Chapter 22 #2
“I’m really glad you’re here, Magnolia.” He squeezes my shoulder, then turns for the door. “See you in a bit.”
Security barely glances at Holden’s pass before waving me through, and I can’t help wondering if they were expecting me.
The PA didn’t give me one, even though I confirmed I’d be on set.
Maybe only cast and crew get them? Still, I kind of like wearing Holden’s.
In this small, ridiculous way, it feels like I belong to him. But I don’t let myself dwell on it.
A blast of cold air hits me as I step inside, the relief short-lived under the heat of the overhead lights. With my eyes on the floor so I don’t trip, I peel off my sweater, tie it around my waist, and move deeper into the hall. When I finally look up, my jaw drops for the second time today.
The transformation is surreal. The bar scene Neve was working on Friday is alive now, packed with extras dressed as bartenders and patrons, some chatting quietly, others just standing around.
Backlit liquor bottles gleam along the mirrored wall behind the counter, while small tables and chairs clutter the space in front.
To my right, the stage has been reborn. Cody’s Icehouse glows in neon across the back, colored lights washing the newly polished floor in a cool blue. Even the air is different, softened somehow, making everything dreamlike.
I can’t wait to see who Artie cast to perform—then remember it’s probably Graham Barrett’s nephew.
If anything ruins this adaptation, it’ll be that.
“Maggie!”
I turn at the sound of my whisper-shouted name to find Constance weaving toward me.
She lifts her lanyard, showing off her pass, her brown eyes gleaming.
“Look what Loretta got me. It even has my picture!” Then she notices the one I’m wearing and tilts her head. “Funny, that looks nothing like you.”
My shoulders loosen at the sight of her, and before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around her neck and squeeze. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
A soft laugh catches in her throat. “I, um…me too.”
“Oh my God, guess what!” Loretta’s voice sails through the dance hall as she barrels for us, dodging crew, cameras, and a minefield of cables. “Y’all are not going to believe this. Artie wants us to be extras in the kissing scene. The kissing scene! This is actually happening!”
A lump forms in my throat. “All of us?”
Her grin is so wide, it makes my face hurt. “All of us!”
“Oh.”
A week ago, I might’ve jumped at the chance. It’s my favorite part of the book. But now it’s not just Tripp and Katie—it’s Holden and Gabi. I don’t even want to watch them film it. Heck, I don’t even know if I’ll want to watch it when the movie comes out.
From the other side of the room, Artie waves us over. Constance hesitates, excitement warring with concern for me, but I give her a small nod and start toward him. She falls in beside me, her sister close behind.
“Loretta tell you the good news?” he asks, parked in his director’s chair, clipboard in one hand, cup of coffee in the other. Cold, probably.
I force a smile. “She sure did.”
Chaos churns around us: crew members hustling by, extras milling about, the buzz of equipment rising under the low thrum of voices. A PA mumbles into his headset as camera guys crowd around a monitor.
And then there’s Artie, dead center, calm and unbothered.
He once told me he’s a laid-back guy running a laid-back set, but watching him now, I’m pretty sure that’s only half true.
“You girls head backstage to hair and makeup, and Maggie”—he eyes the sweater tied around my waist—“see if they can find you a denim jacket or something. I want you up front.”
“Up front?”
He catches the panic in my voice and gives a small nod. “Don’t worry, you’ll barely be in frame.”
Twenty minutes later, we’re powdered, puffed, and positioned outside the ladies’ room in a loose line with the rest of the extras. A fuzzy mic dips overhead, tilting like it’s eavesdropping. We’ve been told to scroll our phones, chat quietly—“Just act normal,” Artie said.
On a good day, I’m about as normal as a fish in a tree, so that’s a mighty tall ask.
As expected, Artie sticks me front and center, wedged between an extra and, of course, Gabi.
“Hi again,” she says, flashing that same smile from earlier. “So, does Holden know you’re doing this?”
I press my lips together and shake my head. “I don’t think so. I didn’t even know I was doing this.”
“Just try to relax. You’ll do great.”
Around me, the others murmur in hushed, excited voices while I stand stock-still, phone clutched in my hand. It buzzes, and I nearly jump out of my skin.
You good? Constance texts from the end of the line.
Yep, I reply, though I’m not sure I am.
“Quiet on the set,” someone calls, followed by a string of commands I’m too nervous to process.
Then—snap—a sharp clap of the board, just like in the movies.
Artie yells, “Action!”
And twenty feet away, Tripp calls for his girl.
“Katie!” he shouts, voice slicing through the hall. Then louder, closer, “KATIE!”
Katie turns toward me just as Tripp breaks past the line of extras, rushing toward her. But the second he sees me, something stutters in his expression—quick, fleeting—just long enough for me to catch it before he recovers.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he says.
Katie scoffs, folding her arms. “Well, congratulations. You found me.”
“I’m sorry. I know I messed up, but you—”
“Seriously, Tripp?” Her eyes flick to the ladies’ room door, then back to him. “Can this wait?”
“No, it cannot,” he says. “And if you think for a second, I won’t follow you in there, Katie Evans, you’ve got another think coming.”
My breath snags. Wait. Did he just say think? A slow, sinking weight settles in my stomach. He changed the line for me.
And now he’s about to kiss someone else.
Katie lets out a short, irritated laugh as Tripp pushes between us, his boot crushing my foot and knocking me off balance before landing in front of her.
And I hate that it feels so personal.
I step toward the door, just enough to give them space—and me a painfully perfect view.
Look at your phone. Look at your phone, I chant in my head, but my eyes won’t move.
They’re glued to the couple beside me. Not Tripp and Katie, but Holden and Gabi. To his fingers skimming the nape of her neck, his thumb tracing her jaw.
A single tear slides down her cheek, and she smiles, just a little. “We have an audience.”
Holden laughs, low and effortless, as he straightens and glances around. His gaze flicks to me for the span of a heartbeat before shifting back to Gabi.
“That’s good, Katie Cat,” he says. “Let ’em watch.”
Gabi exhales a breathy gasp as Holden leans in, pressing his forehead to hers.
“Katie. Katie. Katie…”
He pins her to the wall, their bodies flush. Her dress strap slips, and his hand trails up her arm, sliding it back into place—the motion so familiar it knocks the breath out of me.
It’s like watching a memory play out with someone else.
“I’m fucking in love with you,” he says, cradling her face, fingers disappearing into soft, caramel-streaked waves. “And I don’t care who knows it.”
I use his slight dramatic pause to breathe, then brace myself as his lips crash into hers.
My phone screen blurs, and I blink hard, trying to focus. It’s just a scene. It’s just a movie. So why does my stomach feel like it’s free-falling without me?
As if on cue, Constance texts. You still good?
Nope, I shoot back.
Hold tight. Rescue mission in progress
The kiss is still happening, and oh, for crying out loud, how long can a fake kiss last?
It’s so incredibly hot at this end of the hall, under these scorching lights, in this denim jacket that Artie insisted I wear.
Finally—finally—he yells, “Cut,” and bless his pea-pickin’ heart, he’s happy with the take.
And why wouldn’t he be? The kiss was perfect.
Ask me how I know.
Thirty minutes later, Constance completes her mission and deposits me safely at the B&B.
“I’m here if you need me,” she says, and I squeeze her hand on the gear shift.
“I know. I appreciate it.” I climb out of the car and poke my head through the open door, Colonel strutting behind me. “It was a stage kiss. So why did I get so—”
“Jealous? Flustered? Normal?”
I groan. “What, are you, my therapist now?” I scuff the toe of my boot against the gravel. “It’s just…”
“Just what?”
It was the exact same kiss he gave me.
“Never mind. It’s been a long couple of days,” I say—as another unpleasant thought elbows its way in.
Constance narrows her eyes. “What’s that look for?”
“Do you think they filmed a sex scene? I mean, if they were going to, it would’ve been in Houston, right?”
“No way,” she says, making a face like she’s trying to sell it. “The book was fade-to-black. If anything, they got a shot of them postcoital.”
My best friend’s a terrible liar.
Her fingers drift to the hollow of her throat. “You were too busy spiraling to notice, but that boy looked fine as frog hair.” She lets out a low whistle. “Holden Shaw is Tripp McCoy.”
Something warm settles in my chest. I hate that I doubted him, but he proved me wrong in the best way.
“And if he comes home in costume…” She jabs a finger at me. “Tap that.”
“Bye, Constance,” I say, shaking my head as I close the door.
Inside, I find Ben in the kitchen shoving books into his backpack. “You’re home early.”
“Uh, yeah.” I grab a Dr Pepper from the fridge and kick it shut with my boot. “How was your final?”
He leans against the island, crossing his arms. “Who cares about my final. How was filming?”
“Let’s see…humiliating? Yep, that about sums it up.”
“Humiliating? Why?”
I shrug out of the denim jacket I accidentally stole from wardrobe. “Artie put me in as an extra, like right beside Holden and Gabi. And during this one part, Holden literally stepped on me to get to her. Stepped on me.”
“Wait. She’s Gabi now?”
I pop open the can and take a sip. “She’s really nice, by the way.”
“Bet it was awkward for Holden, having you so close.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Whose idea was that?”
“Artie’s. And why would it be awkward for Holden? Oh, hey, speaking of awkward. You had me convinced he was playing ‘Maggie May’ for me, so like a complete idiot, I asked him about it.” I shoot my brother a glare. “Thanks for that.”
“And?”
“And he wasn’t. He was practicing ‘Henry.’”
Ben lets out a laugh so loud I nearly drop my soda. “That’s what he told you?”
I nod and set the can on the island. “Why?”
“Holden Shaw lied to you, little sis. He told me he’s never even attempted the intro. We’re getting together this week so I can show him.” He slings his backpack over his shoulder and grins. “Glad I won’t be here when you question him on that.”
I blink, my brain scrambling to process. “Ben, wait.”
“No can do, Mags, I’m late,” he says, grabbing his keys. “You’ll have to work this one out with Constance.”
I drop onto a barstool. “When will you be back?”
“Won’t. Staying at Zack’s.” The front door opens, spilling light into the darkened foyer. “Be safe,” he says. “Make good choices and all that.”
I lower my cheek to the soapstone and close my eyes.
Why did Holden lie to me?
And why does it feel like I’m not ready for the answer?