I push the beans around my plate. It does smell delicious. Just a simple roasted drumstick, some mashed potatoes and vegetables. “No, this is good.”
He reaches over, placing a hand over mine. “Do you want to talk about it? What set it off or what you’re worried about?”
Do I? Kind of. The only person I’ve ever talked to about my anxiety and panic attacks has been my therapist. Afew others in my close circle know, but I don’t share details with them. They just protect me and hide me away when I need it. Nobody has ever really asked what’s wrong.
“It was the scene. It took me back to my breakup with Brad. But I could feel it coming before that. We’ve been shooting such long hours. I’m not getting enough sleep, not eating regular meals. It all adds up. Puts me closer to the edge. Makes it easier for the anxiety to take over.”
“You haven’t had a day off since filming started, have you?”
“No, but that’s not unusual on set.”
“How is that allowed?”
I shrug, finally scooping up some mashed potatoes. They’re creamy and garlicky, but they leave a lump in my throat, because there’s dread lurking at the back of my mind. “Acting isn’t like many other jobs. But to be fair, you never get a day off around here either, do you?”
He laughs. “Not really, but we’ve got each other. Caleb and I, Shayla when she’s around. Dean and the rest of the staff. I can take a day off when I need it. In fact, I’ve got tomorrow off.”
Wish I could take it with him. “I’m still worried, though.”
“About what?”
My face scrunches up. “I’ve never had a panic attack while filming. I’ve always managed to hold it off, or get away during a break in filming. What if Maggie fires me?”
Quint sucks in a sharp breath and flips my hand over on the table, giving it a squeeze. “She’s not going to dothat, Aura. You had a panic attack. It wasn’t your fault. She can’t fire you for that.”
“She could. And now everyone’s seen me like that. How am I going to face them all tomorrow morning?” Embarrassment hits me at the thought of all the sympathetic faces, all my castmates feeling like they have to tiptoe around and treat me with kid gloves.
“Maggie was worried about you, and Tobias was beside himself. I had to tell them to back off because I didn’t want you getting overwhelmed. They’re going to understand. They’re your friends. And anyone who doesn’t can go fuck themselves.”
My phone buzzes beside me and I glare at it, afraid to flip it over and see who messaged.
Quint’s gaze follows mine to the device. “You should check that.”
“Should I?”
“Yes. You can handle it, whatever it is. And if you need me, I’m here for you.”
I finally take his advice, picking the phone up. There’s a handful of messages. Delaney, Sav, even Hayden and Tobias. They’re all asking if I’m okay, if they can do anything for me. All positive and concerned.
Then there’s one from Maggie. The one I’ve been dreading.
Maggie: I’m out on the porch, you got a sec to come chat?
My stomach does a backflip, and nausea burns the back of my throat. I swallow hard.
“It’s Maggie. She wants to see me.” There’s no concern on his face. It’s smooth, calm. I take my cue from him. “Okay, I’ll go talk to her.”
He nods. “It’ll be all right. Everything is going to be fine.”
He unfolds himself from the straight-backed wooden chair at the same time as I do, and I let him take my hand to walk me to the door.
“You go talk to her, and then once you’re feeling better you can come back in here and eat some dinner. You promise?”
“Yes.” If I’ve got any appetite left after this conversation.
The sun has disappeared completely now, leaving a big round moon behind like a pale shadow, casting a softer glow through the dark. Maggie is standing on the porch, one hip propped on the railing, waiting for me.
“Thank you. How are you doing?” she asks.
