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“Thank Ms. Fanning, here,” I tell him. “She’s the real star here today,” I tell them all.

I tell her again, squeezing her hand a little tighter. Fighting the urge to do more than just kiss her again.

The leading actors look at each other, almost shrugging but at least Olivia and I know what’s missing in their performance.

She takes a moment, collecting herself, and goes over to each actor in turn, whispering something only they can hear before she comes back over to me.

After setting up the scene again, they pull it off in one take. Nowhere near as electric as our own performance, but way better than their other try’s.

“What did you tell them?” I ask her once we’re heading off on the rest of our tour, her hand glued firmly inside mine now.

“I just told the guy to imagine it was his boyfriend, and the girl to imagine it was her girlfriend,” she says, a matter of fact with a sly grin.

“Oh,” I say, stopping mid-step, but only long enough to join all the dots I and a whole film crew had obviously missed.

Chapter Eleven

Olivia

I’m not sure if everything that follows is part of a coordinated tour, but I don’t care either.

Once Jack kisses me for the first time, and every time after that, we could be anywhere and I’d feel the same way.

There’s no prize winner anymore. No girl meets a movie star for a day and feels better about herself.

It’s about two people finding each other. And it’s way better in real life than in any movie.

I want to tease Jack a little, asking him if this is how he treats all his meet and greets, but I know it’s not true.

I know he didn’t want to kiss the other actress any more than I wanted him to. If he did, I don’t know how I’d feel but I don’t have to worry anymore because it never happened that way.

I’ve got Jack Mercury, my man, on my arm at least and I know that I’m his from now on. No matter what happens from now on, I could never kiss anyone else because nobody could even come close to him.

After wandering for what turns into the rest of the afternoon, he asks me if we should head someplace else.

My groaning belly is thinking more food and Jack suggests a great place he knows where we can have an early dinner before heading back home.

“Heading back?” I hear myself ask, a stab of hurt in my chest, not ever wanting this day to end let alone hear Jack planning it that way.

“It’s okay,” he consoles me, kissing the top of my head as he squeezes me. “I mean heading back on the jet. It’s a loaner and I don’t feel like flying coach to get back home,” he says.

“And where is home for Jack Mercury?” I ask, hoping he can tell me. Answer just some of the million questions I still have for him about him.

“I’ve got a couple, here and there,” he says cryptically, I punch his arm softly, pretending to be mad he won’t tell, and growl softly, begging him not to send me home alone today.

“Not yet, anyway,” I trail off, wondering if it really is just a one-day thing with Jack. Suddenly worried he might not feel exactly the same way I do.

“And what about you?” he asks. “Do you have a place in the suburbs or a downtown apartment?” he asks with genuine curiosity.

Looking down at me with the same tell me everything about you face that he’s had on most of today.

The single thought of Jack Mercury seeing where I live is enough to make me run a cold sweat.

Especially once I realize he’s asking a genuine question.

A guy like Jack, I’m assuming his days of one bedroom apartments in bad areas and working for almost free are pretty much behind him.

“Where are we gonna eat?” I ask, trying to sound enthusiastic and hopefully changing the subject.

He glances sidelong at me, creasing his mouth as he lets his own questioning slide. For now.

“Italian okay? I know this great place, it’s so good. It’s like being in Italy sixty years ago,” he exclaims, making me drool already as he easily finds my kryptonite: Pasta.

I nod eagerly, nuzzling into him as we step outside into a chilly late afternoon which looks and feels more like early evening back home with the sky so dark.

“There’s our car,” he says, spotting the driver loading up the trunk with what looks like the flowers I was given earlier, along with a bunch of other stuff.

Hopefully my clothes.

My bra, it’s the only one I have that fits.

“What about our clothes?” I ask him, needing to know we have them back before going anywhere else.

“I’ll double-check, but I’m sure we’ll have our regular clothes back,” he says casually.

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