“You went to college.”

She shakes her head. “Is that what she told you?”

“Yeah . . . didn’t you?”

She scoops the potato out of the sink and puts it on the counter. “Eventually. But that was just after graduation, Hilary. I was in the city until August.”

“Why did you leave, then?”

She hauls a deep breath, then looks at me. “Do you remember Doug?”

My mind does a quick inventory of the string of Mom’s live-in men. “The big blond one with the gold tooth?”

She nods. “It was graduation night. I was drunk and Carrie and her boyfriend gave me a ride home. Doug was on the couch, watching some old horror flick when I came in. I guess Mom was already passed out in bed.” She lowers herself into a chair, resting her elbows on her knees and holding her face in her hands. “I don’t really remember much . . . just that I stumbled into that little table behind the couch in the family room and knocked some things off it. Doug helped me up and sort of carried me to our room.” She looks up at me. “I don’t remember why you weren’t there . . . probably sleeping over at McKenzie’s or something.”

McKenzie. My friend from “before.” I’d forgotten about her.

“I remember he left and I started tugging off my clothes, but then I looked up and he was in my door, watching me . . .” A tear leaks over her lashes and she wipes her face with her palm. “I screamed, and Doug took off, but when Mom staggered in a minute later, and I told her what happened, she blamed me. Called me a tramp.” She looks up at me with the most tortured eyes I’ve ever seen. “I wanted to take you and go. I wanted to get us both out of there.”

It feels like I’ve been kicked in the gut. “But you left me.”

“I was only seventeen. When she threw me out a few weeks later because Doug whistled at me, I didn’t even have time to grab my stuff. She was crazy, waving a kitchen knife around in the air and threatening to kill me. I kept thinking I’d come back for you . . . that I’d bring you to Dad’s with me. I even went to the house one day to grab you. But you were with McKenzie, and you seemed so . . . normal. I knew I was leaving for college in a few months, so I . . .” She drops her face into her hands. “I just left you there.”

“If you’d taken me, I’d just have ended up in the system sooner, Mallory. There’s nothing you could have done to change that. I couldn’t have gone to Florida with you.”

She lifts her head and looks at me. “Don’t go back there.”

What do I say? “I don’t think . . .” I breathe deeply and lift my eyes to hers. “I don’t think you should leave it like this, Mallory. I think you need to . . . I don’t know . . . maybe if you saw her, if you talked about it—”

“No!” She springs from her chair. “I’m not going to talk to her! I’m never going to forgive her. I’m happy she’s dying, Hilary. I want her to!”

“Mommy?” We both spin on Henri’s voice. He’s standing just inside the kitchen with the empty apple plate. Max is behind him in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

She wipes her eyes and drags a forearm under her nose, sniffling as she moves quickly toward him. “Nothing, baby. Everything is good.” She smiles and takes the plate from his hand. “You want more apples?”

“Yes, please,” he says.

He comes to me, where I haven’t moved from the table. “Will you build Legos with me, Auntie?”

I stand and ruffle his hair, then pull him into a hug. “Sure, buddy.”

When I glance up at Mallory, she’s pushing an apple slicer down a Granny Smith like nothing ever happened, and I know as far as she’s concerned, the discussion is over. But I’m not going to let it drop. I can’t.

Chapter Sixteen

WHEN I GET to the audition a few minutes early, there’s already one girl in the small break room that I’m lead to. She’s taller than me, and brunette, with a long, thin neck and pretty face. She looks like a dancer, which makes me a little nervous. But I’m not sure she has the body to pull off the partial nude. She’s a little scrawny, to be honest.

“I’m Hailey,” the petite woman who greeted me says. “If you’d like coffee or tea, help yourself.” She waves an arm at the counter where there are pots of both coffee and hot water and a tray of muffins and croissants.

“Thanks,” I say as she turns to leave.

I grab a teabag from the basket, but as I’m pouring hot water over it into the styrofoam cup, I hear someone else come in.

“Help yourself to coffee or tea,” Hailey says again, and when I turn to size up the competition, I almost choke on my own spit.

Blondie.

How the hell did she get the audition?

“Anna?” Hailey says and the pretty brunette stands. “We’ll start with you.” She leads the brunette out of the room.

Blondie pours herself a cup of coffee as I slide into the chair the brunette was just in.

We sit in silence, ignoring each other’s existence, and I go through my lines in my head as I mindlessly flip magazine pages. I spent some time online last week checking out pictures and video of Jared Meeks, the actor we’re reading opposite. He’s hot—longish dark hair and sexy stubble, a great smile, shockingly blue eyes, and muscles on his muscles. I’ve lived my moment onstage with him over and over—the house lights down, stage lights up, the delicious sheen of sweat on his body. I’ve practiced my lines a hundred times with that image in my head. I am so ready for this.

It’s a half hour later when Hailey is back. “Bambi?” she asks into the room from the door. I think it must be a joke until Blond Bitch stands and smirks down at me on her way to the door.

“Freakshow,” I mutter with a scowl at the closed door once they’re gone.

I get up and refill my tea. “You want me. I know you do,” I say into the empty room on my way back to the table. I lower myself into my seat and close my eyes, visualizing how I want this to go. I picture myself, smooth and composed, walking onto the stage. Jared holds his hand out and I take it. “It’s my pleasure to meet you,” he says, squeezing my hand gently, and I say, “I’m a huge fan of your work,” and smile. His eyes scan my body and come back to meet my gaze, and I can tell by the appreciative glimmer in them that he likes what he sees. “Shall we take it from the top?” he asks, and I say, “Perfect.” He lets go of my hand, which he’s still holding because, let’s face it, he wants me, and I say, “You want me. I know you do,” like it wasn’t already obvious to everyone in the room.

“Hilary?”

Hailey’s voice cuts through my imagery and I blink my eyes open. She stands aside in the door. “We’re ready for you.”

Was that fast? Or was I just lost in my fantasy for longer than I thought?

I stand and she leads me up a short hall to an entrance marked stage door.

Deep breath.

I step through the door onto the stage and we pass through the curtain. In the row of seats up front is a curly-haired blond guy who reminds me of a mosquito, with bugging eyes behind thick glasses. And next to him is my leading man, Jared Meeks. I smile down at them and fist my hands into my skirt when I feel them start to shake.

No way.

No way I’m going to lose my composure now. I’ve got this. It’s mine if I just hold my shit together.

“So,” Hailey says from behind me, “Are we ready?”

I glance at her, then back down at Jared. “Yeah! I’m ready whenever you are.”

But Jared doesn’t move. He settles back in his seat and leans toward the curly-haired Mosquito Man, whispering something in his ear. They both laugh and I feel all the blood drain from my face. Are they laughing at me? Already?

My eyes flutter up from them, and halfway back, on the right side of the seats, I see Jess. She’s giving me an encouraging “go on” look. I turn and find Hailey looking at me expectantly.

“What?”

She squints at me. “Do you need a prompt?”

“What?” I ask again. What the hell is going on?

“For your first line? Do you need a prompt?”

“No! I know the line. I’m just . . .” I flick a glance to Jared, who’s stretching like I just woke him up . . . or maybe I’m putting him to sleep. I look back at Hailey, totally confused. “I thought I’d be reading opposite Jared.”

“Not today. When we have our girl, she’ll go opposite Jared, just to make sure the chemistry’s right.” She grins. “It’s your lucky day. You get to go opposite me.”

This is so not how I imagined this. But this part is still mine. I’m going to blow their socks off.

I square my shoulders and put on the confidence of a woman who’s about to proposition a man who’s totally off limits (because he’s married to her dying sister), but who she knows can’t resist her. “You want me. I know you do.”

“I do. You’re sexy and strong, and I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

I unbutton the top button of my blouse while Hailey’s delivering her line. “Then take me,” I implore, unbuttoning the second and revealing my red lace bra.

“It’s not right for us to give in to our desire, Tara. There are other people we need to consider. I have to think of Breanna. I couldn’t live with myself if I hurt her now, when she’s already so fragile.”

I unbutton the third. “Who cares what’s right. We need each other like oxygen. We belong together.”

Hailey steps closer and trails a finger along the butterflies on my collarbone. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. The doctors say Breanna only has a few more weeks. Days, maybe. When she’s gone, wild horses won’t be able to keep me away from you. But for now . . .” She trails off, lifting her hand to my cheek.