Method Acting: An opposites attract, found family romance (Center Stage Book 2) Adele Buck (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

“Are you okay?” Kathleen’s voice was almost unintelligible against the background hubbub of the bar. Then the noise cut out, replaced by the softer sound of vehicle traffic. She must have stepped outside.

“I’m…coping. How’s your new gig?”

“Shut the front door with that. What happened?”

Alicia covered her eyes with one hand. “It’s complicated.”

“You want to come out? Meet us? We’re at a new place at the Navy Yard.”

“That’s sweet. But no, I don’t think I can cope with that many people.”

“How about we bring the party to you?” Kathleen’s voice was soft, concerned.

Alicia pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m no fun right now.”

“You don’t have to be fun. We can have a pity party.”

Wendy’s voice said something in the background and then she came on the phone. “Alicia, do we have to kick that guy’s ass?” If Alicia hadn’t been so miserable, she would have laughed out loud at the normally quiet, calm Wendy threatening to go all Captain Marvel and fight on her behalf.

“No. I broke up with him. Do you need to kick my ass now?”

“What did he do to you?” There was a pause, then a muffled sound. “Never mind, Kathleen says we’re on our way over.”

Alicia examined her automatic reflex to say no, to be on her own. But she missed Wendy and Kathleen in a way she didn’t know how to resist. “Okay. I don’t have any food in the house, though. If you haven’t eaten, you’re going to starve.”

“Leave all that to us. We’ll be over in less than an hour. And Alicia?”

“Yeah?”

“Hang in there.”

Colin set his takeout container on the countertop and fetched a fork from a drawer. Sitting on a stool, he opened the container and started to shovel lasagna into his mouth.

Too low even to cook. That’s new.

He glanced around the kitchen. A glass was on the counter, unsorted mail beside it. Finishing the lasagna, he threw away the container and dropped the fork in the sink. So many things he couldn’t be bothered with just now. He would tidy up later.

With dragging steps, he went up to his bedroom and changed out of his suit into shorts and a tee shirt. He didn’t want to go running. He didn’t want to do anything.

Enough. Stop wallowing, you miserable berk.

Coming to a decision, he moved to the tiny bedroom he had repurposed as an office at the front of the house. Digging through his desk, he found an old box of stationery, opened it, and pulled out a sheet. He looked at the blank page for a few moments before uncapping his fountain pen.

Dear Alicia,

He stared out the window, tapping the heavy pen against his lips.

“You’ve brought an entire grocery store to my house,” Alicia said, looking at Kathleen and Wendy on her doorstep. Each of them had two plastic grocery bags. The neck of a bottle was sticking out of the tote bag hanging from Kathleen’s shoulder.

Kathleen shrugged, brushing a kiss on Alicia’s cheek as she walked past her into the apartment. “We didn’t know what kind of girl you are when it comes to misery. So, we brought all the things.”

“All the things?” Alicia said as she closed the door after Wendy.

“Cute place,” Kathleen said, heading straight for the little kitchen. “Yes. All the things.” She placed the bags on the counter and reached into her tote, pulling out the bottle. “Whiskey.” She put it on the counter and delved into the grocery bags. “Ice cream, several flavors. Potato chips. Chocolate.”

Wendy followed suit. “Red wine. Popcorn, Oreo cookies, pudding, and boxed macaroni and cheese.”

Alicia blinked. “That’s…quite the recipe. Straight out of a bad Nancy Meyers movie.”

“It’s a fucking cliché, but comfort food brings comfort for a reason,” Kathleen said. “So, what’s your poison?”

Alicia considered the array of high-calorie items spread across her countertop and thought about the nude scene that she still might have to shoot.

Fuck it.

“I guess…red wine and chocolate chocolate-chunk ice cream.”

“The lady has excellent taste,” Kathleen said. “Where’s your corkscrew?”

Colin pushed back from his desk with a frustrated snort and paced around the little room. “‘Write her a letter,’ he said. ‘It’ll be easy,’ he said. I’m not Mr. bloody Darcy, Russell.” He glanced back at the desk. He had, at least, gotten marginally more intelligent and stopped using the good stationery after his first attempt. The subsequent drafts on pages from a yellow legal pad nearly covered the wooden surface.

Striking the right balance was impossible. He wanted her to know how bereft he was without her, how much he missed her. At the same time, he didn’t want her to feel he was pressuring her. He had to make sure she knew he hadn’t decided in the intervening time that her conclusions about their respective backgrounds were correct. That he still had hope. That they still had a connection.

Wait. He rubbed his chin, thinking about the first thing that had connected them. He went over to the little bookshelf at the other end of the room and pulled out a volume, paging through it. Bringing it back to the desk, he laid it down and picked up his pen again.

“…So that’s the whole story,” Alicia said, digging her spoon into the ice cream carton. She was on the sofa, bookended by her friends. Wendy had a glass of wine, and Kathleen sipped whiskey. Bowls of sweet and salty snacks littered the coffee table.

Wendy laid her hand on Alicia’s knee, squeezing. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, but…” Kathleen’s lips clipped shut at Wendy’s glare.

“But what?” Alicia asked.

“But nothing. Gentle Wendy’s going to skin me.” Kathleen sipped her drink, eyes comically wide.

Wendy made a “tch” sound and turned back to Alicia. “Why are you so convinced the two of you wouldn’t work? It sounds like it was pretty good up until the whole…thing about the nude scene. And it sounds like he fumbled the catch, but made it right in the end.”

Alicia put