14. Eden

14

EDEN

E den lay huddled on her bed in the same spot she’d occupied for almost the entire day, a blanket wrapped tightly around her shoulders like armour against the world. The silence of her empty flat, broken only by the occasional rumble of traffic from the street below, was both a sanctuary and a bitter kind of solitude. She stared blankly at the wall, her eyes puffy and stinging from an almost impossible amount of crying.

Her phone lay hidden in the depths of her wardrobe, deliberately discarded and silenced. She couldn't bear to look at it, knowing the screen would be lit up with missed calls and increasingly frantic messages. From the theatre, from her castmates, from Genevieve . . .

The thought of her runaway lover sent a fresh wave of pain crashing over her. Eden squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories of the night before. The warmth of Genevieve's skin, the almost-feral passion in her touch, the way she'd looked at Eden as if she were the most precious thing in the world. And then the shock, the fear, the rejection that had followed Eden's ill-timed confession.

A sudden, loud knocking jolted Eden from her miserable reverie. She froze, hoping that if she stayed perfectly still, whoever it was would assume she wasn't home and leave. But the knocking only grew more insistent, now accompanied by a familiar voice.

"Eden! I know you're in there! Open up or I swear I'll call a locksmith!"

Eden groaned. Amanda. Of course it would be Amanda. Her friend had an uncanny ability to rob her of the chance to suffer in peace.

Dragging her sorry ass down the hallway and toward the front door, Eden muttered to herself that she maybe she needed new friends with less of a penchant for theatrics. She’d barely had the chance to take the chain off the door before Amanda burst inside, a whirlwind of patchouli perfume and righteous indignation.

"What the hell are you thinking?" Amanda demanded, not even bothering with a greeting. She stalked further inside and planted herself in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, glaring at Eden with a mixture of concern and exasperation.

Eden wrapped herself tighter in her blanket cocoon and flopped down onto the couch, wishing she could disappear into it entirely. "I’m not really in the mood for thinking," she mumbled, her voice hoarse from sobbing.

But Amanda was having none of it. She marched over to the couch and yanked the blanket away, ignoring Eden's protests. "Oh no, you don't get to hide from this. Do you have any idea what's been happening? The entire theatre world is buzzing about your disappearing act!"

Eden flinched at her words, a fresh wave of guilt washing over her. She'd been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil that she hadn't stopped to consider the wider implications of her absence.

Amanda's expression softened slightly as she took in Eden's dishevelled appearance. She perched on the edge of the coffee table, leaning in close. "Honey, what happened? Everything’s been so good with you these past few weeks."

Eden swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I . . . I messed up, Mands. I messed up so badly."

Amanda reached out, taking Eden's hand in hers. "Surely it can’t be as bad as all this. Did something happen with Genevieve?"

The sound of Genevieve's name was like a knife to Eden's heart. She took a shuddering breath, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. "We were rehearsing late last night. And we sorta got carried away . . . like on the stage. And it was . . . God, Mands, it was magical. And Genevieve was looking at me like . . ."

She trailed off, lost in the memory. Amanda watched her beneath a raised eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like I was everything she'd ever wanted," Eden whispered. "And I thought . . . I thought maybe . . ."

Amanda nodded, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You thought it meant something more than just the sex."

Eden nodded miserably. "I told her I love her, Mands. Like an idiot, I just blurted it out. And she . . . she completely shut down. She looked at me like I'd grown a second head, and then she just . . . left. Ran away like I had the plague or something."

"Oh, sweetie," Amanda murmured, moving to sit beside Eden on the couch and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry."

Eden leaned into her friend's embrace, grateful for the comfort. "I woke up this morning and just couldn’t face her. I couldn’t bear to watch her act like nothing had happened. So I just . . . didn’t. I turned off my phone and hid like a coward."

Amanda was quiet for a moment, processing every sordid detail. Then she sighed heavily. "Eden, I understand why you hid. I do. But do you have any idea the mess you’ve left in your wake?"

Eden looked up, confused by the accusation. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Amanda said slowly, "that you didn't just miss a regular rehearsal. You missed the tech run. The whole thing apparently went to hell in a handbasket without you there."

Eden's eyes widened in horror. "The tech run? That was today?"

Amanda nodded grimly. "And from what I've heard, it was an absolute disaster. And Genevieve . . . well, let's just say that people are saying they've never seen her so rattled."

The full weight of what she'd done came crashing down on Eden. She'd been so caught up in her own emotional turmoil that she'd completely forgotten about the tech run. The most important rehearsal before opening night, and she'd missed it entirely.

"Oh God," she whispered, burying her face in her hands. "What have I done?"

Amanda rubbed her back soothingly. "It's bad, Eden. I won't lie to you. People are talking. There are all sorts of rumours flying around about why you didn't show up. Some people are saying you had a nervous breakdown, others are saying you and Genevieve had some kind of blowout fight."

Eden looked up sharply at that. "They know about me and Genevieve?"

Amanda shook her head. "Not exactly. But people aren't blind, honey. There's been speculation for weeks about the two of you. Your disappearance today just added fuel to the fire."

Eden groaned, sinking back against the couch cushions. "This is a nightmare. I've ruined everything, haven't I? My career, the show, any chance I ever had with Genevieve . . ."

"Hey, now," Amanda said firmly, giving Eden's shoulder a gentle shake. "Nothing's ruined yet. But you need to tell me exactly what's going through that head of yours. And don't just say it’s all about what happened with Genevieve. I know you, Eden. You’ve waited your whole life for an opportunity like this production. There’s more to it than a bruised ego."

Eden was quiet for a long while, struggling to put her jumbled thoughts into words. Finally, she spoke, laying all her insecurities bare for the one person she knew wouldn’t judge her for them. "I was scared. Not just of facing Genevieve, but of facing all of them. I kept thinking about how I'd probably let everyone down, how I wasn't good enough for this role in the first place. From day one I’ve . . . I’ve felt totally out of my depth, and it’s only partially to do with the whole banging-my-director thing."

Amanda listened intently, her brow furrowed in concern for her friend. Eden's voice trembled as she continued her confession, tears threatening to spill over once more. "It was like everything just came crashing down at once. I'd been fumbling through day by day, pretending I wasn’t completely overwhelmed . . . like I could handle it all. And then in that one moment, I just felt like a child . . . like I had no business being there at all. I mean, how can I call myself a professional? A grown woman, even? I practically begged Genevieve to sleep with me because I thought a little bloody life experience would make me a better actress!"

"Just because Genevieve didn’t reciprocate your feelings, doesn’t mean you’re some giant doughnut, Eden. And we’re all fumbling through this crazy life in one way or another. How can you be so hard on yourself?"

Eden shook her head, wiping at her damp eyes with the back of her hand. "It wasn't just that. It was . . . it was the way she looked at me. Like I was delusional. And suddenly, I started doubting my own damn mind."

She took a shuddering breath, her words coming faster now as if a dam had broken. "I came home and all I kept thinking about was all the times Genevieve had to correct me, all the scenes we had to redo because I wasn't quite getting it right. And I started wondering if maybe she'd made a mistake casting me. If maybe she’d just been humouring me this whole time because I was this pathetic girl falling at her feet."

Amanda opened her mouth to protest, but Eden pressed on, her voice rising with emotion. "The show is better off without me, Mands. I see that now. Mara will do a much better job as Beatrice. She's been there for every rehearsal, she knows the part inside and out. She won't let her stupid feelings get in the way of the performance."

"Eden, stop," Amanda said firmly, gripping her friend's chin and forcing her to meet her gaze. "Listen to me. You are not a mistake. You were cast in this role because you are talented, because you bring something unique and special to the character. One moment of vulnerability doesn't erase all of that."

But Eden was shaking her head, resigned to drowning beneath the crushing weight of her own failings. "You don't understand. I'm not up to this task. I'm not the lead actress everyone thought I could be. I'm just . . . me. And that's not enough. Not for this show, not for Genevieve, not for anyone."

Amanda's expression hardened, fierce determination replacing her earlier concern. "All right, that's enough of this pity party. You want to know what I understand? I understand that the tech rehearsal today was an absolute trainwreck without you there. Mara sucked, and Genevieve was pulling her hair out. The damn president of the company was having a coronary in the front row."

Eden blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Amanda's tone. "What?"

"You heard me," Amanda pressed. "I've got friends in the crew, remember? They told me everything. The understudy was a mess, stumbling over her lines and completely lacking the passion you bring to Beatrice. The other actors seemed lost without you there to play off of. Even the tech aspects were off because they couldn't get the timing right without your performance to guide them."

Eden listened in stunned silence as Amanda recounted the day's events as she’d heard them through the theatrical grapevine.

"But that's not even the worst part," Amanda went on. "Apparently, Genevieve was completely thrown off her game, she had no idea how to bring the whole thing back from the brink. People are saying they've never seen her like that before. Distracted, irritable, constantly checking her phone. She was a far cry from the cool, collected legend everyone's used to seeing. She didn’t even give Mara notes, just pulled her aside to ask if she knew where you were!"

A small flicker of hope ignited in Eden's chest at Amanda's words, but she quickly squashed it down. "That doesn't mean anything," she muttered. "She was probably just worried about the production falling apart."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Or maybe, just maybe, she was worried about you. Did that ever cross your mind?"

Eden shook her head stubbornly. "It doesn't matter. The point is, I’m a fraud and a coward and I've ruined everything. They’re probably going to scrap the whole thing before it even gets to opening night."

"Are you even listening to yourself right now?" Amanda exploded, jumping to her feet and beginning to pace the small living room. "Eden, this is your big break! The role you've been dreaming of, and working toward for years. Are you really going to throw it all away?"

Eden flinched at Amanda's words, but a spark of anger flared in her chest. "Maybe it’s time I give up on this dream! I’m clearly not cut out for it!"

Amanda stopped pacing and turned to face Eden with her hands on her hips. "So that's it then? You're just going to give up? Let Mara take the role and fade into obscurity?"

"Maybe that's for the best," Eden mumbled, but there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice now.

"For the best?" Amanda repeated incredulously. "Eden, do you have any idea how many actors would kill for this opportunity? How many people dream of working with Genevieve Howard and never get the chance? And you're just going to walk away from it all because you're scared that you’re not up to the task? I’ll be real with you, hon, that reeks of spite."

Eden opened her mouth to argue, but Amanda pressed on relentlessly. "No, you don't get to speak right now. You're going to listen to me, Eden Rowley. You are talented. You are passionate. You are exactly what this production needs. And if you throw it all away because you're too afraid to face your feelings, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

Tears were streaming down Eden's face now, but Amanda wasn't finished. "I know you're hurt. I know you're scared. But you can't let that fear control you. You have to face this head-on, Eden. You have to fight for what you want."

"But what if I can't?" Eden squeaked. "What if I can't face Genevieve? What if I've already ruined everything beyond repair?"

Amanda blew out a frustrated sigh. She knelt in front of Eden, taking her hands in her own. "Then at least you'll know you tried. But you can't give up without a fight, Eden. You owe it to yourself, to the cast and crew who've been working their asses off, and yes, even to Genevieve, to see this through."

Eden sniffled. Part of her wanted nothing more than to burrow back under her blanket and hide from the world. But another part, a part that sounded suspiciously like Beatrice, was urging her to stand up. To fight. To reclaim what she'd worked so hard for.

"I don't know if I can do it, Mands," she admitted, her voice small and weak. "I don't know if I'm strong enough."

Amanda cupped Eden’s cheeks with both hands. "You are stronger than you know, darling. And you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, and I bet if you gave them a chance, the rest of the cast would be too. You just have to take that first step."

Eden nodded slowly, a tiny spark of determination kindling in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond. To tell Amanda that maybe, just maybe, she was right. But before she could speak, a sharp knock at the door made them both jump.

Eden and Amanda exchanged startled glances, the sudden intrusion shattering the intensity of their conversation. Eden's heart began to race, a mix of hope and dread swirling in her stomach. Could it be?

"I'll get it," Amanda said softly, squeezing Eden's face before rising to her feet. She moved toward the door, pausing to peer through the peephole. Eden watched anxiously as Amanda's eyes widened, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise.

Amanda turned back to Eden, her expression a mix of shock and something else - excitement, maybe? "It's her," she mouthed silently.

Eden felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She shook her head frantically, panic rising in her chest. "I can't," she whispered. "Mands, please, I can't face her right now. Look at me!"

But Amanda was already reaching for the doorknob, a determined set to her jaw. "You can, and you will," she said firmly. "This is your chance, Eden. Don't waste it."

Before Eden could protest further, Amanda swung the door open, revealing Genevieve Howard standing in the hallway.

Eden's breath caught in her throat. Genevieve looked . . . different. Gone was the perfectly put-together director Eden was used to seeing. Instead, Genevieve's hair was slightly dishevelled, as if she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly. Her usually impeccable clothes were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes that even her expertly applied makeup couldn't fully conceal.

For a moment, no one spoke. Genevieve's gaze moved past Amanda and locked with Eden's, and Eden felt as if she were falling all over again into the dark abyss behind those pupils.

Amanda cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "I was just leaving," she announced, grabbing her purse from where she'd tossed it on the coffee table. She shot Eden a meaningful look as she edged past Genevieve. "Remember what I said," she murmured, and then she was gone, leaving Eden and Genevieve alone.