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I arrive on set a little early, which is how I prefer to start every day of work. It gives me a chance to be fully prepared, which is the key to my success. Creating a movie can be stressful, but I try to be ready for anything.
Luca is already on set, which is no surprise—the man is dedicated. I meet with him in the screening area where he’s going over the shots from yesterday. We sit together, reviewing the scenes and discussing any reshoots that need to be done while the rest of the cast and crew arrive. It takes a while, but this is my favorite part of my job. I love the creative aspect of it.In the end, there’s only one scene that needs to be redone due to a visible boom microphone. So, we’ll add it to the schedule for first thing tomorrow.
Despite having the reshoot scheduled, Luca goes to find the production sound mixer and tears into him about the mistake. I feel sorry for the guy, but I already know Luca well enough to realize there’s nothing I can do about it. When he gets worked up about something, he’s determined to handle it himself. But in the end, it’s what makes him a critically acclaimed director. He’s difficult to please with his absurdly high standards, but you can’t argue with his results.
By now, everyone’s arrived, and the first shot of the day is in the works. The props master is flitting around the set, ensuring everything is precisely where it needs to be for the scene. Actors are reciting lines while having their hair and makeup done. Even the production assistants are busy running errands for the cast and crew.
Everything is totally under control, so I know I should take this opportunity to seek Jackson out and finally have a conversation with him. I turn around to do just that, only to run right into a broad chest.
Every nerve ending in my body lights up, as large hands reach out to grip my hips to keep me from losing my balance and tumbling to the ground. I glance up to see Jackson looking at me with a burning curiosity shining in his eyes.
Damn those gorgeous brown eyes of his.
Fighting off the urge to melt into his embrace, I force myself to take a step back until he’s no longer touching me. His mouth turns down in a frown, and I swear he looks hurt by my actions.
Not that he has any right to feel that way.
He’s the bad guy here, not me. I remind myself I have every right to act this way, but it looks like there’s no more avoidinghim. We’re finally going to have the conversation I’ve been dreading.
“We should talk,” he says. “I don’t know what I did to upset you, Hails, but I’m sorry for whatever it is. This isn’t how I thought our reunion would go, with me chasing you all over the damn movie set.”
“It’s not exactly what I had in mind either.” My tone is more insolent than I intend—betraying my hurt feelings—and I hate it. I’m sure my heartbreak is evident on my face too. In most aspects of my life, I’m a strong, capable woman. But I’m too vulnerable when it comes to Jackson. The man has a way of reaching my heart, even when I don’t want him to.
I’m more conflicted than ever the longer I stare into his big brown eyes. I want to hold on to my anger because it’s justified—I know it is—but my body has different plans altogether. I’m still attracted to him, maybe more so than before. Years of longing and regret fuel an overpowering desire, and I’m just not sure I can fight it.
But I’m also crushed…
Jackson must be able to read the emotions on my face because he steps closer and takes my hand. I’m very aware there are people all around who can see us, but I don’t pull away. For a brief moment, I allow myself to enjoy the sensation of his warm touch.
“Just tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it,” he pleads softly. “Then we can move on, and we can do this reunion right. I want to know what you’ve been up to for the last ten years.”
Fix it?No, it’s not that easy. The past can’t be changed, and that comment tells me all I need to know about who he really is as a person.
“You can’t fix this, Jackson.” I chuckle, but the sound is bitter—nothing about this is funny. I pull my hand away, hating how cold I feel without the contact. “There’s nothing to fix. I thoughtI wanted answers, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” I turn to walk away, keeping my head held high. I’m going to be strong about this, even if my heart feels like it’s breaking all over again.
“Wait, what does that mean?” Jackson calls out.
I hear his footsteps behind me, and then his hand is on me again, grabbing my arm to stop me. He’s gentle, but I don’t like it. His touch disrupts my sense of control. I’m about to tell him to keep his damn hands to himself, but I’m distracted when a production assistant comes hurrying towards us.
“Mr. Reed, we need you. We’re about to shoot scene twenty-three, and Luca wants you there to supervise the stunts.” The poor kid is wide-eyed and out of breath, like he’s afraid to report back empty-handed.
Good. It saves me from continuing this conversation any further.
Jackson looks back at me for a long moment before sighing and releasing my arm. He turns to the production assistant with his jaw clenched and nods. I stand firmly in place, watching them walk away while knowing how upset Jackson must be to leave things unfinished between us. It’s obvious by the tension he carries in his shoulders and the stiffness of his spine. I tell myself this is his own fault—that he’s the one who lied. But for some reason, far beyond my comprehension, I still feel guilty. Or maybe I just hate seeing him hurting, especially when I’m hurting too.
The morning shoot goes relatively smoothly, even though there’s an awkwardness in the air every time I have to interact with Jackson. I’m pretty sure some of the cast and crew are picking up on it, but no one dares to say a word. Maybe that’s becauseJackson’s radiating unhappiness, and they don’t want to make his grumpy ass any madder than he already is.
Damn it, I just want the day to be over, but it’s only early afternoon. I had lunch an hour ago, but I need a caffeine boost, so I decide to take a ten-minute coffee break. There’s an espresso machine set up at the craft services table, and I head in that direction, not paying a lick of attention to anyone around me. It’s not until I’m standing next to a young girl helping herself to a blueberry muffin that I realize it’s the same child I encountered at Jackson’s house a few days ago—Cam.
I can’t resist looking at her for a few seconds, once again cataloging the similarities between her and the man I once knew. Despite the features they have in common, she isn’t masculine. She’s a pretty little girl, wearing a beautiful yellow dress.
I sip my coffee as I ask myself what would have happened if I stayed ten years ago. Would Jackson have chosen to be with me instead of this girl’s mother? What wouldourchild look like?
No. Don’t even think about that.
If I stayed, it wouldn’t change the fact that he lied to me back then. Besides, I wouldn’t be where I am now if I hadn’t pursued my career. I made my choice, and there’s no retracting it now.
Cam turns in my direction just as I finish my espresso, and I try to walk away before she recognizes me. Instead, I only manage to spill the last dregs of my beverage onto the table in my haste. I bite back a curse and grab some napkins to wipe up the mess.
