Page 65 of Let’s Make a Scene

Over the next few days, I amass a collection of love letters, each one as romantic, funny, and openhearted as the first. Jack and I spend a lot of time together, both on set and off. He folds so seamlessly into my life, into my family, that it feels like he’s always been there.

With every day that passes I feel some of my anxiety loosen. I even have my first therapy session, online via Zoom with a UK-based therapist Clemmie recommends. It looks like this:

Me

I just think I’m pretty self-aware and in touch with how I think and feel about things, so I’m not exactly sure what I’m going to get out of this process.

Her

Okay.

Me

*Sobs hysterically for sixty minutes.*

Her

Why don’t we schedule another session for tomorrow?

Me

Okay.

The problem that I’m facing now is that Jack is being extremely respectful of me and my feelings and he has made no push to do more than spend time with me, talk to me, and write me searingly beautiful letters.

Frankly, it’s a nightmare.

“He won’t even hold my hand!” I hiss to Hannah.

“Why don’t you hold his hand?” she asks.

Because this is an absolutely valid point, I decide not to dignify it with an answer.

The thing is, I know that Jack is waiting for some sort of signal or sign from me, but I don’t know what that looks like or even if I’m totally ready for it.

The last thing I want to do is mess this up.

It’s too important. I’m a mess of indecision.

I can see that I’m sabotaging my own happiness, but somehow I can’t stop it.

Even after everything he’s done there’s still a part of me that can’t believe he really feels for me what he says he does. And I have no idea how to fix that.

“Just jump on him,” Patty advises. “Bang this shit out.”

“My wife, the romantic,” Arjun supplies fondly.

Maybe she’s right. After all, the amount of time I spend thinking about getting Jack back into bed… or against a wall… or really on any flat surface is bordering on perverse.

And now he’s on a bloody horse.

“I can’t believe that Reckless Ed is still going strong,” I say, patting the big, beautiful horse’s neck.

“Horses live a long time,” Jack says, “but I didn’t think we’d be reunited like this.”

I might be wearing jeans and a sweater because I’m not filming, but Jack is in full costume and the effect is just as mouthwatering as it was the first time. More so, actually, because I’m even more desperately horny and I know exactly what’s underneath all that buttoned-up regalia.

I’m not the only one who has turned out to watch Jack filming his “galloping, windswept across the parkland” scenes. I’d say 95 percent of the female cast and crew members (and a significant proportion of the men for that matter) have wandered innocently down for totally legitimate reasons.

“You look very handsome,” I say, a little breathless.

Jack’s mouth pulls up in a dangerous half-smile. “Yeah, I remember you looking at me like that the first time around. A man on horseback really does it for you, hey, Taylor?”

“I think it’s you on horseback, more specifically.”

His smile grows. “Now, that is good to know. How about—” Whatever he’s going to say is cut off when Reckless Ed, who has been standing tranquilly, occasionally flicking his ears back and forth, lets out a high-pitched whinny and suddenly swings away from me.

“What the—” I leap backward, and in his surprise it takes Jack a couple of seconds to get the horse back under control.

“Oh no.” There’s laughter in Jack’s voice as he calls over his shoulder. “It looks like Reckless Ed has spotted the one that got away.”

I follow his gaze to find Hannah climbing up the hill toward us. She waves but hesitates when she sees the giant horse. I don’t know if horses can actually smile, but Reckless Ed is doing a very good impression of it.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Hannah says to me, one eye on the horse who is practically quivering with excitement as Jack moves back toward us.

“Oh.” I frown. “You didn’t come here looking for me?”

She blinks several times. “Err… yes,” she says. “I mean, no.”

“Well, that clears things up,” I mutter, bemused.

That’s when Jack and Hannah share a shifty look. “What’s going on?” I ask suspiciously.

“Nothing!” Hannah says brightly.

“I asked Hannah to come up,” Jack says. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist seeing if Reckless Ed remembered her.”

The horse in question drops his enormous muzzle on top of Hannah’s head, huffing happily into her hair. My best friend freezes, a huge, unnatural smile on her face.

“Yep, you got me!” she exclaims, her shoulders up round her ears. “Anyway, if you don’t need me, I’d better be going.”

“Is everything okay?” Jack asks, easily.

“Yep. Yep.” Hannah’s head bobs. “Everything is all good. Just perfect .”

“Did you just wink at Jack?” I ask.

“Something in my eye,” Hannah mutters, stepping gingerly away from Reckless Ed.

Jack coughs into his hand, and I think he must be trying to hide a laugh, but I’m distracted by Jasmine’s appearance on set.

“Okay, weirdos,” I say. “I need to go and grab Jasmine really quick. Have a good scene,” I say to Jack. “I’ll be cheering you on from behind the monitors.”

Jasmine looks up when I stomp over. “That was a good note about the ballroom scene yesterday,” she says. “I was just talking to Lo and we think we’re going to shoot some extra footage to fill the gap, when we’re back in the studio.”

“Great.” I feel a little glow of satisfaction.

As she promised, Jasmine has let me sit in on the evening meetings when she and Logan go through the day’s shooting.

Apart from the misery of having to watch myself in uncut, unedited footage, it’s been fascinating, and to give Logan his due, he’s been just as happy as Jasmine to welcome my input.

He even offered to put me in touch with some of his contacts.

(“Thrilled to be an ally!” he insisted.)

“I also have those details you were asking about,” Jasmine adds casually.

My gaze sharpens. “She said yes?”

Jasmine nods, and I exhale. Lilah Meritt was third AD on one of Shawn’s films, and someone who Jasmine knew had been pressured into a bad situation with him. I asked Jasmine a couple of days ago if she thought Lilah might be willing to talk to me about it, and it looks like she’s agreed.

“She even has another couple of names for us,” Jasmine says.

I press my lips together. “This thing is really snowballing.” Lilah is actually the second person Jasmine put me on to. The first, Sarah, asked me if I was going to do something about Shawn.

“He needs to be called out,” she said tearfully, over the phone. “And you’re the only one of us with the platform to do it. I know it’s not fair, but I hope you’ll think about it.”

I have been. A lot.

“Honestly, I wish I was more surprised.” Jasmine squints out over to where Jack is warming Reckless Ed up by putting him through his paces. “I get the feeling there are plenty of people who have been waiting for an opportunity to talk about this. Have you decided what you want to do yet?”

“I think I’m going to speak to Brooke.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“No, but I have a feeling she’s already interested in the story, and I like her. I know she’s green, but the work she’s done already is solid.”

Jasmine nods. “Yeah, I really enjoyed the short she made about book banning. I was surprised she took on this project.”

I smile. “I think she’s genuinely a fan of the first film.”

“And why wouldn’t she be?” Jasmine lifts her brows.

“Exactly.”

“Fine, well, if you need anything just let me know,” Jasmine says briskly. “But right now I’m going to go and make sure my brother has allowed Jack to keep all his clothes on.”

“I’m not going to disagree with him that shirtless Jack on the back of a horse would make for compelling viewing.”

“Philistines,” Jasmine huffs, striding off.

With a grin, I take the seat that Arjun has saved me near the monitors and spend a very enjoyable hour watching Jack look commanding on horseback. Tragically for his audience, he remains fully clothed at all times.

“He’s gorgeous,” a voice says from beside me.

“Jack or the horse?” I ask, my eyes glued to the screen.

Brooke laughs. “Both.”

I turn to her and find Declan filming me. “Too right,” I agree.

“Is it true that you filmed the kiss scene in the last movie in a single take?” Brooke asks.

“Yeah.” My eyes stray back to Jack, who has finished the current take and is looking down at a gesticulating Logan, laughing. “We only needed one.”

“That’s hot,” Brooke says, matter-of-factly.

“Do you know what?” I say. “It really was. But in real life? It’s even hotter.”

Brooke is practically fist-pumping at catching that little nugget on camera, and I grin back at her. It feels good just to say what’s on my mind.

“I actually wondered if I could have a word with you?” I ask her. “In private.”

“Sure,” Brooke agrees easily. “Dec can shoot some B-roll of Jack, right?”

“No worries,” Dec agrees.

I get to my feet and catch Jack’s eye, waving to let him know I’m leaving.

“Hang on,” he calls, trotting over to the two of us. “I needed to ask you something.” He’s not wearing a hat and his hair is wind-tumbled, his cheeks pink. He looks so handsome that I find it difficult to focus on what he’s actually saying. “Are you free tomorrow night?” he asks.

It takes a moment for me to process the words when my brain is busy chanting KISS HIM, KISS HIM, KISS HIM. “I think so, why?”

He flashes me a grin. “Because I’m taking you on a date.” He treats Brooke to a little wink, and she practically dissolves on the spot. On that note, he wheels the horse around and the two of them thunder away.

Next to me, Brooke gives a small, lovelorn sigh. “You’re right. He is even better in real life.”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” I say, my eyes still on Jack, then I give myself a little shake. “Come on then, let’s go and see if Pam in craft services has anything on offer. I’m starving.”

Brooke and I make our way down to base in companionable silence, and I try not to worry too much about the conversation we’re about to have. It’s only a first step, I remind myself. I’m not committing to anything.

We park up at a small wooden table in front of Pam’s food truck, tucking into ham sandwiches made with doorstop-thick slices of bread.

“So, what’s up?” Brooke asks.

“I’ve been thinking about our last interview,” I say, blowing on my scalding-hot cup of tea. “When you asked me about Rufus.”

Brooke sits up straighter, unable to hide her interest.

I treat her to a long measuring look. “I watched some of your other work, you know,” I say. “Before we started filming. I wanted to know who was going to be following us around.”

There’s a hint of color in Brooke’s face. “What did you think?”

“I thought it was good. You have a great eye, and a skill for crafting a compelling narrative. I liked the work you did on the women’s shelter in New York.”

“That was my student thesis,” she says, surprised.

“I like to be thorough.” I put my cup down. “And I’m glad they booked you for this. I think you’ll make something more interesting than the puff piece the studio is after.”

“I hope so. It’s been a lot of fun so far.”

“So what I wanted to ask you about was your next project.”

Brooke’s expression is guarded. “What about it?”

I run my finger around the top of my mug. “I suppose I wondered if your question about Rufus had something to do with it. We both know the studio isn’t going to let you put anything about him in the documentary, so I wasn’t sure why you’d even ask. Plus, there was the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

I lift my eyes to hers. “I’m pretty sure you were trying to get me to talk about Shawn Hardy, and I want to know why.”

It’s my turn to be measured. Brooke’s lips purse thoughtfully as she considers me. “I’m working on something about women in the entertainment industry post MeToo,” she says finally.

“And you think there’s something to be said about Shawn?” I steady my tone as I ask the question carefully, though my heart thumps.

“I know there is,” she says, just as steady.

There’s a beat of silence then. To give myself something to do, I take a sip of my tea, which is still too hot.

“Okay,” I say softly, more to myself than to her. “I think you and I should have a conversation.”

“On the record?” Cheerful, sunny Brooke is gone; now she looks more like a shark scenting blood. I can appreciate that killer instinct. It tells me I was right about her.

My shoulders relax. “Let’s see how we get on.”

It’s a start.