“Yeah, she’s here. Though I’m not sure where.”
Gwen raises her chin and scans the room, her gaze landing on me. “You still haven’t shown me your work, young man.” Doesn’t matter that I’m fully grown, or she’s not my relative, I straighten to attention at her use of young man.
“Yes.” Cora glances between us, her head nodding as she turns to Gwen. “It’s amazing.”
Someone calls Cora’s name, catching her attention from across the set. “Excuse me,” Cora says before striding away.
Gwen’s brows shoot up in surprise and a hand goes to her hip as she points a finger near my chest. “Should I be offended she’s seen your stuff, and I haven’t?”
“Sorry.” I clear my throat. Shoving my hands into the back pockets of my jeans. “I don’t create anymore. That part of my life is over.”
“Says who?”
“Circumstances,” I say, but that’s not quite right. I’m not a victim. “My choices.”
“Hmm.” She nods, then lifts her gaze to where Cora and her co-star Scott huddle over a script. “You and the actress?” Gwen’s brows lift with her question.
I nod, not intending to hide my relationship, but also wanting to respect the workspace.
“Good.” A satisfied smile teases Gwen’s lips. “You balance each other. Light to dark. Hard and soft. Bold and unpretentious. The negative space works.”
A chuckle bursts from my lips. “We aren’t a painting.”
“But love is beautiful, yes?” She smiles wide. “It’s inspired centuries of brilliant artists. Could do the same for you.”
I glance back to Cora, her gaze lifting and smile growing as our eyes meet. Yeah, she’s inspired all kinds of hope in my chest. But not to pursue a career in art. No, she’s stoked a different dream I’d long lost. One in which I’m able to envision a future and happiness. Family. Partnership. She’s given me more than I deserve, but I’d be a fool to let it pass me by.
“Thank you for all your work and keeping my darlings safe.” Gwen pats my arm, her gaze on the trailer full of her crated paintings. Within the hour they’ll be headed back to museums and her personal residence. I wonder if she ever imagined she’d see them together again. Or that they’d make a movie of her life.
“It was an honor.” Not an exaggeration. To meet this woman, let alone watch over paintings that helped shape the history of contemporary art, is a privilege I’m grateful for.
“Oh, there’s Isabella.” She pats my arm again, catching my stare as she shuffles by. She turns to point in my direction. “If you’re ever brave enough to tell your fear to go fuck itself, maybe someday you’ll show me your art. You have my card.”
My mouth falls open at her vulgar language. Maybe a little at her accusation. I’m not scared. Not of that.
She laughs, shaking her head knowingly, offering another bit of advice before she turns her back. “And treat that girl right. She deserves the world.”
Now, that’s something I agree with.
Forty-Four
Cora
“Okay. That’s a wrap,” Isabella shouts and everyone applauds. Today was the final day of production with a full staff, and it’s long past dinner. I haven’t eaten since lunch time and my stomach groans in protest. We’re all exhausted. Elated at what’s been accomplished. A few eyes fill with tears and people embrace as the significance of this moment hits. Months in the making, traveling to another country, and creating this film—we’re not just saying good-bye, we’re closing a chapter on something special. When it opens in theaters next year, hopefully others will feel the same.
“Cora!” Isabella pulls me in for a hug.
“Thank you.” I manage to speak without shedding tears. “I will never forget this opportunity.”
“You did good.” She meets my smile and squeezes my arm. “You did better than I ever imagined.”
“Because of you.”
“Stop.” She shakes her head, but it’s true. I couldn’t have delivered such a bold performance without her guidance and direction. She believed I had it in me from the start. “We’ll be in touch for any re-shoots next month.”
“Oh, come on.” Scott interrupts, pulling me against his side for a hug. “We were perfection.”
Isabella rolls her eyes but lets loose a laugh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m going to miss you, Scott.”
I step back to give them space, and say farewell to some of my favorite staff before heading to Makeup and Wardrobe.
“Hey, Cora.” Isabella catches my gaze. “Before you leave, get with my assistant.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just something we need to address.”
Shit. Did I do something wrong? I can’t imagine what would require such a meeting. Maybe she found out about my relationship with Isaac? Though I don’t see how it’s a problem. Even if it is, today is his last day on set. “I’ll check in before I leave?”
“No rush. We’ll be here awhile.”
Even though she doesn’t seem upset, her words stick in the back of my head. I say good-bye to everyone, change back into my own clothes so Wardrobe can pick them up, then let De’Shaun remove my wig while Rae tackles the aging makeup. I decide to take a quick shower before I meet up for our celebratory dinner with the cast and staff. I’m in my trailer freshly showered and dressed when my phone rings from where it’s charging on the table. I glance at the screen. It’s my agent.
My gut clenches with nerves. A few days ago, I read for the casting director of The Uprising. Since then I’ve tried not to give it much thought. The idea of moving halfway across the world gives me hives. I don’t want to leave LA. I am not ready to leave Isaac, which is an unfamiliar feeling. I’ve always been excited for the next adventure. Ready for something new and my next big role. But for once, I can’t think of anything I want that isn’t already here.
Maybe they don’t offer me the role. Maybe the decision gets made for me. “Hey, Lydia.”
“I hope you’re sitting down.” The excitement in her voice is undeniable. “I have news.”
“Tell me.” I plop onto the nearest chair, my body sinking into the seat along with my heart.
I try to put the phone call with my agent out of my head, at least for dinner, but I must not do a very good job.
“Hey, why the long face?” Scott says, pulling an empty chair from another table and scooting next to my side.
“Just tired.” A half-truth. I glance at my phone, wishing I had the courage to call Isaac. To drive over there and have a hard conversation, but also too emotional to do that tonight. Besides, he’s already sleeping. Unloading my shit on him would only ease the heaviness on my heart, not fix the problem. “I think I’m gonna head out soon.”
“Nooo.” He pouts, setting his beer on the table and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “I need you to rally. This is our last hurrah! Jennifer is meeting up with us for drinks and she’ll be pissed if you aren’t here.”