Chapter 21
GRACE
The plane was chaos in the best possible way.
Micah chartered a whole aircraft just for us—cast, crew, producers, and assistants. It felt like the first day of summer camp, except with better snacks and adult beverages.
I settled into my window seat and watched the organized mayhem unfold around me. Grips were tossing bags of chips to each other across the aisle. Someone had already broken out a deck of cards in the back.
Everyone buzzed with excitement. We lived in a pretty spectacular part of the country, but nothing beat Hawaii. There was just something about the island and turquoise water. Freedom.
And obviously we were all celebrating a pretty damn successful week of shooting. We’d gotten through the hardest part of the shoot, weathered the scandal, and now we were heading to paradise to finish what we’d started.
I fucking loved it.
This was what I’d dreamed about since I was a kid.
Not just acting but being part of a creative family.
I remembered the parties my parents threw at our house.
I loved watching the camaraderie between the actors.
Of course, there were plenty of squabbles, but for the most part, they all became a family for a few months.
Some of the shoots would last six months.
It was magic, and I got to be right in the middle of it.
Jack had chartered his own plane, of course. Probably couldn’t handle being treated like a mere mortal for five hours. I wasn’t complaining. His absence meant the energy on our flight was lighter, more relaxed. People actually laughed without looking over their shoulders first.
And I had zero desire to be on a flying metal tube with Chantilly. That woman was a lot. Add in her husband and I might be looking for a parachute.
Micah was a few rows ahead across the aisle. He had his laptop open and papers spread across the tray table. Even from here, I could see the tension in his body. The guy needed a massage. Or something else to help loosen him up.
I volunteered to help him work out the kinks.
God, I was falling for him.
Hard.
It wasn’t just that he was gorgeous—though he absolutely was. Those blue eyes were mesmerizing. The mess his hair became when he ran his hands through it a hundred times during a stressful day was devastating.
It wasn’t just his looks. He was a lot more than a pretty face.
He challenged me, but never in a way that felt condescending. He pushed because he believed I could deliver. No one believed that of me, except maybe my agent.
And watching him work was its own kind of turn-on. The man was brilliant. The way he could see a scene in his head before anyone else. I listened to him explain his vision to the set department. He made directing look effortless, even though I knew it was anything but.
I wanted to go up there. Slide into the empty seat next to him. Make some excuse about needing to discuss a scene. Anything to be close to him, to feel that electric charge that sparked between us whenever we were in the same space.
But I didn’t.
He had work to do. Hawaii was going to be intense. We had a compressed schedule and a lot of ground to cover. The underwater sequences alone were going to be a logistical nightmare. He needed to focus, needed to make sure every detail was locked down before we hit the ground.
I didn’t want to be a distraction.
And we couldn’t be seen canoodling by the rest of the crew. I couldn’t wait until the production was over and we could be seen together. I’d miss the whole filming thing, but if I had him, I wouldn’t have much time to miss work.
I stayed in my seat, watching him from across the cabin like some lovesick teenager. Pathetic, really. But I couldn’t help it. Every few minutes, my eyes drifted back to him. The way he chewed on his pen when he was thinking. The way he occasionally rubbed the back of his neck.
At one point, he looked over and caught me staring. Our eyes met across the crowded plane. He smiled and it was like his fingers were tracing down my spine. My body physically reacted.
He went back to his work, and I went back to pretending I wasn’t completely obsessed with him.
It was fine. We’d find time in Hawaii. Stolen moments between setups. Maybe a late-night walk on the beach when everyone else was asleep. The islands were romantic as hell. Surely we could carve out some space for us.
I pulled out my script and started reviewing scenes, trying to channel some of Micah’s focus. Unfortunately, the words blurred on the page. And dammit, my mind kept wandering back to him.
Toby flopped into the seat next to me, a bag of pretzels in hand.
“You look deep in thought.”
“Just running lines in my head.”
“Want me to run them with you?”
“Sure.”
The flight felt endless and too short at the same time. Five hours of being in the same enclosed space as him but not being able to touch him.
I had it bad.
The islands emerged from the clouds. The whole plane went quiet as we all focused on the scene unfolding below us. Lush green mountains, white sand beaches, water so blue it looked photoshopped. A collective gasp went through the cabin.
“Holy shit,” someone behind me breathed.
My sentiments exactly.
We landed smoothly and taxied to a private terminal. The doors opened and warm, humid air flooded the cabin, carrying the scent of plumeria and salty sea air. I stepped off the plane and felt the tension melt away.
Paradise. We were actually in paradise.
A group of locals waited for us on the tarmac, their arms full of flower leis. One by one, they draped the fragrant garlands around our necks, greeting each of us with a warm “Aloha” and a kiss on the cheek.
The flowers were soft against my skin, the scent intoxicating. I kept sticking my nose in the flowers and inhaling.
I watched Micah receive his lei a few feet away. The purple and white flowers looked almost comical against his all-black outfit. But when the elderly Hawaiian man said something to him, Micah’s flashed that gorgeous smile that made my knees weak.
Our eyes met. He raised an eyebrow, gesturing to his lei with a look that said can you believe this? I grinned back, touching my own flowers.
We piled into a fleet of vans for the drive to the hotel. I ended up sandwiched between Toby and one of the sound guys, watching the scenery roll by through the window. Palm trees swayed in the breeze. Everything was so green, so alive.
I hoped we had some time to explore. I hadn’t seen the call sheets yet, but there was no way we’d be working twenty-four-seven.
The hotel was stunning—one of those massive resorts that sprawled across the coastline. White buildings with terracotta roofs. Manicured gardens bursting with tropical flowers. A pool that seemed to blend seamlessly into the ocean beyond.
The serenity that they probably advertised was absolutely destroyed by our arrival. The lobby was pure chaos. People everywhere all talking excitedly. Micah stood at the front desk, his laptop open on the counter, working with the hotel concierge to sort out the room assignments.
I hung back near a massive arrangement of birds of paradise, watching the circus unfold. Patty had disappeared somewhere with my bags, promising to text me my room number once everything was sorted.
That’s when Jack and Chantilly made their entrance.
Of course they had to make an entrance.
They swept through the lobby doors like they were walking a red carpet, Chantilly in some kind of flowing caftan that actually hurt my eyes. Jack in designer sunglasses despite being indoors. A small army of assistants trailed behind them, wheeling enough luggage to clothe a small nation.
I watched them glide up to the reception desk.
“This won’t do,” Chantilly announced, loud enough for half the lobby to hear. “Jack needs ocean views. And a proper suite. Not a standard room.”
I rolled my eyes.
Always a spectacle.
The poor hotel manager who’d materialized to greet them looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “Mrs. Montana, I assure you the room is quite lovely.”
“Lovely isn’t good enough.” Chantilly’s voice could have cut glass. “My husband is the star of this production. He requires accommodations befitting his status.”
I watched the drama unfold with amusement. Jack stood slightly behind his wife, letting her do all the heavy lifting while he checked his phone. Classic.
“Perhaps the presidential suite?” the manager suggested weakly. “It’s our finest accommodation. Private lanai and panoramic ocean views.”
“Is anyone else staying in a presidential suite?” Chantilly asked in a haughty tone.
“No, ma’am. It’s our only one.”
Chantilly smiled like a cat who’d caught a particularly fat canary. “Perfect. We’ll take it.”
I caught Micah glancing over his shoulder at me. He’d clearly been eavesdropping on the whole exchange while pretending to focus on the check-in process. When our eyes met, his lips twitched. I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing out loud.
He rolled his eyes so subtly that only I would have caught it. I made a face. We didn’t need words. We both knew exactly what the other was thinking.
God, I loved that. The silent communication. The shared jokes that didn’t require any words. It felt intimate in a way that actual conversations sometimes didn’t.
Eventually, miraculously, everyone got sorted. Patty appeared at my elbow with a keycard and a relieved expression.
“You’re in suite 847,” she said. “Ocean view, private balcony. I had your bags sent up already.”
“Suite?” I blinked at her. “I don’t need a suite.”
“You’re the female lead, Ms. Stone. You get a suite.” She patted my arm like I was a confused child. “It’s in your contract.”
Right. I kept forgetting I wasn’t playing a corpse anymore. I took the keycard and made my way to the elevators, weaving through the crowd of crew members still milling around the lobby. The elevator was blissfully empty. I leaned against the wall and let out a long breath.
Suite 847 was gorgeous. Spacious living area with a plush sectional. King-sized bed that felt like a cloud. And the view was spectacular. I stepped out onto the balcony and just stood there, letting the ocean breeze wash over me.
And I was thinking about Micah beside me appreciating the view.
His own patio provided a similar view, but this was Hawaii.
It was prettier. Intoxicating. I needed to leave him alone tonight.
He had a million things to handle before tomorrow’s call time.
I was not going to be the distraction that derailed his carefully planned schedule.
I was going to be professional. Focused. A good colleague who respected boundaries and understood priorities. Shower, eat, and go to bed at a reasonable hour like a responsible adult.
Tomorrow was going to be intense. I wouldn’t just be competing for screen time against my fellow actors. I had to compete with the scenery. The scenes required me to be at my absolute best. I needed rest. I needed to be sharp.
After about an hour of lying on that cloud of a bed, staring at the ceiling and definitely not thinking about Micah, I was restless. And hungry. The granola bar I’d scarfed down on the plane had long since abandoned me.
Room service felt too predictable. Too boring. I was in Hawaii, for God’s sake. I should be eating something authentic, not some overpriced hotel burger that tasted the same as every other overpriced hotel burger I’d ever had.
I threw on some clothes and sandals and headed down to the lobby. The chaos from earlier had mostly settled. A few crew members were scattered around the bar area, but the frantic energy had dissipated into something more relaxed.
The concierge was a young guy with a warm smile and a name tag that read “Kai.” He looked up as I approached.
“Aloha! How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for good local food,” I said. “Not tourist stuff. Something authentic. Preferably something I can get delivered.”
His face lit up. “Oh, you want Auntie Lani’s. Best poke on the island. She doesn’t do delivery usually, but…” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Tell her Kai sent you. She’ll make an exception.”
He scribbled a phone number on a piece of hotel stationery and handed it to me. “Trust me.”
I called the number and placed an order, double everything, telling myself it was because I’d want leftovers tomorrow.
That was a lie. I knew exactly what I was doing.
Forty minutes later, I was standing in the lobby with two massive bags of food that smelled absolutely incredible. My stomach growled way too loudly.
I should just go back to my room. Eat this feast alone on my balcony while watching the sunset. That would be the smart thing to do.
Instead, I found myself walking toward the elevators and pressing the button for Micah’s floor.
I’d overheard Patty mention his room number earlier. Another suite. The biggest suite in the hotel that wasn’t presidential—because God forbid anyone have nicer accommodations than Jack Montana. No one wanted that tantrum.
My heart hammered as the elevator climbed. This was stupid. He was probably in the middle of something important. He’d remind me of the rules and send me on my way with my bags of food.
I walked down the hallway, checking room numbers. When I reached his door, I hesitated. Just standing there like an idiot, clutching takeout containers and second-guessing every life choice that had led me to this moment.
Screw it. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.