Chapter 15: Round Two

Troy went still under her cheek.

"Forty times," he said.

"I'm not proud of it."

"Why would you watch it once?"

"Giselle's post was everywhere. I watched you stand there and not break, and I wanted to know how you did it."

"I broke."

"You walked out, Troy. That's different."

He said nothing for a while, and then he tightened his arm around her.

"Did you find out how?"

"No," Molly said. "But I found your door."

He laughed, and she felt it through his ribs.

The premiere was on Thursday, and Celia insisted on going.

"You're supposed to be in bed," Troy said in the car.

"I'll be in bed all weekend. I want twenty minutes on that carpet."

"Then I'm coming."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Molly had texted him at noon.

"Go knock him down. Not literally. Okay, a little literally."

He had laughed out loud in the hallway, and then he had caught himself.

The red carpet stretched a hundred feet under white lights, with a wall of cameras at the far end.

Dane Ostrow stood in front of the poster in a white tuxedo.

A fresh plaster was taped to his forehead, and he was smiling for the lenses.

Greta stood two steps behind him, with her arm out of the sling and her eyes everywhere.

Troy pushed the wheelchair up to the first rope.

Celia put both hands on the armrests and stood.

He felt it in his own legs, how much it cost her.

He put a hand under her elbow, and she let him.

The cameras swung toward her at once.

"Ms. Wainright!" someone shouted. "Ms. Wainright, are you here for Dane?"

"I'm here for the truth," Celia said.

She walked up the carpet slowly, with Troy beside her.

Dane saw her coming and his smile slipped.

"Celia, darling," he said. "You shouldn't be up."

"Mr. Ostrow." She turned to the cameras. "I'd like to correct the record about your accident."

"Celia..."

"On my wedding day, Mr. Ostrow told this city he was rushed to the emergency room with a head injury."

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