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Nolan looks between the two of us before nodding his head in agreement. After shaking both of our hands, he disappears out the open door, leaving me alone with Steve for the first time since my mother rocked my world with her revelation.
Before I can say anything or let myself sink further down the rabbit hole that is my imagination, Steve starts talking shop and I couldn’t be more grateful. Pulling my notebook from my bag, we work through the list of items I wrote down last night, keeping a close eye on the clock on the wall above the door.
As soon as it strikes seven o’clock, Steve is rushing us out the door with me hot on his heels as he continues to add to my already long to-do list. The minute we step through the large garage doors of the soundstage, he begins shouting orders, our conversation abruptly ending. People are rushing around, setting up for the first shot when Eli approaches.
“For you,” he says, handing me a giant paper cup. The aroma of freshly ground coffee beans assaults my senses, and I take a sip, burning my tongue in the process.
“Thank you.”
“Of course. How was your meeting?”
“Interesting,” I say, lowering my voice. “I’ll tell you later. I need to find Celia and make sure she gets her ass to makeup before Ansen blows up on her for being late. Just another glorious day on set.”
“She’s already there. I may have told her the call sheet said she was due on set an hour before she really was.”
“I love you so much right now,” I say, giggling at how angry Celia is going to be when she finds out she’s early until I realize what I just said.
I choke on my laughter, my face heating in embarrassment, but Eli doesn’t flinch.
“I mean—”
“Don’t,” he growls. “Don’t take it back. You may not have meant to say it, but you did.”
“It was a slip of the tongue.”
“Yes, but somewhere down deep, you meant it,” he states, quickly pulling me into his warm embrace and nuzzling my neck. People are scurrying all around us. There’s no way they’re oblivious to what’s going on between us.
So much for keeping our personal life separate from our professional one.
“We’re on set, Eli. We’re supposed to be acting professional right now,” I remind him, but my voice betrays me, a soft moan escaping my lips when I feel the warmth of his breath brush across the sensitive skin of my neck.
“Overrated.”
It really is, but after the strange meeting I had this morning and the unique circumstances already surrounding me, I need to have control over at least one aspect of my life.
Pushing out of his arms is the last thing I want to do but I force myself. He promised. We’re separating work from our personal relationship. The same way I’m separating work from my relationship with Steve. When this is all over things will be different. We won’t have to hide from anyone.
Well, except the press.
What we have is none of their business and I’d like to keep it that way as long as possible. A topic I still haven’t found a way to breach with him but need to. He knows I’m not a fan of the spotlight, that I prefer to be behind the camera, but I’m not sure if he understands my true feelings on tabloids and paparazzi. It’s something we’ll discuss when the time comes, hopefully before it’s something that requires immediate attention.
Eli walks me to hair and makeup before heading to wardrobe. Celia is staring at her phone, typing feverishly when I walk in. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips. Not wanting to engage with her, I wave the call sheets at the stylist currently pinning the wig on Celia and set them on the table.
I still don’t understand the wig. It’s the same shade of blonde as Celia’s natural hair. The only thing I can figure is that Celia refused to cut or color her hair. Her character, Jessa, dyes her hair pink at one point.
I’m almost out the door when I hear her call my name, the sound instantly hitting a nerve.
“Where were you this morning?” Celia asks.
“I had a meeting.”
“And where is my coffee?”
“I didn’t make a run this morning. I had a meeting,” I reiterate.
Celia waves her hand in the air, dismissing me. I quickly exit the room before she can make any demands of my time and power walk toward my office to get started on my enormous list of things to accomplish. I’ve barely started when my walkie talkie is going off, Steve’s voice on the other end demanding that I come to the set immediately.
Two hours later, I’m back on set with coffee for half the crew, including Celia, snacks, bottled water, and a slew of other items I was directed to pick up while I was out. The list I was given was written in beautiful cursive, a stark contrast to Steve’s normal chicken scratch. I knew it was Celia’s doing but I didn’t let my irritation show.
