Page 150 of Dream On, Ramona Riley

“And cut,” Gia said, her voice the softest and gentlest Dylan had ever heard.

Everyone remained quiet while Gia checked the monitor, hand on her chin as she watched what had just been filmed. Dylan’s hands were still tangled in Blair’s curls as they both waited.

“And…” Gia said, looking up and smiling. “That’s a wrap.”

Cheers went up in the crowd, and some people even threw their caps into the air if they had them.

“Good work, everyone,” Gia said, then shot a finger gun at Dylan, which was the closest she’d probably ever get to a compliment from Gia Santos.

Dylan smiled back as she pulled away from Blair. She clapped along with everyone else, nodded when people asked if she’d be at the wrap party in a few hours at Four Leaf, the only bar in town and, really, the only place big enough to house the entire crew. Her chest felt tight and bubbly at the same time—she’d done it.

She’d had a few bumps in the road, her name on the sites more than she’d like over the last six weeks of filming, but she’d done it. She’d become Eloise, portrayed a character wholly unlike her, and did itwell.

And she was happy.

Shewas.

But she’d learned long ago that emotions were never only one thing. Fear could exist with excitement, and anger could exist with love, and hurt could exist with longing, and all those things could exist together.

She looked around the room, spotted Iris Kelly, the book’s author, who had flown back to Clover Lake for the last scene and wrap party. She saw Owen, the diner’s owner, shaking hands with Gia. She saw Noelle Yang near the back, clapping and beaming alongwith everyone else. And with all the pride and relief in her heart right now, Dylan couldn’t help but let in a wave of sadness that Ramona was nowhere to be seen.

It didn’t takevery long for the wrap party to get wild. That was usually how these things went, the relief over being finished, the stress that had built up for weeks and weeks finally allowed to release.

Dylan sat at a table in Four Leaf, nursing a club soda. She hadn’t been drinking lately, and she’d never felt better physically or mentally. She knew she used alcohol as an escape, something her therapist had pointed out very brutally last week during a Zoom session, and it was a habit that could quickly spiral out of control if she didn’t do something about it. She’d fallen into her parents’ old habits, an ironic twist of fate that left her feeling like an idiot, like a weakling. Eli had said she was none of those things, that she simply had never been given other tools to process her emotions, and that was something they needed to work on.

So here she was, drinking fizzy water with lime and trying toprocess her emotionswith some good old-fashioned introspection.

“Hey,” Blair said, sitting down at the table with her, a glass of red wine in her hand. “When do you head out?”

“Tomorrow,” Dylan said. She was going back to LA, back to life, back to her cavernous house alone. True, when everything started with Ramona, she’d never expected it to last past filming. And when she realized she liked Ramona way more than she’d ever dreamed was possible, she never really thought past Clover Lake.

She hadn’t thought through so many things. There was still so much shit in her life she needed to work out, including years of pointless enmity with Blair. Despite the tentative peace they’d formed over the past couple of months, Dylan wanted to make it right.

Because she’d been wrong. So, so wrong.

“Blair,” she said.

Blair took a sip of wine, blinked at her. Then widened her eyes when Dylan stayed silent. “Yes, Dylan?” she asked, laughing a little.

But Dylan didn’t smile. She took a deep breath, leaned forward in her seat. “I’m sorry.”

Blair’s thick brows lifted. “What?”

“You were right,” Dylan went on. “That day you told me off in Clover Moon.”

Blair just stared at her.

“I was—am—spoiled and entitled,” Dylan said, looking down at her half-empty glass. “I was a brat onSpellbound’s set, and I treated you like I was a brat, and I’m sorry. You deserved better than that.”

Silence for a second, then Blair took another sip of wine, set it down.

“Well, shit,” she said. “Words I never thought I’d hear Dylan Monroe say.”

Dylan gave her a small smile. Her heart was pounding, palms sweating, but this was right, so she pushed through the anxiety and justlet herself feel it, as Eli said. She’d spent her life fighting negative emotions, because negative emotions always meant chaos for her as a kid—they were like harbingers of disaster, rather than what they really were. Just feelings. Normal responses to shitty situations.

“I know,” Dylan said. “And I’m sorry for that too.”

Blair nodded.