Page 46 of My Unscripted Life

I make my way down the hall to the bathroom. I push open the door and start to scurry into the stall when a flash of red catches my eye. It’s Lydia. She’s sitting on the counter right next to the sink, her knees pulled up to her chin. She’s either doing some deep cleansing breaths or hyperventilating. I grimace and glance at the door, wondering if I can creep out. Maybe she hasn’t noticed me.

“I just keep screwing everything up,” Lydia groans into her hands.

Nope, no time to leave. She’s noticed me, all right. And apparently she wants to talk.Awesome.

But I don’t want to talk to her. I’m in a good place right now. Ruth thinks I’m good at my job and Rob just offered me a reference. And though I still don’t know what happens after we wrap, for now, things are good with Milo. I don’t need any more of her wry threats or sarcastic one-liners. And while I’m not one to kick a girl while she’s down, I really don’t feel like playing her game right now.

“Are you seriously expecting me to have sympathy for you right now?” I ask.

Lydia’s head shoots up, her eyebrows rising nearly into her hairline. She did not see that coming, that’s for sure. “I’m not expecting anything, but now I’m wondering what the hellyourproblem is.”

I cross my arms, totally forgetting that five minutes ago I had to pee. “Uh, maybe that you’ve been trying to sabotage my relationship with Milo since you showed up here.”

Lydia looks at me like my hair is on fire. “I absolutely have not.”

“You threatened me!”

“What are you talking about?” Now she’s looking at me like I should be checked into the nearest mental hospital at the earliest convenience.

I stand up, throw a hand on one hip, and kick out the other, tossing my hair back as if it were cascading waves of crimson mermaid locks.“ ‘The cameras are brutal. You’ll never last.’ ”Add a foot and a half to my height, and it’s a damn good Lydia Kane impression.

She rolls her eyes. “I wasn’t threatening you. I was warning you, so you wouldn’t go through what I went through. The paparazzi absolutely destroyed my relationship with Milo,” she says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, when it absolutely isnot.

“No, I think making out with that director is what destroyed your relationship with Milo,” I shoot back.

She pauses, then nods. “Okay, fair enough. But look, I still care about Milo—”

I open my mouth to tell her that’sexactlywhat I’m talking about, but she holds up a finger to stop me.

“—and I want him to be happy,” she finishes. “And he seems really happy with you. But if you aren’t going to be able to deal with the whole press aspect, you need to get out now before you break his heart.” She sighs. “Like I did.”

I couldn’t be more shocked than if Lydia had stacked all the fruit from craft services on top of her head and danced a cancan through the studio.

“And I know I sound all Ghost of Christmas Past or whatever, but I don’t have any regrets. I mean, other than being a total bitch to Milo with that whole cheating thing. But the truth is we needed to end it. I just took the coward’s way out and blew us up.” When she notices I still look skeptical, she adds, “Besides, I’m seeing someone new anyway.”

The old gossipmonger in me is dying to ask her who, but even though we’ve made out with the same guy and we’re having a serious heart-to-heart right now, I still don’t think I know her like that. Besides, I now know what it’s like to have strangers pry into your relationship. It’s not cool. When she doesn’t offer up a name, I figure it’s not my place to ask.

“You’re nothing like I thought you’d be,” I say instead. “Or what I thought you were after I actually met you, for that matter.”

She laughs, then leans into the mirror, dabbing at her eyes with a paper towel. “What can I say? I contain multitudes,” she replies, her tone wry. “So I take it you’re going to give it a go with Milo?”

“I think so,” I say, hoping I sound sure and wishing I felt it.

“Good,” she says. “I think you’ll be good for him. He never really did fit in with all the Hollywood bullshit anyway.”

I’ve never been so happy to be a Hollywood outsider in my life.

The rest of the day is pretty tame. Lydia gets her line on the first take back from the break, and every time after that for all the close-ups and various shots. Then Rob calls, “Check the gate,” and we move on.

The last scene we’re filming is actually from the middle of the film, where Kass is watching Jonas paint in his bedroom when she gets the call that her father has died. Lydia is fantastic, a fact I can admit now that I know she’s not trying to steal my boyfriend or ruin my life. When her character gets the news her face goes completely blank, then slowly starts to chip and crumble until she’s a wailing pile of tears. It’s incredible to watch her do take after take, each time managing to go from composed to a wreck with big, fat tears rolling down her porcelain cheeks. She’s good. Really good.

And when Milo steps forward and gathers her in his arms each take, his face buried in her hair as Jonas tries to comfort Kass, I don’t feel a dump truck of jealousy running me over. Not even a bit. Because I don’t see Lydia and Milo, I see Kass and Jonas. It’s breathtaking.

After the final take, Rob steps out from behind the monitors and shoves the roll of papers that I’ve come to know as his trademark into his back pocket. He removes his Yankees cap, runs his hands through his salt-and-pepper hair, and then replaces it with both hands, a big grin on his face.

“Well, people, that’s a wrap!” he calls, and the crew let out a thundering of applause along with a few whoops andwoo-hoos. I’m midclap myself when someone comes up behind me and covers my eyes.

“Guess who?” Milo asks.

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