“Eventually.” He rolls his eyes. “I cock blocked myself for another month with that move. It’s easier now that we have rules.”
“Rules?”
“We don’t visit on set these days. She doesn’t like to see me putting my hands on someone else, and I get crankier than our babies just thinking about her doing the same.”
“But you’re both actors.” I swallow thickly, thinking about how this might affect Isaac. He’s not used to any of this. Is today’s filming going to set us back in our relationship? Will he be jealous? Do I want him to be? “What are the other rules?”
“Just one more. I have to shower before I come home.” He tightens his robe and looks at the bed on our set. “It’s not so much a problem today, but there’s no way in hell I’ll come home smelling like another woman, or covered in glitter.”
“Glitter?”
“Yeah, that time I was a gangster. The stripper scenes had me covered in it.”
“Acting is such a weird job sometimes.”
He chuckles, meeting my gaze. “That it is.”
“Okay, you two.” Isabella waves us over. “We’re ready.”
I inhale and swallow back the nerves threatening to mess with my head. I need to focus on my lines and my performance. The faster we get through these, the sooner it’ll be over.
“Hey, don’t stress.” Scott touches my shoulder. “At least he’s not here.”
“Who?”
“The guy you’ve obviously started seeing.” He holds up his hands as my mouth falls open. “Don’t even try to deny it. I know young love when I see it. You don’t have to tell me who it is, but fair warning, Jennifer will hound you the next time you’re by for dinner.”
“How did you . . .”
“Know? You’ve been walking on clouds since we got back from Brazil. I’m happy for you, Cora. And you’ll navigate the challenges of balancing work with the personal stuff. If he’s worth it, you’ll both figure it out. Anyway. At least he’s not here today. Right?” He laughs heartily, but my stomach dips.
“Yeah. Right.” I force a nervous laugh. I’m glad Isaac and I aren’t so transparent that we’ve clued in the staff and crew. I’m not so lucky, though, because he’ll be watching me every second. The original Gwendolyn Wright hanging on set behind the bed ensures that. Fucking hell. Here goes nothing.
Thirty-Three
Isaac
The first time Scott Eastman cups my girlfriend’s breast, I want to punch something—preferably his face.
The next take, when he shoves his tongue down her throat, I nearly cut through the skin of my palms with how tightly my fists curl.
I can’t look away. The same sickness that causes one to turn and examine the remnants of a brutal car crash keeps my eyes glued to the set. I watch him—his hands, his mouth, his body—every part that touches hers. Jealousy flares, and while the rational part of my brain understands what’s happening—that this is her job—I can’t help what I feel.
But then I realize I’m studying the wrong person.
My focus shifts to her. God, she’s amazing. Beautiful, yes, but so fucking talented at her craft. She’s right there in this scene. Living and breathing as someone else. A bold, brash young artist. Living her life unapologetically and not afraid to push boundaries, during a period when women weren’t allowed. Which is why these sex scenes are crucial to the story. I see it as clear as the passion in Cora’s eyes. Is she thinking of me when he touches her? Does she disassociate her own feelings from that of the character she’s playing? Either way, her performance is captivating.
A few hours into taping and my thoughts have come full circle. Yes, I don’t love Scott touching her, but I have nothing but the utmost respect for Cora and, begrudgingly, him too. She’s a master at her craft. The world is going to love her more than they already do once they see this film.
“Let’s go again.” Isabella says from her perch off set. “This time I want more aggression, Cora. Give me that turmoil. You know this is a bad idea, but you’re compelled to do it anyway.”
I almost laugh out loud. Fuck my life. If someone told me last month I’d be sitting in a movie studio, being paid to watch my girlfriend pretend to fuck another dude, I’d have thought they were crazy. Not just for the absurdity of the situation, but because I never expected to date anyone after what went down with Emily. I swore off women for good. Besides, taking care of my son was all consuming. I didn’t have time for anyone else.
Until Cora.
She’s showing me I’m capable of love. Deserving of more. That I can be a good father and partner. That there’s no reason I shouldn’t have the life I always wanted. She’s restored my faith in the future.
Only now, I’m not sure how I fit into her career. This isn’t her first time doing a scene with partial nudity, or implied nudity. But that’s just scratching the surface. How will it be when she has a project that takes her out of LA? She’ll be gone for months at a time. I can’t imagine that’ll be easy, but will she even want to make it work? I don’t want to become her burden.
The urge to pull her aside and talk through these feelings to see where her head’s at is strong. I wait patiently for a break but the director doesn’t offer many, and when she does it’s to talk to Cora. It’s not as if I can flag down my girl without causing a scene. The staff is already half that of a normal shooting day.
If I want Cora alone, I have to wait it out.
Unfortunately, I can’t stick around on set today. I have an exam for one of my classes in an hour, and a lecture for another after that. So, after Frank shows up for our changing of the guard, I leave without even the chance to say good-bye.
I skim my notes on the bus, get to campus and ace my test—or at least it feels that way—then breeze through my next class without any issues. My sister texts me when I’m on my way to pick up David from daycare, confirming I still need her for my shift at the coffee shop tonight. Shit. I forgot I was scheduled. Usually I’m on my A game because there’s no room for error, but being with Cora this weekend was like taking a small time out from the regular grind. It wasn’t overly relaxing, especially with what happened at the festival, but having Cora with me—as a partner and someone to lean on—made me realize how long I’ve been doing this on my own. That maybe I don’t want to, and there’s no shame in having someone to help shoulder the responsibility.
At the pace I’m racing through life, I’m headed straight for burnout. I’ve never considered how unhealthy that might be, or how I can still pursue my goals and open myself to a little fun in the process. I’ve been existing. Punishing myself, cutting myself off from creating art, and closing off the possibility of any romantic relationship as some kind of penance for missing out on David’s early years. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but it stops now. At least, I resolve to do better.
My mind is still contemplating this revelation when I reach the door to David’s daycare. I knock and check the time. There’s still so much to do and Cora won’t be done for a few more hours. I want to talk to her. Need to. Maybe she’ll stop by the café? I shoot a quick text letting her know that’s where I’ll be.