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“Lacey!” It’s Leo’s voice this time that carries across the lot. “Come on, Monroe. I don’t have all day. Get a move on!”
I straighten my shoulders and head out of the trailer. Time to be Princess Ava again, to pretend to be in love with someone I can barely tolerate. At least I’m good at pretending.
The irony of that thought hits me as I walk toward makeup, and I have to blink back sudden tears. Because the truth is, I’m not pretending anymore.
Not with Nate.
And that scares me more than any contract ever could.
Finally, after what feels like the hundredth take, we nail the goodbye scene. Leo delivers his last line, I let the tears fall (thank you, emotion memory), and the director calls, “Cut! That’s a wrap on this scene!”
I sag with relief, the emotional toll of the scene leaving me drained. The only way I made it through those endless takes was by replacing Leo’s face with Nate’s in my mind. I also imagine Nate’s hands holding mine instead of Leo’s clammy grip and picture Nate’s eyes looking back at me with that intensity that makes my knees weak.
Which probably isn’t the healthiest coping mechanism, but it got me through the scene. And if my performance was more genuine because I was thinking about Nate—well, that’s between me and my Oscar nomination, if it ever comes to that.
I step outside, squinting in the bright sunlight, when I hear a familiar voice call out, “Monroe! Looking good, princess!”
“Jake!” I spin around to see Jake Morrison, my co-star from “Summer Rain,” striding across the lot with his wife Rebecca. The sight of them together, so obviously in sync even after their years of marriage, makes my heart ache a little.
“Break for twenty!” the director announces. “Reset for the garden scene.”
Leo huffs and stalks off toward his trailer while I rush to hug Jake and Rebecca. “What are you doing here? I thought you were filming in Spain?”
“Wrapped early,” Jake grins. “Got a meeting about directing the sequel.” He checks his watch. “Which I should head to now. You two catch up?” He kisses Rebecca’s cheek, gives me a quick hug, and jogs toward the production offices.
Rebecca links her arm through mine. “Got time for a quick coffee? I heard craft services here has a killer espresso machine.”
Ten minutes later, we’re settled in a quiet corner with our drinks. Rebecca takes one look at my face and says, “Okay, spill. What’s going on in your head? I can hear the wheels spinning from here?”
I wrap my hands around my cup, letting the warmth seep into my fingers. “How do you and Jake make it work? With both your schedules being so crazy?”
“Ah.” She stirs her latte thoughtfully. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain gorgeous musician, would it?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only to someone who’s been there.” She smiles softly. “Jake and I struggled at first, trying to balance everything. Both wanting our careers, both wanting each other. It took some trial and error to figure out what worked for us.”
“But how did you decide whose career takes priority? I mean, Jake’s movies—“
“Stop right there,” Rebecca interrupts. “That’s the first mistake. It’s not about whose career is more important. It’s about finding ways to make both careers and your love life work.”
“But—“
“That’s why I switched to TV,” she continues. “Movies are amazing, but TV gives me more predictability. I know where I’ll be filming and for how long. I can plan around Jake’s schedule better.” She takes a sip of her latte. “Have you ever considered TV?”
I blink, surprised. “Honestly? No. I always thought movies were the dream.”
“They were my dream too. But dreams can evolve. Look at the amazing limited series being made now. The production value, the writing—it’s not the same industry it was ten years ago.”
She’s right. Some of the best acting I’ve seen lately has been on streaming services.
She leans in and states in a low voice. “This is all hush-hush for right now. But I’m actually thinking of starting my own production company.” Rebecca quickly looks around and then adds.
“More control over projects and my schedule. After everything Jake and I have been through trying to balance our careers, it just makes sense.”
“Your own company?” I wrap my hands around my coffee cup. “That’s a huge undertaking.”
“It’s going to be a mountain of work,” Rebecca admits, running her finger along the rim of her cup. “Setting everything up, finding the right projects, building a reputation outside the L.A. bubble. It will also require startup capital—some very serious investment money. Jake thinks I’m crazy sometimes, but...” she shrugs, a determined glint in her eye, “if it means having more control over our lives, over the stories we tell... that’s worth any amount of effort, isn’t it?”