Chapter 2

I went back to the guest room, locked the door, and called Mavis Palmer.

She listened to the whole thing, then went quiet for a full ten seconds.

"Eight million, an apartment, a car, and six cases of liquor?"

"That's right."

"Did you take the sapphire back?"

"No."

Mavis drew a sharp breath, the kind she saved for when I'd let her down.

"You're slipping. That necklace is worth two million, minimum."

I lay on the bed, tears sliding silently into my hair.

"It was made for the real one. It always felt too tight on me anyway."

The other end went quiet again.

Mavis had known me for ten years. She knew when a joke would land and when to just play along and pretend I hadn't been crying.

She changed the subject and asked whether I was going back to the set.

I got into the business at eighteen, working my way up from extra to stand-in.

At my busiest, I took slaps for four different actresses in a single day.

Directors didn't want my face on camera, so the makeup artists smeared me with grime until you couldn't make out my features.

Mavis was managing the stand-ins back then, and she had one line she said all the time.

The camera can leave your face out. The contract has to have your name in it.

Later I married Simon, walked away from the set, and Mavis cursed me out for handing back everything she'd taught me.

Now it seemed I had some catching up to do.

"I want to open a stand-in actors' studio."

I wiped my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

"Find people work, and make sure they get the money they're owed."

Mavis's voice perked right up.

"Eight million to start?"

"Two million to start. I'll bank the rest. I need to guard against my own lovesick relapses."

She laughed and told me I'd finally grown up, then asked when I was moving out.

I said once the apartment was ready.

After I hung up, there was a soft knock at the door.

Simon stood in the doorway, a glass of warm milk in his hand.

"You didn't eat tonight."

I looked at the steam rising off the rim and didn't reach for it.

Three years of marriage. No matter how late he came home from a dinner, he always brought me something to eat.

I used to think of these small habits as roots that love had grown.

Only tonight did I understand how shallow those roots went. Cindy came back, and she could pull the whole thing up at once.

Impatience flickered between Simon's brows, and he pushed the glass into my hands.

"Drink it, then sleep."

I cupped the glass and asked quietly, "Does Miss Cox drink warm milk too?"

His face went stiff.

"This has nothing to do with her."

"Good," I said, and smiled a little. "I thought maybe this was another habit she left behind."

Simon stared at me. His lips moved.

Downstairs, a phone suddenly rang.

Cindy's name lit up the screen.

He turned and went down, his steps quick.

The milk was still warm. I took a sip, and the sweetness turned bitter in my mouth.

At one in the morning, I heard the door open downstairs.

Simon stood in the living room for a while, then came up and knocked on my door.

I wasn't asleep. Through the door, I asked if he needed something.

"Cindy's gone back to her hotel."

He said that, and then nothing more.

I sat on the bed with my arms around my knees and waited a moment.

"All right."

The person outside still didn't leave.

"You saw her photo a long time ago, didn't you?"

"Mm."

"You know why I got close to you?"

I buried my face against my knees, my voice muffled.

"I know. Mavis said I was lucky back then. I landed a stand-in role even in love."

Simon's breathing turned noticeably heavier.

"If you knew, why marry me?"

I'd asked myself that too.

The answer had always been humiliating.

"Because I loved you."

Outside the door, it went completely silent.

I waited until the hallway light switched itself off, and still I didn't hear his answer.

That he loved me was something he had never once admitted.

At least silence couldn't be written into a divorce agreement, and it couldn't be docked from my account.