Chapter 23 Miles
MILES
Skye won’t look at me when I leave her to her writing. I didn’t mean to offend her by suggesting she come with me on the shoot. And I really didn’t mean to almost say “I love you.”
What was I thinking? The words were tumbling out on their own, but I stopped myself. After our agreement on what our relationship is, it wouldn’t have been wise. But when has anyone ever accused me of being that? Never.
It was selfish to ask her to come with me on the shoot. I just don’t want to be without her for a whole week or possibly more. It’s ridiculous, I suppose. At the end of this month, we will have to part ways, and if a week feels like an eternity, what will our final goodbye feel like?
Maybe it doesn’t have to be final. We could do long-distance. Or Skye might want to come to LA. Although with how she reacted to a week away from her life, that doesn’t seem likely.
My phone buzzes in my hand. It’s Jake.
“Jake. How’s your leg?”
“It’s healing. But I’m so bored. I got the video games you sent, though. They are currently saving my sanity. How’s jolly old Scotland?”
“I’m pretty sure they don’t call it that.”
“How would I know? How’s it going anyway?”
I sigh.
“What’s going on? That’s not a good sigh. That’s a spiraling into dark thoughts, sigh.”
Jake knows me a little too well. “It’s nothing, really. I think the picture is going well.” I shut the door to my room and plop down on my bed. “It’s just some other stuff.”
“It’s that redhead from the YHF photo, isn’t it?”
I sit bolt upright. “How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess.”
If Jake can guess that from thousands of miles away, how bad a job have I been doing at hiding our relationship from everyone else?
It couldn’t hurt to tell Jake, though. He is, after all, very far away and always discreet. Plus, I’m bursting. I have to talk to someone about Skye. She’s all I ever want to talk about, and not being able to is eating me from the inside out.
“Okay, yes, it’s Skye. The redhead from the photo. We’re…” What are we doing? “We’re having a fling.”
“A…what?”
I pace around my tiny room. “That’s what we agreed upon, but that’s the problem, really. I think about her all the time. When I’m on my morning run, when I’m on the set, when I close my eyes to sleep at night, she’s all I see.”
I can practically hear Jake shaking his head on the other line. “That doesn’t sound like a fling.”
I put Jake on speakerphone and start packing. “No. It doesn’t feel like one either. I’ll be honest… It feels a lot like love.”
“Love, really?”
I nod and then remember this isn’t FaceTime.
“Yes. I’ve honestly never felt this way before.
I mean, I thought I loved Lana, but she never felt the same way for me.
We had a physical relationship, but to her, it didn’t go beyond that.
It was just me in my respective corner, pining for her.
I’ve had some strong feelings for other women, too, but this is different. It’s all-consuming.”
“Have you told her how you feel?”
“No. How can I? We were so clear about what this was. Plus, I just invited her to go with me on location at the next place, and she turned me down. She seemed pissed I’d asked.
How would long-distance work if she can’t leave the castle for even a week?
I can’t move to Scotland.” I pause with a sweater in my hand, hovering above my bag.
Could I move to Scotland? I could fly to any location that was shooting, which 80% of the time is in LA.
But no. My mom is in LA. How could I leave her there?
Then again, my brother is there too, and my sister, with her three kids and perfect husband, so my mom wouldn’t be lonely.
She doesn’t really need me there. Moving is not an impossible thought.
“Miles? Are you still there?”
“Yes.”
“You can’t move to Scotland. Has she even asked you to?”
I sit down on the bed, the soft comforter squishing a little extra under the heaviness of my heart. “No.”
“Right. You’ve said you were both very clear that this was supposed to be casual. So you need to keep it light, right? Give it some space. Go on your shoot. Get some distance. Next week, when you come back, it’ll all look different.”
Jake is probably right.
“Now, have you been doing the workouts I sent you?”
I’ve been working out, that’s for sure, but not with Jake’s set routines as much as I should. “A little.”
“Let’s do some planks right now. Just a couple two-minute holds. No sweat.”
Jake was wrong. There’s a lot of sweat. In fact, by the time I hang up, I’m covered in sweat.
I head to the bathroom for a quick rinse off before bed.
When I open the door, light is streaming out from under Skye’s door.
I want to knock, to give her a goodnight kiss, but Jake’s words ring in my head. Give it some space.
I turn toward the bathroom instead. Maybe while I’m away, she’ll realize she can’t live without me. And when I get back, we’ll figure out how we can make this work for real. I soak in the tub, letting the warm water soothe my sore muscles. And another thought trickles in…
Or maybe we’ll both see it really was just a fling.
After the bath, I try to run through the scenes in my head as I drift off to sleep, but I just see Skye’s blue eyes staring at me under hooded lashes.
Then I try to mentally pick out what I’m going to eat in the morning, but instead, I see Skye’s hair falling in her face as she sits on my lap.
It goes on like that until finally I drift off picturing Skye with her legs on my lap, her silky calf in my hands at SOWK.
The morning is frantic. Calling it “morning” is generous.
We’re leaving while it’s still dark so we can shoot at sunrise.
I grab a travel mug of coffee, keeping my eyes peeled the whole time for Skye.
But she is nowhere to be seen. For once, I might be up before her.
I throw my bag in the van and take a seat near the back. I’m in no mood for conversation.
“There you are,” Ava says as she climbs in and takes the seat right next to mine. She has a bright-red beanie on and a matching cropped puffer jacket.
“Want to run lines on the way?”
No. I want to stare out the window and pine, to mope, to act like a sullen teenager who has to leave his girlfriend to go on a stupid family vacation.
But I’m not a teenager. I’m a full-grown man.
Besides, Ava looks so shiny-faced and earnest. I know this film means a lot to her.
It could be her first Oscar. It meant a lot to me, too. Means.
“Sure,” I say.
Blessedly, Ty is in the other van, and so must be Minnie.
Why does their relationship bother me so much?
I don’t want her to get hurt, and Ty bulldozes through everything and everyone in his life.
I thought we were really good friends before he stole my part and my girl, all right under my nose, and I had no idea it was happening.
None at all. I don’t want her to feel like I felt: betrayed and stupid.
“Miles, it’s your line,” Ava says.
“Ah, sorry.”
We pass the rest of the car ride running through our lines, passing the odd farmhouse here and there, dark shapes against murky fields.
There’s a good long stretch of road where we follow the water, looking like liquid silver in the dim light.
The sky is a pearly gray with wisps of pink caressing snowcapped mountains when we pull up to our site.
There is a crystal-clear lake perfectly reflecting the hills behind it.
The frosted grass crunches underneath my feet.
My breath comes out in white clouds so thick it seems like I could say, Who are you, and it would be spelled out just like the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.
I’m not looking forward to the bare thighs my costume requires this morning.
The crew works fast to erect two tents; one for costumes and one for snacks, both with heat lamps connected to a small generator.
I head off toward the costume tent, resigned to my fate.
The kilt is made of such thick wool; it’s not as bad as I feared, and the cold I do feel helps me get into my character a bit more.
This morning is Thora’s last scene. When the film is all finished, she’ll only be in the first fifteen minutes of the movie, but we haven’t been shooting chronologically, and there are some flashbacks featuring her. They saved her character’s death for her final scene, though, which seems fitting.
We are both standing on the sidelines, she’s wearing a massive coat to keep the chill out, while they set up the lights.
I nudge her with my shoulder. “You ready for the big scene?”
She nods, her face unreadable. “I am.”
“What are you going to do after you’ve wrapped? Are you going to head right back to the States?”
“No. I’m going to stick around for a while. I really love Scotland. I’m thinking about staying.”
“Really?” I’m not sure why this surprises me so much. “In Foyers, or are you going to travel?”
Thora smiles, and it lights up her whole face. You can see the younger woman she used to be, not that she isn’t still beautiful. I’m not an ageist by any means. Just that it lightens her. “Actually, I’ve fallen in love with more than just Scotland.”
“Come on,” Natalie yells. “It’s showtime. Let’s set up.”
As we head to our marks, my head is reeling.
Is Thora in love with Callum? I had noticed they were together a lot, but love?
It seems like an awfully short amount of time.
Then again, who am I to talk? There’s something about those Ainslies.
Some kind of magic in their eyes. But move to Scotland?
Is she going to live in the castle? Does Skye know?
I’m distracted during the shoot, and it’s a few takes before I’m fully submerged in the scene. I feel bad about it. It’s so cold, Thora’s lips are a little blue, despite the expertly applied lipstick.
Once Natalie yells cut, everyone on the shoot is on their feet, clapping. It is a massive standing ovation for Thora. I join in. She is a true talent. She smiles, her cheeks pink, and gives everyone an exaggerated bow.
I offer her my arm as we both head to the costume tent to warm up. “Sorry about the extra takes. My mind was in the clouds.”
She shrugs. “It happens. You’re a wonderful actor. I’m sure we got a good one.”
The thought of her packing up and moving her whole life to Scotland is still bothering me. “Will you keep acting? If you move here, I mean?”
Thora tilts her head to one side and then the other, as if rolling the question around in her head.
“It is my greatest passion. But maybe it’s time I explore some new passions in my life.
I might try to write my memoir. Or I’ve thought about trying my hand at cooking, maybe making my own version of what Florence Pugh did on TikTok, Golden Girls style, obviously. Have you seen her little cooking bits?”
I shake my head. “TikTok only shows me videos of the North Sea at the moment. It’s all raging tides, whirlpools, and pirate dirges.”
“Well, the little cooking bits are delightful. I was thinking I could do a longer-form version of learning to cook at the ripe old age of, well, no need for exact numbers, but you get the point. If the right role came along, though, I would snatch it up in a heartbeat.”
I nod, amazed by her bravery to try something new. I started acting as a kid. It’s all I know, but is it my greatest passion? And if it’s not, then what am I doing clinging on to it like it’s a life raft in the North Sea?