“Yeah,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. “I wish I had even half of her energy. Bottle it up and take it with me for those late nights on set.” “Guess it beats the coke, huh?” His expression falls when I say that. Right away, I feel like crap. Ugh. “Sorry,” I say. “I shouldn’t have said that.” “It’s fine,” he says. “I deserve whatever you throw at me.”
