The Girl Most Likely To

Epilogue

A Year Later

These days, time was my currency of choice. Too bad I was always running out of it. I knocked on Nat’s trailer door.

“Come on, Nat. We need you on set.”

I stepped back, narrowly missing it swinging out at my face. With Nat’s shabby costume and graphic eyeliner, she carried a threatening aura born out of her character’s desperation. I would’ve been shaking in my boots if I didn’t recognize Nat’s grumpy face. I must’ve woken her up from a nap.

“I liked you better when you were my assistant,”

she grumbled.

“Those days are long gone, my friend.”

After I quit, I gave myself permission to do whatever I wanted. I slept in until ten and watched movies all day. That lasted a good three days before I was bored. I gave resting a good college try, but I wasn’t built to stay still and that was okay. I didn’t have to fight it, but I couldn’t go back to a life that prioritized work. Not when I had someone to spend my time with.

I scheduled that meeting with Gloria while the offer was still fresh. She brought me on to help her read scripts, and it was a dream job. Gloria let me shadow her and showed me how she shepherded projects to fruition. It was a great education, but staying in the office all day wore me down. When there was a call for help on set for the movie Gloria convinced Nat to star in, a quirky murder mystery à la Knives Out, I jumped at the chance. A week later, I was on a plane to Vancouver to handle the day-to-day logistics. It was an added bonus to see Nat tackle a new role.

Gloria warned me it was going to be tough. The director was running behind and costs had ballooned, so it was up to me to overhaul the schedule to make it as efficient as possible. It was a headache, but it was thrilling once things were back on track. The shoot was almost over. We’d flown back in LA the night before to get some exterior shots. Now if only the talent would cooperate.

Nat huffed as she came down the stairs. “If you want to fight, I’ll have you warned that I have a green belt in tae kwon do.”

“Geez, did you miss your meditation session this morning? I’m just doing my job.”

“Oh,”

Nat said, trading in her tough attitude for something sweeter. “Rach. I was practicing my line.”

She got me there. That was good. “Save it for the set,”

I said, fighting through a yawn.

We were pushing through a late-night shoot on location in Chinatown, a cliché choice for a film with a predominantly Asian cast, in my opinion. According to Mike, the director, this was his way of paying homage to one of his favorite films, Rush Hour. Though if that were the case, I wondered why he insisted on using the same building used in Freaky Friday instead of Foo Chow Restaurant. It didn’t add up, but I wasn’t hired to question artistic decisions. I was hired to make things happen. It took some creative budgeting solutions and the right permits to get us here. The caveat was that we had to get the shots tonight. There was no time or money to do this again.

Nat replied with her own yawn. “Stop doing that. You know I yawn if you yawn. You can’t hang like you used to.”

“Nope.”

This project had to wrap tonight. I couldn’t handle any more late nights.

“So is that a no for drinks after?”

she called out as she walked backward to her mark.

“Rain check,”

I said, taking my seat in the back of video village. I was going to leave as soon as the director called cut. I couldn’t wait to get back home and crawl into bed with Danny. I’d been in Vancouver for a month, and I’d hardly seen him since I came back. I had so much to tell him.

Lanterns and neon signs appeared on the monitors set up in the front. I rubbed my watery eyes, creating trails of electric red and teal in my vision as I fought another yawn. Mike glared at me over his shoulder.

“Sorry,”

I mouthed before he turned back around to call action. Maybe if he wasn’t so particular about his takes, we wouldn’t be up this late. I kept that thought to myself.

I sat up when I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket, thankfully not loud enough for anyone to notice. I quickly pressed the side buttons to silence the phone before checking my messages.

Danny: babe when are you coming home?

Danny: it’s getting late

Danny: are you going to be okay driving home?

He must’ve forgotten that Nat and I commuted to set together. I’d crashed at her place after our flight from Vancouver to stay closer to downtown.

Rachel: don’t worry about it

Danny: I’ll pick you up

Danny: don’t argue with me

Rachel: you’re so bossy

Danny: you like it that way

Rachel: only sometimes

Danny: then stay put

Danny: can’t wait to see your face

And I couldn’t wait to see his.

On-screen, Nat stormed out of a red building, ruthlessly pushing people out of her way as she chased her costar through historic Central Plaza. I’d read the script multiple times with Nat, but it was one thing to read the words. To see actors breathe life into their characters was nothing short of magic. Nat finally apprehended her costar, and after an exchange of threats, the plot twist was revealed. The shot closed in on Nat’s face as her eyes grew frightened, understanding that she’d gotten the whole thing wrong—that the person believed to be dead might actually be alive. After one last, shuddery breath, the director called cut.

“That’s a wrap!”

he shouted into the bullhorn.

Cheers erupted across the set.

“Shhh. We have to keep it down or residents will complain,”

I reminded them, but no one listened. I couldn’t really blame the cast and crew. It’d been a journey to get here, so I gave in to the festivities. It was going to be my problem anyway, not theirs.

After a rousing farewell speech from our director and a few pictures with the cast and crew, I walked down the block to make sure all the equipment was getting loaded. We had to get out of there before the city shut us down.

Danny appeared like something out of a dream. He was leaning against his car with his hands in his pockets, so he was a little slow to catch me when I ran to him.

“What are you doing here?”

I said, clutching him tight. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Oof,”

he said when his back hit the passenger door. “Take it easy. I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I am!”

I said, peppering his face with kisses. “I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

“Nah. I just came from your parents’ house.”

My parents’ house? “What were you doing there?”

“Helping them clean out their junk.”

“Why? You still think my parents don’t like you?”

Danny thought I’d put him at a disadvantage when I sprang him on my parents, but that was hardly the case. My parents liked him. They told me so every time I called.

“I gotta give Lucas a run for his money on this favorite son-in-law business.”

“We’re not married yet.”

We weren’t even engaged. “I’ll remind my parents not to call you that.”

“Don’t,”

Danny said. “It’s only been a few months since your dad stopped calling me ‘Rachel’s boy.’”

I laughed, though Danny wasn’t as amused by my dad’s hazing. “You know, I turned on your old computer before I took it to recycling. Guess what I found?”

Danny unfolded a piece of paper covered with lines and lines of code. It was hard to make out anything until Danny turned on the flashlight on his phone. To my horror, it was a copy of our old AIM chats.

“Nooooo.”

It was pure teenage cringe from 1999. “How did you get this?”

“There was an archived log of our messages.”

I took the paper and read it, holding it close to my chest. If there was anything embarrassing, I could easily destroy the evidence.

xxaznxbbxgrlxx: who really thinks that they’ll get money from sending an email to 10 friends?

SuperxSaiyan85: don’t click the link. it’s a virus

xxaznxbbxgrlxx: have you heard that Got Rice song

SuperxSaiyan85: they better take that shit down before tupac sues them

xxaznxbbxgrlxx: do you think he’s still alive?

SuperxSaiyan85: I don’t think. I believe.

“Oh my god.”

Did we really have nothing better to do? “Why did you print this?”

“It’s the start of our fated relationship. I thought it’d be nice to have.”

Danny’s shy smile had me backpedaling, but then he added, “There’s plenty more where this came from. I backed up the files before I dumped the computer.”

“Oh no,”

I protested. “No one can ever know about this.”

“Okay. It’ll be our little secret, then.”

Danny folded the paper and stuffed it back in his pocket. “You ready to go home?”

We’d only been living together for two months before I left for Vancouver. It still gave me a thrill to hear him call it our home. “Wait. I have something to tell you. It’s kind of important.”

“Let’s get in the car.”

Danny moved to open the passenger door, but I stopped him.

“No, I have to tell you now. It’s probably best before you get behind the wheel.”

“Uh, okay.”

Danny eyed me warily. “What is it?”

I’d thought about waiting for a special time to share my news, but seeing his face after this long night, bright with love and affection, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I’m late.”

“To what?”

Danny looked over my shoulder, where the crew was still packing up. “Is there a wrap party or something?”

Danny wasn’t catching my drift. It was probably hard for him to understand, since it was coming from someone who was prompt to a fault.

I palmed his cheek. “Remember when I told you that I wanted to produce this movie? And that I’d be gone for a whole month?”

“Uh-huh . . .”

“And then we . . . you know . . .”

“Oh.”

Danny pressed his hips into mine. “I remember,”

he purred as he kissed me. I had to stop him before we got sidetracked.

“Well, I’m late.”

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in, but when Danny got it, unadulterated joy washed over his face.

“Are you sure?”

Before I could answer, he lifted me off the ground. It was hard not to beam right back at him. He spun me around but quickly came to a halt. Happiness was replaced by worry. “Should I have not done that?”

“It’s fine—”

He knelt down and pressed his face on my stomach. “Is this for real?”

I ran my fingers through his hair. “According to three tests, yes. What do you think?”

This past year with Danny had been one of the best of my life. We were still getting to know each other, but we knew enough to discuss a future together. We’d talked seriously about having kids since we weren’t getting any younger. While we weren’t actively trying, we weren’t preventing it either.

“What do I think?”

Danny asked my stomach. “I think I’m already in love with this baby. What about you, though?”

He stood up. “You had goals for this year.”

I tried to hold back my tears before he got the wrong idea. They weren’t tears of sadness or regret. This was my goal too. To find joy and love. This was more than I could hope for. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”