly.
“Thank you, Shane, for your honesty,” Dr. Deena said.
“Yeah. Thanks,” Lilah muttered.
“Lilah, I’d like you to do the same for Shane. One thing you like about him.”
She shifted on the couch and looked at him for a long time, legs crossed, fingers clasped around her top knee.
It felt like hours ticked by.
Finally, Dr. Deena intervened. “It doesn’t have to be anything big. Just the first thing that comes to mind.”
Lilah glanced at her. “Sorry.” When she spoke again, he could tell she was working hard to keep her voice steady. “It’s just…you’re very likable, Shane. You’re friends with pretty much everyone. You can be really kind, and funny, and charming, and generous. You have a lot of amazing qualities.” Her expression tightened. “It’s just been years since I’ve experienced any of them personally.”
It shouldn’t have been a revelation to him. Of course he knew how he’d been treating her—and most of the time, she’d been giving it right back. But something about hearing it laid out like that had him speechless, guilt twisting his stomach. Or maybe it was the look on her face that did it: hard and impassive at first glance, but her pink cheeks and shining eyes betraying her.
It could have been an act, an attempt to get Dr. Deena on her side. But that wouldn’t be like her. As good an actress as she was, she wasn’t one to waste energy faking her emotions off camera if she didn’t have to. Not like this, anyway; not to try to manipulate someone else’s opinion of her.
That was the thing about Lilah that had always scared the shit out of him: that she was fully, terrifyingly, immutably herself, whether anyone else liked it or not. Whether they liked her or not. She was fearless in a way that he, a people pleaser to his core, never could be, which from the very beginning had intimidated him ten times more than her already formidable talent.
So really, her reaction could only mean one thing: if she’d never cared about him—if she still didn’t—she wouldn’t be this upset.
He had no idea what to do with that information.
When the hour was over, the two of them filed silently through the empty waiting room. As soon as Shane pushed the button for the elevator, Lilah made a beeline for the emergency stairwell. Without thinking, he tagged along after her. When she looked back at him with an accusatory glare, he shrugged.
“Never hurts to get a little exercise.”
She didn’t say anything, just held the door open behind her so he could squeeze by. The stairs were narrow enough that he had to lag a few steps behind her. They didn’t say a word to each other all four flights down, their footfalls echoing off the cement walls.
When they reached the parking lot, he placed his hand on her arm—nonaggressively, he thought, but she still jumped. He dropped it as soon as he had her attention.
“What are you up to right now?”
She eyed him with suspicion. “I was going to go to set early, work on the scene. We have a ton of pages to get through. I don’t want to be out there all night.”
He looked down at his shoes, feeling ridiculous for even asking. “Do you want to grab something first? Coffee? Or lunch?”
A handful of emotions crossed her face—astonishment, annoyance, then a flicker of that same hurt he’d seen earlier. She glanced down at her feet, and when she looked back up again, it was pure distrust.
“You want to get lunch? What, I give you one compliment and suddenly you like me again?”
He shifted his weight. “No. I mean—I don’t know. That’s what this is for, right? I thought maybe we could…keep talking.”
She looked at him for a long time before slowly shaking her head. “I think I’m all talked out for the day,” she finally said, her voice coming out quieter and more tired than he’d expected. “And I think…not without Dr. Deena. For now. It’s just…there’s too much, still.”
He nodded mutely. She was right. They’d barely scratched the surface of their issues.
She turned and walked to her car. His own car was a few spaces over, but he just stood there, watching her.
“Stop staring at me, you fucking weirdo,” she called as she slid into the driver’s seat, but he could hear the trace of laughter in her voice, see the flash of a rueful smile before she shut the door.