Chapter 12
Ava
Chase and I head straight for our chairs as makeup swarms in for last-minute touch-ups.
Jay pops out of his director’s chair and joins us, clapping his hands once before patting each of us on the back like we’re about to run a marathon.
“Christmas Eve, people. The locals are getting restless, and I’d like to get out of here before we all start seeing Bob Marley’s ghost.”
“I think you mean Jacob Marley,” Chase says.
“Either one.” He turns to me. “How are we doing?”
“I’m good,” I say quickly. “Sorry about earlier. Must’ve been low blood sugar. I’m completely focused now.”
Elated, he fists the air. “That’s the spirit!” Jay hands Chase and me rewrites for two upcoming scenes. “Then let’s wrap this up.” His grin is wide.
Mine drops like a rock.
I glance at my watch. Then at the stack of pages that will take six hours to get through.
On a good day.
In exactly three hours, the kids are supposed to call. A daily ritual that’s become the best part of my day.
Yesterday my time with them got cut short for a last-minute wardrobe change.
One producer wanted Bridgerton. For an hour, I dragged around a hoop skirt the size of a small planet.
The other wanted warrior princess. With actual chainmail.
It’s heavy, loud, and apparently designed by people who hate women.
After five hours, they agreed to table it.
The last thing I need is an encore of that.
Not today.
I clear my throat. “I, uh… hate to ask, but is there any chance I could get out of here early today?”
Jay looks at me like I just asked to borrow his house for a rave.
“Please.” I bat my best puppy-dog eyes at him while nudging Chase with my elbow.
“Uh, yeah, me too,” Chase jumps in. “I need to leave early as well. I, uh… have a thing.”
Jay shoots him a look. “A thing? Is there a catfight somewhere missing a player?”
“Every night of the week.” Chase shrugs. “Also, I could’ve sworn you said we’d get out of here early today.”
“That’s what I heard,” I add, hopeful. “Something about the contractually obligated skeleton crew sharpening their pitchforks…”
Jay looks between us, then at the crew, then checks his watch.
Defeated, he sighs and waves a hand. “Fine. Get your lines right and you’ve got a deal. We’ll knock out a few more scenes and call it a day. Fair?”
I smile, relieved. “More than fair.”
“Places, everyone!” Jay calls, slipping into full director mode.
We head to our marks, Chase falling into step beside me.
Quietly, just for me, he murmurs, “We should make it interesting. A shot of tequila every time you call me Harrison.”
I shoot him a look. “You’re on.”
For three hours, I nail it.
No missed lines. No calling Chase Harrison.
And absolutely no thinking about my big, burly lumberjack.
Who still hasn’t called.
Ugh. What is it with men?
At least I have the kids’ call to look forward to.
Chase and I wait as the production team huddles over the script, murmuring, nodding as they come to some kind of agreement I can only pray doesn’t involve a headdress the size of a chandelier.
“Let’s skip ahead to page 385,” Jay calls. “Then we’ll wrap.”
Finally. I flip ahead, scanning until the scene clicks back into place.
Oh.
Shit.
I swallow against the sudden dryness in my throat.
Princess Luna’s eyes close as the knight moves in for a kiss.
A kiss.
Why does that suddenly feel… weird?
I’ve kissed plenty of men. You’d think I’d have this down to a science. And yet, here I am, pulse spiked to the moon.
“What’s wrong?” Chase murmurs, frowning.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?”
“You’re making a face.”
“What face?”
“The one usually reserved for when I drink milk in the morning.”
I almost laugh.
“It’s ridiculous,” I mutter. “It’s just… I haven’t done a kiss scene since I got married.”
Curiosity flickers in his expression. “Does that bother you?”
Because nothing says unbothered like hesitating over a PG-13 kiss while mentally spiraling over what my husband will think.
And if my broody lumberjack needed another reason not to call… congratulations. He’s got one.
A production assistant rushes up. “They want to take it from the ‘I love you.’” He points to Chase, then to me. “‘I love you too,’ meet in the middle. Slow it down—real slow-burn. We’ll run some lighting shifts on this one.”
Great.
A lead weight drops to the bottom of my gut.
Why am I so bothered by this?
Oh. Right.
Because this kiss could last twenty damn minutes.
“Reset!” Jay calls.
We take our places.
“Action.”
Chase: “Princess Luna…” He takes my hands in his. “I love you.”
Me: “I—” I bite my lip, trying to look natural. In love. Not mildly horrified. “I love you too.”
We move slowly toward each other.
Chase slows… then stops, giving me time to meet him halfway.
And instead of meeting him halfway, I just…
Freeze.
Like a Greek freaking statue.
Not moving. Not kissing.
Not keeping your job, Ava, if I don’t get it together.
In a rush, Chase jerks back, a strangled look crossing his face. He turns his head away with a sharp inhale—
“Hh—hh—hchoo!”
He sneezes.
I blink at him.
Oh.
I know that sneeze.
It’s his I double-booked dates and need an instant flu exit strategy.
Which worked every time. Until he double-booked two nurses.
“Hh—CHH!” He doubles down. “Sorry—hang on—”
He bends over, waving a hand like he’s fighting for his life while I try not to grin.
Jay’s eyes start to bulge.
I cross my arms, grateful and amused as Chase battles invisible allergies. I mean, he’s gotten really good at it.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I murmur.
He shoots me a quick wink between sneezes, then really commits, ruffling his hair so thoroughly they’ll need a full reset.
One last, extra-loud sneeze, and chuckles erupt from the crew.
Apparently, that’s Chase’s cue. He bolts, sneezing his way off set like he’s patient zero trying to contain the outbreak.
And I owe him. Big time.
Jay throws his hands up. “Cut! That’s a wrap, folks.”
Then he huddles with the producers for a second before making his way toward me.
Oh, hell.
What now?
Me frolicking through snow wrapped in a faux bear skin rug?
“We’re thinking a change of scenery. A few months, tops.”
He says it casually, but his eyes are watching my face like he’s testing the waters.
I paste on a smile. “Sounds great.”
And what does it matter?
Harrison’s ghosting me anyway.
Jay drapes an arm around my shoulders like he’s already picturing the movie poster. “How are you with cold weather and northern lights?”