Chapter 3 #2
A tall woman with auburn hair stood a few paces away, her posture relaxed as she faced the panel of producers on the other side of the room.
Gemma’s gaze had found her instantly, her heart skipping a beat.
She heard the faint noise of crinkling as her hands began to shake, forgetting the paper between her fingers.
The woman had not turned around when Gemma entered the room, but she knew—that careful confidence, that poise—she would never mistake the woman suddenly standing before her.
“Gemma Quinn, this is Caitlin Stone. Caitlin, this is Gemma.” The woman gestured between the two of them, waving Gemma further into the room. She was rooted in the doorway, unable to will her feet forward. “You’ll both be reading today for Kate and Sarah in Forbidden Love.”
Gemma hadn’t seen or heard from Caitlin since they had broken up in college.
From then on, she had done her best to avoid anything Caitlin-related.
But with her ex-girlfriend now a movie star, that was nearly impossible.
Never by choice, the paparazzi shots of Caitlin had always found her—on social media, in glossy magazines, splashed across digital billboards in the city.
Every glimpse had made her stomach turn.
Nine years later, Gemma felt an old anger rise.
It had surged through her chest the moment that Caitlin turned around, like her body remembered the heartbreak before her mind could catch up.
Bright blue eyes met hers, wide with surprise, and Gemma hated how familiar they felt.
Hated how easily they pulled her in, like nothing had changed. Like Caitlin hadn’t shattered her.
Gemma’s jaw clenched. Caitlin’s full lips parted, stunned, as if she had the right to be shocked.
As if she hadn’t been the one who had ended things, leaving Gemma to stitch herself back together in silence.
At least the mirrored look on Caitlin’s face proved that Gemma was not the only one struggling to gain composure.
Her gaze dropped, unbidden, tracing the lines of Caitlin’s tall, lean body.
Her breath hitched, memories clawing their way to the surface of nights spent tangled in sheets, of whispered promises that had clearly meant nothing.
She shook her head, hard, forcing herself back into the present.
They’d been standing there too long, suspended in the stillness that had become noticeable.
Gemma straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and stepped forward.
Every movement was forced, her face a blank mask.
She wanted this role, and she wouldn’t let Caitlin ruin it, no matter how pissed off she was.
She would not give the directors any reason to second-guess their decision to call her.
It would be simple. She was an actress, so that’s what she would do, damn it.
She would act as if Caitlin were just another scene partner, a stranger. The reality wasn’t that far off.
“Hi,” Caitlin said softly as she stared at Gemma.
“Caitlin.” Gemma’s greeting was flat as she made her way closer to her ex. “It’s nice to meet you.” She had said those words once before but now repeating them almost made bile rise to her throat.
Gemma never could have prepared herself for this. Caitlin’s appearance had hit her like a rogue wave, dragging her under before she could catch a breath. How the hell could she feign love on camera when she couldn’t even stand to look at the woman in front of her?
“Okay, let’s get started. I’m going to have you both act out this scene so that I can get a feel for your dynamic,” the director announced.
Gemma drew an unsteady breath, willing herself to stay collected. She could do this. She could pull this off. It would just demand every shred of strength that she had and every acting trick she’d ever learned.
They stumbled through the first few lines, the weight of their history thick in the air.
But as the scene unfolded, something shifted.
Gemma effortlessly transformed into Sarah, a woman being left behind.
The heartbreak, the longing, the anguish.
This wasn’t acting for Gemma. This was muscle memory.
“What do you mean you can’t see me anymore? I thought we had something special.” Gemma was giving the best performance of her life, each word threaded with genuine heartache.
“We can’t drag out the inevitable any longer,” Caitlin said in character, shifting her weight. She wouldn’t make eye contact with Gemma.
“No, this can’t be the end. Why are you doing this, Kate?” Gemma’s voice had turned desperate, pleading.
“My husband found out about us. I could lose everything, Sarah, please understand. I had to make a choice.” Caitlin stumbled over the last few words.
Well, isn’t that ironic? Gemma’s inner voice was too loud to ignore.
“I can’t lose you.” Gemma felt the tears well behind her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” Caitlin spoke softly, desperately searching Gemma’s face for understanding. For forgiveness. Her blue eyes rippled with anguish.
When Gemma didn’t respond, Caitlin reluctantly turned and strode away, effectively ending the scene.
Gemma couldn’t move, a chasm opening within her chest as she watched Caitlin’s auburn hair swing over her shoulder.
It was shorter now—so familiar, yet jarringly different.
Caitlin’s exit, scripted or not, hit Gemma like a blow to the stomach.