The Way We Feel

Chapter 30

"Harry, wait up!"

It was the last voice I wanted to hear.

"Hey," she said, breathless as she caught up to me.

Vanessa smiled when I turned sideways to face her, and I was forced to slow down as she did.

"Um," she started, glancing down at her feet, tangling her fingers together in front of her. Her hair was still pulled back in a ponytail, and she was still in costume. She breathed a laugh. "Sorry, I know you probably want to get out of here."

When I didn't say anything—unable to given how uncomfortable it was having to talk to her when I'd successfully avoided it for the last three days—she went on, "But I just wanted to apologize. The other day, when I asked you to rehearse—"

"Vanessa, you don't have to."

"I feel like I do."

An apology was the last thing I needed from her. The last thing I wanted from her.

What I really wanted was to forget the other day had happened altogether. Which was why I'd spent the last few days since avoiding her at all costs—dodging her at catering, only standing near her when we were shooting or when we were discussing a scene, barely looking her in the eye at all, not because she'd done anything wrong, but because I had, and I didn't want to know what she thought about it.

So, avoiding conversation with her had seemed like my best option.

Until now. When she was forcing the issue. And we both knew I'd been steering clear of her.

It made me feel even guiltier.

"You don't," I said, glancing towards the parking lot to my right. So close. "And I'd really better be going, so if you'll—"

"Just... let me get this out," she said, reaching a hand out to stop me without touching me.

I stood still, felt my patience waning, and promised myself I wouldn't take it out on her.

I'd already taken enough out on her.

"I'm just—I'm really sorry for the other day. When I asked you to rehearse, I truly had no intentions of, um... well, making you uncomfortable, I guess—"

I was squirming, barely able to stand still, torn between wanting to tell her that she hadn't and not wanting to admit to her that it was all me, she had nothing to do with it.

"—and I respect you, and I respect your wife and your family, and I feel terrible that things have been so strained between us these last couple of days, so I wanted you to know how very sorry I am for everything, and I never—"

"Vanessa," I said, needing her to stop. I couldn't take it anymore.

She only looked at me, eyes wide.

I tried to smile, but I truly didn't know what to say. "Thank you, but... this is unnecessary."

She hung her head, and her brown eyes didn't meet mine when she looked up again. "It sort of feels like it is."

This time, I hung my head, unable to face her like this. Not wanting to recall the way I'd been acting, the way I'd been feeling these last few days since we'd shared that kiss in her dressing room. They had been days of feeling guilt and a tremendous amount of sadness, loneliness, and a deep, deep frustration—anger with myself.

And I didn't know what to do with it. How to make it go away or end. It felt like there was nothing that would make up for the damage done—to Vanessa or to Mads. And it was all my fault, not theirs.