Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
THEY WERE OFFICIALLY ONE MONTH into shooting Forbidden Love, and the title was starting to feel like a reflection of Caitlin’s real life.
Each day left her feeling more disoriented than the last. The kiss, even though scripted, had stirred something intense and entirely unplanned.
She had felt it deep in her bones and desperately wished to talk to Gemma about it.
Caitlin needed to know how she had felt, first, before making any rash decisions.
She predicted that today would only add another complication to the matter—filming their sex scene. Mrs. Ryan had been very clear about what she wanted the moment to convey and insisted on a bold portrayal of both the physical and emotional exchanges between the two women.
Filming intimate scenes had always made Caitlin a little uncomfortable, no matter the setting.
It was a vulnerable position for an actor to be in, with multiple cameras and a crew watching as they got nearly naked and pretended to have sex.
Ugh, and the worst part was having to fake an orgasm.
On the plus side, it would be with Gemma this time.
On the downside… it would be with Gemma this time. Her Gemma.
Luckily, Caitlin had a little time before that intimate moment would come. She had to film a scene with her on-screen husband first.
Caitlin eased into her role as Kate, whose husband had forbidden her from seeing Sarah again after he learned about their growing relationship. But Kate couldn’t stay away.
One night, after her husband got drunk and passed out on the couch in his study, Kate slipped out of the house to see Sarah, which led straight into the scene that Caitlin had been anxiously dreading.
Mrs. Ryan called the cast and crew together and introduced the intimacy coordinator, whose role was to advocate for the actresses’ comfort and to facilitate the scene with the director and the limited personnel who would be present during filming.
For the duration of this scene, the coordinator would oversee the entire set to ensure consistent consent and communication.
Once the carefully orchestrated moment had been set, Caitlin and Gemma took their places.
Caitlin had no idea how this would play out after they had barely made it through the kissing scene together, but the second Gemma’s eyes met hers across the staged bedroom, Caitlin felt her tension ease.
Gemma was—and would always be—her safe space. It was just a biological fact.
The head of wardrobe collected both of the women’s robes and stepped away. Caitlin couldn’t bring herself to look directly at Gemma. It was the first time she would see her ex in the nude again, after almost a decade. And it was going to happen in front of eight complete strangers.
“And… action!” The assistant director shouted, forcing Caitlin’s gaze up at the last minute.
Gemma glided across the room with lithe, athletic grace. At the edge of the bed, she hesitated, and Caitlin wondered if she was also thinking about their bare skin reconnecting after all this time. Gemma eased herself underneath the white sheets, awkwardly lying her body on top of Caitlin’s.
“Cut!” Mrs. Ryan snapped. “Where’s the passion? Where’s the longing? What the hell was that?”
Feeling chastised, both women returned to their marks and started again.
This time, when Gemma climbed into the bed with Caitlin, it was smooth, but Caitlin could see the wild look in Gemma’s wide, dark eyes.
She was scared. This moment felt bigger than either of them, bigger than the movie, and neither one of them had a clue what they were doing.
All that helplessness made everything feel unbearably urgent.
Caitlin’s lips were about to crash into Gemma’s before they heard “Cut!” and splintered apart.
Mrs. Ryan huffed as she moved toward them. “Do I need to find two replacements that will actually do this the way that I want?”
Caitlin and Gemma shook their heads in unison, afraid the director might be serious.
Shit.
Caitlin took pride in being easy to work with—leave it to Gemma to tarnish her reputation, intentional or not.
“Let’s take lunch, and when we get back, I’d better see two women madly in love.”
The head of wardrobe scurried over and draped robes around Caitlin and Gemma before they stepped outside the studio into the blinding sun.
“Would you want to eat together?” Caitlin asked as they reached her boxy white trailer.
“Sure,” Gemma replied softly.
Surprised, Caitlin snatched up the prepared lunch waiting for her and slipped into Gemma’s trailer before Gemma could change her mind.
After a few tense minutes, Caitlin broke the silence that had settled over them. “Are we going to talk about it?”
“Do I have a choice?” Gemma spat.
No. No, Gemma did not have a choice this time.
“That kiss the other day—” Caitlin started, but Gemma cut her off, “Was acting.”
Caitlin forced her face to remain neutral, swallowing the urge to argue. That kiss had been real, and she knew it.
“We have to figure out this scene, Gemma. The movie doesn’t exist without it.”
“You don’t think I know that?” The anger on Gemma’s face was unmistakable.
“So… what do you suggest?” Caitlin cautiously continued.
“You could be honest with me for once.” Bitterness had crept into Gemma’s tone.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Gemma rolled her eyes and ignored Caitlin’s question, her face masked with fury.
Caitlin took a slow breath. Someone needed to stay level-headed, or else the conversation would spiral the way it always had so far. But the restraint didn’t last. She swallowed once and then spoke before she could stop herself.
“Fine. You want the truth?” Caitlin braced herself, knowing the words would taste bad even as they came out of her mouth. “I’m one of the biggest movie stars of our generation, and I don’t regret a single choice I made to get here.”
Caitlin watched her vicious words hit Gemma. Her anger drained away at the impact, leaving behind a hollow pain. Caitlin felt sick to her stomach as she waited for an equally scathing retort, but instead there was only silence. Somehow, the quiet was even worse.
“Ah. Well, at least you finally admitted it,” Gemma said, voice tight. “I always wondered, but now I know for sure—you never cared about me. It was always about you. Your image, your career. Being rich and famous would always come first, and I was just too young and in love to see it.”
Caitlin felt as if she’d been slapped. What had she been thinking? The words weren’t true, she hadn’t even meant them, but she couldn’t take them back now. Worse, Gemma seemed to honestly believe that she had never mattered to Caitlin.
“Yup, that’s me—the cold, selfish star who never cared.
But you know what I do care about?” The words kept tumbling out of her mouth, even as her mind screamed at her to stop.
“This movie. So get your shit together so we can film this scene. The sooner we get through this, the sooner we can go back to our own separate lives.” Caitlin was officially her own worst enemy.
Gemma lurched to her feet and rushed toward the back of the trailer, slamming the door so hard behind her that the trailer shuddered.
Caitlin felt like the worst person alive as she listened to Gemma’s sobs from the other room.
How could Gemma think so little of her? There hadn’t been a single day that Caitlin hadn’t carried Gemma with her—not during the empty summer at sixteen, not during the ten years that had stretched between them—and the idea that Gemma was able to believe otherwise shredded something inside of her.
Caitlin needed to fix this, and fast. She did not want to keep hurting Gemma.
She knocked on the door that Gemma was hiding behind. “Gemma, can I please come in?”
“Fuck you, Caitlin.”
Okay, she totally deserved that. Caitlin wouldn’t give up that easily, though. She tried the handle, which had been left unlocked, and gently pushed the door open.
Gemma sat on the bed, knees pulled to her chest and head buried in her arms. She looked so small, so defenseless. For a moment, Caitlin stood frozen in the doorway, watching the woman she loved shrink under the weight of her own words.
Moving slowly, as if approaching a caged animal, Caitlin sat down next to Gemma, keeping a safe distance between them. “I really didn’t mean any of that. I was just mad.”
“So you did it on purpose, then? Just to hurt me? Haven’t you hurt me enough for one lifetime?” Gemma’s voiced quivered.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Gemma.” Caitlin swung one leg up onto the comforter, turning to face Gemma earnestly.
Gemma sat expressionless, eyes fixed on the floor, and Caitlin ached to know what she was thinking.
Finally, Gemma met Caitlin’s eyes. “These last few weeks have been the hardest of my life. The breakup was painful, but seeing you again after all these years—still without an explanation for what happened between us—has been killing me.”
Caitlin watched a tear slip down Gemma’s cheek.
Without thinking, she lifted her hand and brushed the tear away with her thumb, the motion familiar and automatic.
Seeing the misery in Gemma’s eyes, usually warm with honey, made something in her clench.
Before Caitlin could pull her hand away, Gemma leaned into her palm, small and trembling, and time shrank to the size of the single, honest moment.
Caitlin cupped her cheek softly and said, “I’m sorry for how hard this has been for you. I know it’s my fault.”
Gemma stayed quiet, waiting to hear what else Caitlin had to say.
Caitlin slowly removed her hand, placing it back into her own lap. “I wasted that whole summer when we were sixteen,” she said, her voice raw. “I’m ashamed of it to this day. My feelings for you were stronger than I was, and I pushed you away because I was terrified of what they would mean.”
Gemma shifted her body, finally looking directly into Caitlin’s eyes. She waited for Caitlin to go on.