Kylie might have snapped the eye pencil she was holding, too. But she told herself that it was brittle and probably needed to be replaced, and stuck it back in one of her makeup totes. Goddamn cheap cosmetics. She fussed with her things, trying not to pay attention to Daphne and Cade. After all, she didn’t care if they kissed or got chummy, right? She was going with Cade tonight, but only because he was blackmailing her.

It’d be just one night.

Then she could convince him of the annulment and they could both be on their way.

—

The only reason Cade let Daphne kiss his cheeks was because he loved seeing the mutinous expression cross Kylie’s face. She might have been trying to hide their relationship from the world, but one only had to look at her aghast expression to see how pissed she was at Daphne’s actions.

And really, Daphne was just being Daphne. Exuberant, silly, and charming.

She planted another smacking kiss on his cheek. “Look at you! Mister Sexy. Nice suit.” Daphne grinned, wiping at a smear of pink lipstick she left on his collar. Then she shrugged and threw her arms around his neck again. “I missed you! About time you came to see me again.”

Daphne was beaming so happily, her mood good. And Kylie was glaring, tossing makeup into one of her big containers as if it were full of poison. It made him feel curiously gleeful to see Kylie get moody and jealous for a change. She was the one that didn’t want to say anything to Daphne, after all. And because she didn’t, he had to continue the farce that he was here for Daphne, when he was only here for his new wife. So he put a fake smile on his face. “Yep. How was the show?”

“Didn’t you watch? I got two ovations.” She pouted and then flung herself off of him. “I need a towel, too. I’m fucking bathing in sweat here.”

“Do you want to take your makeup off?” Kylie asked, her voice so carefully neutral that it made Cade grin, because he knew she was seething inside.

“Soon, Fat Marilyn. My boo here doesn’t mind if I’m a little sweaty, right, babe?” And she winked at Cade.

Fuck. There was that Fat Marilyn comment again. “Daphne, that name’s not appropriate and you know it.”

“Boo?” She tilted her head at him. Before he could correct her, he watched as her face suddenly crumpled and she began to sob.

Kylie shot him an alarmed look, and Snoopy rushed to Daphne’s side. The entire greenroom got quiet.

Everyone waited, tense, as Daphne scrubbed at her face, weeping. No one knew what to do. It was completely out of the blue. And everyone hesitated, because they were afraid that one wrong word would turn Daphne’s crying into a firestorm of rage.

Eventually, her assistant stepped forward. “What is it?” Snoopy asked, putting a hand to Daphne’s forehead. “Do you feel okay?”

Daphne shook her head. “No, I don’t. I’m not okay at all.”

Alarmed looks were exchanged. “What is it?” Snoopy asked.

“I’m just really tired,” Daphne sobbed. She clung to Snoopy’s hand. “I need some headache medicine. Can you get it for me?” She gave her assistant a plaintive look.

The assistant hesitated and exchanged a look with another person hovering nearby—someone that Cade assumed was the tour manager. He didn’t like that look, either.

“Yeah, I’ll go get your . . . headache meds,” Snoopy said after a moment. “Be right back.”

“Double dose,” Daphne called after her, sniffling.

Quietly, Kylie handed her a face cloth and Daphne began to wipe makeup free from her sweaty face. Kylie shot him a worried look and tilted her head as if to say See? See? This is why we don’t say anything.

“Are you all right, Daphne?” Cade asked, approaching his old friend again. He moved forward and put a hand on her shoulder, noticing that she was thin under the padding of her costume, and that when she removed her makeup, her face looked hollow and pale, with a fresh breakout of acne on her forehead.

She didn’t look—or act—like someone who was getting clean. And that made him worry all over again.

Daphne waved an irritated hand at him. “Quit hovering, damn it. I’m just tired. Being tired makes me moody.”

“Can I get you anything?” he asked politely. “Maybe a bottle of water or some cigarettes?”

“Snoopy’s got what I need,” Daphne retorted. “You’re being a mother hen.”

And that was more like the regular Daphne. He relaxed, stuffed his hand in his pocket . . . and froze when he touched the damp material there. He’d forgotten about Kylie’s panties, and now he didn’t want to take his hand out.