Chapter 11
LILA
Istood in front of my bathroom mirror, carefully blending concealer beneath my eyes before adding the last touches of makeup.
Fridays were always the worst days on set when we weren’t filming over the weekend.
Everyone wanted to finish strong before the time off, directors suddenly remembered shots they wanted to add, and people who had been perfectly pleasant all week transformed into stressed-out versions of themselves.
It didn’t help that I was grouchy and exhausted.
I’d fallen into a pattern that kept me from completely falling apart. Work kept me moving and functional during the day, and the loneliness only really hit at night when there were no distractions. I still missed Reid so damn much.
His voice messages had quietly become part of my routine too even though I still hadn’t answered a single one.
At first, he’d called and texted constantly, desperation bleeding through every word. But over the past several days, he’d backed off. Now he only left one voicemail a day. He didn’t overtly apply pressure, and there were no demands for a response.
But there was a whole lot of honesty.
He apologized for dismissing my concerns and gave specific examples that showed he finally understood why I was upset. Told me he moved Kaylee to another attorney. And that he was going to therapy.
That had shocked me even more than him removing the flirty paralegal from his daily work life.
It had also frustrated me because, although I felt vindicated that he was acknowledging the issues I’d been trying to make him see, it made me feel as though the emotional labor I’d put into our relationship had been wasted.
More confusingly, knowing that he was putting work into becoming a better man gave me a sliver of hope for reconciliation. Which made it that much harder when he told me he missed me. At the end of every single message.
I kept pretending I wasn’t really listening. That I only played them because I didn’t want them clogging up my voicemail, as if my phone couldn’t store dozens of messages. But that wasn’t true.
I could recite everything he’d said, almost word for word. Including the places where his voice had cracked, the pauses before certain sentences, and the exhaustion I’d heard underneath his words.
It scared me because listening meant I was still hoping. And that felt dangerous, even though my best friend had encouraged me to experience whatever I was feeling.
Shaking off my thoughts, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. My makeup had done its magic, and I looked relatively normal.
“You’ve got this,” I told myself.
Then I grabbed my bag and headed for the studio.
Unfortunately, the day dragged. And not because I was looking forward to having the weekend off, which would’ve been the usual reason.
I was given the last look tasks for the shoots, which was a fast-paced role that required meticulous attention to detail under tight time constraints. But it was also high pressure because the entire cast and crew were waiting for me each time I needed to fix the talent’s makeup.
By noon, I was already exhausted.
By two, I wanted to crawl under a blanket and sleep for a week.
By four, I was pretty sure my feet were staging a mutiny.
I had never been more relieved than when the director called, “That’s a wrap for the day.”
Somehow, I had made it through what felt like the longest day of my career without completely embarrassing myself.
When I finally headed toward the employee lot, I felt wrung out.
I just wanted to go home, shower, and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours.
Then hopefully talk myself out of booking a last-minute flight to Toronto to get a hug from Kinsley.
It would be fantastic to see my best friend, but I’d only be more exhausted when I went to work on Monday.
And probably hungover because we’d gorge ourselves on wine and ice cream, our traditional heartbreak treats.
Then I saw Reid, and my feet slowed automatically. He stood near the edge of the employee lot holding a small cooler. For a moment, I thought I’d finally lost it and was imagining him.
It was barely five o’clock. He should’ve been in his office, buried in work right now. Or sitting in some conference room brokering a deal.
But he was really standing there in a loosened tie with shadows beneath his eyes, looking as exhausted as I felt. Except he didn’t walk toward me. He was waiting…giving me the choice to approach him, even after showing up uninvited.
My pulse started pounding as I moved closer. “What are you doing here?”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Not kidnapping you like my Neanderthal side is urging me to do.”
A startled laugh escaped before I could stop it, and his lips curved more.
“Fridays are always awful for you.” He lifted the cooler a little. “My mom made chicken salad.”
“The one with the grapes and pecans?” It had this ridiculous dressing recipe she’d refused to share because apparently she’d “take it to the grave.”
I loved it so much that she’d started setting a container aside for me to take home.
“I remembered it was your favorite,” he continued. “And you have the bad habit of getting too busy and forgetting to eat when you’re on last looks.”
“How did you know?”
My question could’ve been taken a couple of different ways, but he understood what I was asking right away.
“You shared a post one of the actresses made to your stories.”
“Oh. Right.” The day had felt so long, I’d completely forgotten.
Remorse shone from his dark eyes. “And I figured today was probably harder than most since it’s an anniversary I wished didn’t exist.”
One week since we broke up.
My throat tightened as he held out the cooler toward me. I waited for him to press his advantage in some way now that he had my attention. To ask if I’d listened to his messages. If I’d give him a second chance.
But all he said was, “I just wanted to make sure you ate dinner.”
He didn’t crowd my space or reach for me. Just showed up to do something nice for me.
I appreciated that he wasn’t trying to force something I wasn’t ready to give him, so I took the cooler from him, being careful not to brush my fingers against his. “Thank you.”
He dipped his chin. “Have a good night, Lila.”
Then he turned and walked away. And I stood there watching him disappear around the corner, heading toward the visitor’s lot.
I wasn’t ready to examine how seeing him again made me feel, so I turned toward where my car was parked.
“Everything okay?”
I looked up.
The security guard near the gate watched me with concern.
“Yeah,” I answered automatically.
He hesitated. “Your guy looked pretty worried.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He got here almost two hours ago.”
I froze, my eyes widening. “What?”
“Sat over there most of the time.” He pointed toward a shaded bench nearby. “I almost told him to go wait in his car.”
That was a long time for someone who usually treated every minute like it mattered.
“He kept checking that cooler,” he added with a grin.
“Asked me three times if he could take a quick peek in the lot to make sure you hadn’t left already.
When he first arrived and then again each hour, like clockwork.
Gotta admit I’m glad you got here when you did, or else I would’ve been tempted to let him in. ”
“I’m not sure anyone could blame you,” I reassured him. “He can be persuasive.”
When I got inside my car, I finally gave in to temptation of my own and opened the cooler.
Reid had downplayed what he’d brought. Two containers of his mom’s chicken salad were inside, with crackers and sourdough bread to go along with it.
There were several smaller packages with avocado, baby arugula, and beefsteak tomato.
All of my favorite sandwich toppings. Plus, a giant pickle, fruit salad, and potato chips.
And a stack of the pretty napkins his mom used, with tiny yellow flowers printed on them.
He’d gone all out but hadn’t asked for anything in return. I wasn’t sure what to do with that. It seemed so out of character for the man I’d fallen in love with, but in a good way because he’d put what I needed ahead of what he wanted.
Unfortunately, the small lift in my spirits only lasted until I got back home because my family decided it was the perfect time to start pestering me.
My phone buzzed with text notifications.
Mom
Have you talked to Reid yet?
Sienna
Don’t drag this out forever. You’re only hurting yourself.
I stared at the screen before locking it again.
My family wanted me to take Reid back because of what he represented.
His career was easier for them to understand than me being a makeup artist, no matter how successful I was.
They’d never expressed any interest in what I did, but Reid had waited in a parking lot for two hours because he’d remembered I forgot to eat when I was in charge of last looks.
Knowing that, a tiny crack formed in the anger I’d been holding on to so tightly. And I wasn’t happy that he still had that kind of power over me.