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“But later is fine,” she says, then turns to me. “When you come in, let’s have a chat about the New York scenes coming up next week. Is the fountain at Lincoln Center really the best location for the breakup shot? Or should we do it on set instead?”
Changing a location from the streets of New York to the studio is easy enough. “I’m partial to Lincoln Center, but if you think something like the office set is better, then I’ll make it happen.”
With a sigh, she taps her chin, clearly weighing the options. “I’ll think on it.”
Her words are polite, but there is a cutting edge to them.
Could I lose my job? Will she say something to Bridger? Will he say something to my dad? Finn didn’t even touch me in public.
Still, I must be wearing all my thoughts on my face.I’m falling in love with this man.
My gaze drops to the ground as heat spreads across my cheeks.
She’s a woman I respect: a sharp, no-nonsense producer. How could I have let myself get so close to Finn? What was I thinking?
But for once, Iwasn’tthinking. I was only feeling.
“You must be staying nearby,” Finn says to her when she shows no signs of leaving.
“Yes. My hotel, too, is around the corner,” she says, and thattoomakes me think she’s been aware of us for longer than I’ve realized.
My stomach twists with guilt and shame. “It’s a nice hotel,” I say, and I sound like a chastened child. I feel like one.
“It’s terrific,” she says. “Well, I better go. I’ll see you shortly, I trust?” The question is directed at me in a concerned tone.
“Absolutely.”
“Good,” she says, then spins on her heel and heads into the crowd.
She’s gone, and I should feel relieved. But my throat constricts and my lungs struggle to fill with air.
“Jules,” Finn says with some concern. “It’s going to be okay.”
“You can’t know that,” I say, my voice wobbly.
I’ve got to do something. To go. To explain. I could chase after her. Sayit’s not what you think.
But it is what she thinks. She’s not stupid, and I have to fix this.
That’s what I do at work—fix problems. I need to fix my own problem, right now, right here, before it gets worse.
I jump up as Finn tosses a few bills on the table. Grabbing my purse and phone, I walk, then I jog, pushing past tourists and locals.
I’m barely thinking as I rush through the streams of people till I reach the corner. I’m about to call out the producer’s name when a hand wraps around my wrist.
“Jules,” Finn says, firm and sharp. “Talk to me.”
“I have to explain to her,” I say, rushing urgently down the sidewalk.
“No. You don’t.” He tugs me down a quiet side street. “Breathe,” he says once we stop in an alcove next to a clothing boutique. “She has no way of knowing anything.”
I shake my head. He’s wrong. “She’s smart. How could she not suspect something was going on between us?”
“First, it’s none of her damn business. Second, she didn’t see anything.” He tries to reassure me, trying clearly to take control of the situation. “And you’re not my employee. You don’t work for me. This is not an office romance.”
“I know that,” I bite out. “I’m not stupid.”
“I didn’t say that. I’d never say that. I know you aren’t,” he says. “I’m trying to help.”
