Page 37 of Unscripted with Mila

He cocked his head, studying me, a grin pulling on his lips. “If anyone does, it’ll be you.”

* * *

NICHOLAS

I grilled Mila for two hours. Lacey got bored and left. Amber came and went, and Mila’s agent, Andi, spent the time on the phone or her laptop, often disappearing and getting straight back to work once she seemed sure Mila was okay.

I had been late, cursing and upset that I was delayed.

MJ had shown up unexpectedly, a pile of scripts clutched in her hands. “I need you to go through these. I think the top one is a winner.”

I frowned. “I told you I wanted a break when this was done.”

She shook her head. “If this goes well, you need another one right away. I want you to keep working. Smooth out your reputation.”

I had shut my eyes, gathering my patience. “My reputation is fine.”

“If this movie does well, we need to cash in on the good PR.” She held up a script. “This one is angsty and gritty.” She frowned. “It’s a pretty long shoot. You’ll have to do some training and lose some weight for the second part of the movie, but it’s doable.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t want a grueling schedule.”

She became irate. “Too bad, Nicholas. You need to listen to me—”

I interrupted her. “No, you need to listen to me, MJ. If I don’t think I can do it, I’m not going to.”

“Then you can kiss your career goodbye.”

“Stop being so overdramatic,” I insisted. “That’s my job.” I tried to tease her into a better mood.

She glared at me. “Then do your job. Stop wasting my time.”

She stormed out, and it took me a while to relax. I glanced through the script, rolling my eyes. Doable? I would have to train intensively, and the weight loss would be significant. As I’d learned the last time, I didn’t handle those extremes well.

Had she forgotten, or did she simply no longer care?

It hit me that perhaps she never really had—at least not for a long time.

That led to more thoughts, and I forgot the time, making me late.

Mila pursed her lips, shaking her head, bringing me out of my woolgathering.

“I never thought about it that way,” she mused. “I saw him as deeper than that. Complex and trying to handle everything on his own.” She huffed out a long breath. “Not because he wanted to, or even made the conscious decision to, but because he didn’t know how to do it any differently. How to ask for help,” she explained. “Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I get that.”

“Do you?” she asked. “Know how to ask for help, I mean?”

I sat back, surprised by her question. Amber was out of the room, and Andi was on the phone again at the other end of the conference room.

“I don’t know,” I replied honestly. “I’m not given the choice most of the time.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful.

“Do you?” I queried. “Have someone you can turn to?”

“Yes,” she stated firmly. “My family. They would help me, no matter what.”

“You’re very lucky.”