by Ally Decker
The day dragged impossibly slow. Every time they called a break, Greg would rush to check his phone under the watchful eye of everyone around him, but it wasn't until they finished for the day that he found two missed calls from his agent.
He hit redial with a pounding heart.
"You're free," she said before greetings. That was why she was worth every single dollar he was paying her. Possibly more.
Greg sat down on the closest seat, his legs suddenly a little wobbly. "You sure?"
She snorted. "Yes, I'm sure. The contract specifies the end of the day as the end of the business hours on the West Coast, but I got the call early. I think we weren't the only ones who figured Marlow was messing with you, and they felt bad. But whatever the reason, it's done. You're free." He could hear her smiling into the phone, and he laughed, refusing to acknowledge the edge of hysteria in it.
"That's… I can't even tell you."
"I have a pretty good idea," she told him. "Listen, I'm really happy for you, and I'm sure you'll be great. I'll be flying down to see it, so you better be."
He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."
"Good. Now, go celebrate with the girlfriend. Bye."
Greg couldn't stop grinning. The huge weight that had been crushing him to the ground was suddenly gone, and he almost couldn't believe it. Weeks of waiting for the ax to fall, and now there was no ax. He was free to do what he wanted, he was free to stay in New York, and play on Broadway, and—
And be with Sylvia.
Greg needed to get out of here fast.
He relayed the news to the cast and crew and spent a few minutes celebrating with them, but his mind was miles away already, and he excused himself quickly. He couldn't wait to get to Sylvia.
He just needed to make a short stop on the way.
***
During his frequent visits to the F.Y.U. office, Greg had met some of the people working in other offices as they'd waited together for the elevator or rode in one. They'd never talked to him—usually they hadn't even paid him any attention.
This time, though, he was drawing a lot of stares, but not because of who he was. Everyone was looking at the big bouquet he was holding—so big that he couldn't wrap his fingers all the way around it.
A tall, elegant woman with the kind of natural gray hair Greg would never see in Hollywood smiled at him when they were the last two people in the elevator. "She's a lucky woman."
"I'm a lucky man," Greg told her, and she nodded, patting him on the arm as the door opened on her floor. "Good answer."
Greg grinned the rest of the way up, and when he arrived at the right floor, he walked into the office with a smile still on his face. He dropped it when he noticed Sylvia's desk was empty and the only person there was Nate, who raised his eyebrows at the sight of him and the flowers.
"Fancy meeting you here."
Greg looked at the empty chair again. "I'm here for Sylvia."
"Pity, I really thought the flowers were for me," Nate told him dryly. "Any good news to share, perhaps?"
He nodded. He really, really wanted to tell Sylvia first, but he wasn't going to leave Nate hanging. "Great news, even."
That got him a smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Good for you. But Sylvia's with Dean and Kevin." Nate tilted his head down the hall. "They needed a translator, and she's fluent in French."
Before Greg could say anything, his phone started ringing in his pocket and he winced, looking around. He didn't want Sylvia to come in and see him with the flowers and on the phone.
Nate seemed to pick up on it, because he gestured to his office, which was the closest. "Hide there and take your call, I'll go bug Shawn a bit."
Greg went into Nate's office and put down the flowers on the nearest chair before pulling out his phone and seeing his publicist's ID.
"Hi, Mike."
"Hey, congratulations on being a free man again."
Greg sat back on the couch, straightening his legs in front of him. "Thanks. I have to say, it feels amazing."
"I bet," Mike said, but then he grunted like he did every time he was about to say something he wasn't sure Greg was going to like, and that made Greg tense again.
"What is it?"
"Marlow called me."
Greg frowned. "What?" He thought they were through. What the hell was that guy doing?
"He claimed he saw that article that came out today and it got him thinking—"
"You can't be serious."
"I wish. He basically said that he knew there was bad blood between the two of you and he wished to mend fences. Starting with, as he said, doing everything he could to help you rekindle your relationship with Janice—"
"There's no relationship!" Greg protested, rubbing the back of his neck. This was ridiculous.
"I know that. I told him you weren't interested, but he insisted on me at least relaying the message."
"What the hell?"
Mike snorted. "I don't know."
"Whatever, I don't care. I'm not going to be dragged into a relationship against my will." Especially when I'm already in one.
"Okay, okay, I get it. Don't shoot the messenger. I only wanted to let you know."
Greg stood up and turned to stare at the view of New York through the wall windows in Nate's office. This entire conversation was bizarre, and he needed to end it. "Fine. I guess I need to consult a lawyer, check if there's any chance of enforcing Dot to get Marlow as far away from me as possible, because that's beyond insane. But I'll take care of this later. Right now, I need to go."
After they said their goodbyes, Greg disconnected and put his phone back into his pocket. He rolled his shoulders and tried to regain his good mood. He was free, and that was all that mattered.
Something clattered out in the foyer and he rushed out of Nate's office to see Sylvia, who froze when she caught his gaze. Her purse was on the floor, about half the contents spread around her feet.
Before he could say or do anything, she grabbed her bag from the floor and almost sprinted out the front door of the office.
Greg froze in place and watched through tinted glass as she bypassed the elevator and went for the stairs. What just happened?
"What the hell did you do?" came a male voice from his left. Kevin, the company's computer specialist, stood with his arms crossed against his chest. He was usually pretty upbeat, but now he looked like he was considering punching Greg if he didn't like his answer.
"I don't—" Greg frowned. "I came to tell her I'm free. I brought flowers and…" He shook his head. On the other side of the corridor, the door opened, and he didn't need to turn to know Nate and Shawn were listening now, too.
Kevin raised his eyebrows. "And what?"
"And nothing. I came here, she was busy. I'd have waited out here, but I had to take a phone call, and Nate let me use his office." Greg stared at the front door, wishing Sylvia would come back. He wanted a do-over without that stupid call. "I was in here for a few minutes, and I heard something hit the floor, so I figured she was probably back, but the second she saw me, she ran." Greg looked down at Sylvia's stuff, still lying on the floor next to her desk. "I don't know what I did," he added quietly.
"She was fine less than five minutes ago." Kevin shoved his hands into his pockets, no longer looking as he was about to punch him. "Could she have overheard something she wouldn't like?"
"I don't…" And then it hit him. "Oh fuck."
He ran after her, ignoring Kevin and the other guys. He needed to get to Sylvia.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SYLVIA HURRIED down the stairs as if someone was chasing her. He won't, he doesn't care. She was glad no one was around to see her like this. The last thing she wanted now was for anyone to see her cry, and there was no stopping the tears from falling.
Everything was blurry, and she was getting out of breath, both from running and the crying, so she finally paused on the second floor, dropping down on the last step.
And because the universe didn't hate her
enough, that was also the moment the door to the stairwell opened and a petite woman with black, curly hair appeared, one hand tightened on a pen she was clicking on and off, over and over. She froze when she saw Sylvia and, for a few seconds, they simply stared at each other without a word.
Then the woman looked down at her pen and dropped it into her bag before pulling out tissues.
"Here," she said quietly, handing them to Sylvia.
"Thanks."
Sylvia knew she was going to be embarrassed tomorrow, but for now, she suddenly didn't have it in her to care. She focused on trying to stop the flood of tears and hopefully get herself together enough to go back home.
But it was hard when Greg's conversation played over and over in her head.
There's no relationship. The words alone would be enough to hurt her, to crush her hopes, but the vehemence with which he'd said it was even worse.
At least you have your answer, she told herself. At least you know now. Greg didn't want anything from her anymore.
Sylvia scrunched the tissue into a ball and took out another one. She had to get a hold of herself. She needed to stop feeling like he'd just cracked her open and stomped over her damn heart. Like the idea of the relationship with her was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.
She should have known, though. Maybe that was the worst part. Sylvia had always thought of herself as smart, but she hadn't been acting like it around Greg—from the moment they met. And somewhere along the way, she'd let herself believe in a fairytale ending after all—she'd let herself believe what they'd had could actually be real.
While it was only real to her.
"Take your time and everything," the woman's voice pulled Sylvia back to the present, "but if you need a cab, I can get it for you and arrange for it to park in the back so you wouldn't have to—"
The door screeched open on the ground level, and the woman fell silent, taking a step toward Sylvia as if she wanted to shield her. Sylvia's heart, that had been starting to finally slow down, quickened again. She didn't want to see anyone.
She hid her face against her knees and prayed whoever it was would pass them by. She didn't want to be the talk of the building. Or—her stomach clenched at the mere thought—the talk of the entire Internet, if the story got out.
The steps were slow, and Sylvia bit her lower lip, pressing her forehead against her knees and looping her arms around her legs. Pretend you don't see me. Pretend you don't see me—
"Sylvia." Greg's voice was quiet, but she could hear a sad relief in that one word, and the lump in her throat grew bigger.
He was probably relieved that she didn't run outside, that nobody had seen her.
She shook her head without lifting it.
"Sylvia, please—"Greg's voice sounded apologetic, and she shut her eyes.
No. No, no, no. Don't fall for it. Don't do it.
"I don't think she wants to talk to you right now," the woman spoke up, still standing right in front of Sylvia, and Sylvia felt immensely grateful.
"I'm sorry, but this is important," Greg said. "I swear it's a misunderstanding, okay?"
She almost choked. Of course it is.
"I wasn't talking about you," he went on. "What you heard… I was talking with my publicist. Marlow wants me to get back with my ex, a co-star. He probably thinks it's good for publicity or whatever, but I don't care. That's what you heard, I don't want a relationship with her."
At first, Sylvia tried not to listen, but as he went on, she couldn't help it. The hope she'd exiled to a deep corner somewhere inside her only a few minutes ago raised its head again and kept growing and growing as his voice got quieter.
"I came here to tell you that the time's up, that Dot can't force me to leave anymore."
She sagged against the railing with relief, despite everything. He was free. He didn't have to pretend anything.
"When I got the news, you were the first person I wanted to tell. I wanted to share it with you—share how good it felt to not have to worry, to finally feel like I can breathe right. I wanted to celebrate it with you, not…push you away," Greg continued, squatting a few feet away from her. "I don't need to…do what we've been doing anymore, but I do want to keep seeing you. Because what we had…it was real. To me. It was real to me. And I was hoping—"
Sylvia lifted her head and brushed the last tears off her face. When she turned to him, his face crumpled. She had to look really bad, but he didn't say anything. He shifted closer, dropped to one knee right in front of her—the mystery woman had moved to the side during his speech—and gathered her in his arms.
"Shit, I'm sorry," he whispered as she tried to catch her breath with her forehead resting against his chest and her arms trapped between their bodies.
When she was sure her voice would hold up, she sneaked her hands to rest on his hips and whispered back against his skin, "It was a misunderstanding."
"Yes, but I'm still sorry." Greg pulled back slightly and grasped her face in both hands, thumbs running over her cheeks, probably brushing off tears or her running mascara. "I should've made sure you knew my intentions before now, but I didn't want to…" He kissed her on the forehead and chuckled humorlessly before moving back again to catch her gaze. "I've had this perfect plan, you know. I'd get the news and tell you right away and then ask you to a romantic dinner to celebrate. Then we'd talk about us, and I'd tell you that I want to do this, that I feel we've been already building something, but I didn't want to discuss it until we… I wanted there to be no doubt that I'm doing it for us, not for any other reason." He paused with a frown. "I didn't fully realize how difficult it must have been for you. I screwed up, and I'm sorry. I should've told you that being with you made me happy, made me almost forget to be worried."
Sylvia cleared her throat and tightened her grip on his hips, blinking rapidly. "You make me happy, too," she admitted quietly.
His grin made her heart stutter, and she could feel herself smiling in kind before Greg leaned in and kissed her. It was soft at first, barely there, as if he was checking if it was okay, but she pulled him closer and opened up for his tongue. What followed was possibly the greatest kiss of her life. They moved as if they could hear each other's minds, in sync, pulling closer and pushing back, slow one second only to speed things up the next.
At some point, Sylvia heard a soft click of the door and guessed that the woman who'd helped her had left. Hopefully, she wasn't going to tell anyone about any of this, but even if she did, Sylvia couldn't find it in herself to care right now. All she wanted, all she needed, was right here in her arms.
And it was enough to make her happy.
***
At some point they went back to the office, so Sylvia could use the bathroom and the whole F.Y.U. crew wouldn't launch the rescue party or go after Greg for making her cry.
Luckily, even her brother realized quickly that there was nothing to rescue her from, and they left them be, only sending Greg warning looks as he and Sylvia walked out of there again.
In the car, she leaned close against him, holding his hand and grinning as they drove through the city. The air was full of the heady scent of the bouquet, and Sylvia admired it now as it sat to her left.
"Thank you for the flowers," she said quietly.
Greg lifted their joined hands to kiss her fingers. "My pleasure."
They shared small touches and brief kisses, but Sylvia's body was almost buzzing with energy. After the whirlwind of emotions of the last hour, the adrenaline was still pumping in her veins, and she couldn't wait to get home.
Now that she knew Greg wanted her, really wanted her, there was nothing stopping her.
When they finally arrived home, she pulled Greg onto the couch and straddled his lap, and they kissed again, long and deep. Sylvia's skirt rode up high enough that it barely covered anything. Greg ran his hands over her ass and dipped between her legs. He pushed her panties to the side and slipped one of his fingers into her without needing to take off he
r underwear. She shuddered and reached for his belt. She had never had sex with her panties still on, and now she was almost shaking with want and need to have him in her right now. He was hard under her hand as she pulled Greg's cock out of his pants. She rose onto her knees a little as he pushed her up to get the condom out of his pocket.
Greg slipped two fingers into her, and she shuddered, catching his head in both hands to regain her balance. Soon enough, she was lowering herself onto his cock, taking him as deep as she could. One of his hands was on her ass, the other at the back of her neck, keeping her in place as he kissed her in tune with his fast and hard thrusts. She ran her fingertips behind his ears, scratching from time to time and eliciting a groan she could swallow right off his lips.
She came quickly and fell, boneless, against Greg. She shivered as he followed her over the edge after a few more thrusts, clenching his grip on her as he did so. She was pretty sure she was going to have marks on her ass from his fingers, and she almost came the second time just thinking about it.
It took them a while to move apart, but then they showered quickly and ordered food. When the delivery guy finally arrived and left, Sylvia threw down every pillow from the living room onto the floor, and they lounged with their backs against the couch with wine and dinner.
They shared food and lazy kisses, and Sylvia was on her second glass of wine when Greg turned to face her completely.
"That conversation I planned to have with you," he said, head resting on his hand with his elbow on the couch. "We've already said most of it, I think, but there are two more things I wanted to tell you."
Sylvia put her glass down and mirrored his position, smiling when his warm and open gaze told her it was nothing to worry about.
"Two?" she prompted when Greg didn't say anything else for a minute.
"The first one is about my Broadway project," he said. "It's Illuminations."
Sylvia blinked. And blinked again.
"You're doing Illuminations?" Her voice got at least an octave higher than usual, but she was… Greg was going to play in the best musical of the season, maybe the best in recent years. "Who are you going to be?"