Page 39 of Doing It for Love

“Telling stories, directing,beingsomeone who could make a difference is what I wanted. I still do, but it just…falls flat now.”

“What do you mean?”

“The way I felt when I got my first film award was phenomenal. I was above the moon. Then things kept coming, kept happening. I feel like I’m slowly moving up this steep mountain and I’m nearly at the top. It feels great. Exhilarating. Freeing. I feel proud of myself, and in love with what I’m doing. I feel happy.”

His eyes drop to my hand, to my ring. A thumb strokes over my knuckle. “None of that compares to when I put this on your finger.” He looks up at me, and my heart has completely ballooned from my chest. “It’s like comparing no-name to Heinz. A puddle to the ocean. Slight breeze to a raging tornado. Regular TV to HD. Dinner to dessert. And I thought, this…thisis how it feels to finally get what your heart wants.”

A steady beat fills my ears, low and happy and thrilling. “Aww!” My smile makes my cheeks sore. My stomach feels all tingly. And I squeeze his hand twice before he squeezes back once. “That wasreallyromantic.” Where has this man been?

“I know,” he says like he can’t believe it either. “You should kiss me for it.”

“I would…” I pucker my lips. “But I can’t reach.”

He puckers, too. Then we air kiss while Buster continues to bat at our hands with his paws so we keep rubbing his tummy.

“We should hit the road,” he says after a minute, pushing the box back. I give Buster another good rub and nod.

“I think my iPod is charged now, so perfect timing.”

He groans and I evil laugh. But I think I’ll let him listen to his music. After what he just said, if I can’t give him sex, I’ll at least give him power over the radio.

Chapter 12

I’m pretty sure my future mother-in-law hates me, my future sister-in-law thinks I’m an idiot, and my future father-in-law thinks I’m pregnant, but I survived! And even with the awkward parting, the wedding is still on and according to Elle’s text to Landon, they’re planning on attending.

One parental meet and greet down, one to go. I’ve added to my Hurdle List: Find a dress, so when Mom flies in on November fifth, I can show it to her. It works great because Landon’s last day of shooting is Halloween.

He’s shooting at the school’s studio today, and even though the car is running off fumes instead of actual gas, I drive the forty-minute trip and ask the gate guy to direct me to Landon’s shoot.

I get out of the car and a cute girl with an iPod bud in one ear while the other dangles down her front escorts me through a giant set of metal doors. Fog spills out over my heels, and she puts a finger to her lips. I nod and slip inside.

Not even three steps in, I adjust my baby blue sweater on my shoulders, wondering if I should have grabbed my coat. I thought the set would be hot and muggy considering there’s a ton of smoke from the fog machine and Landon always comes home smelling of sweat. But it’s like the a/c is cranked to frost and it’s already below sixty outside.

My shoes aren’t exactly quiet, and I don’t want aclick clackto pick up on anything, so I slide them off and tiptoe across a cold tile floor. I can hear Jace yelling, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. When I get past the main hallway to the open set, my mouth pops open a little.

I don’t know why, but I expected something a little…low-funded? But as I look at the cameras, the fog, the props, the actors, the lighting, the microphones, all of it…it’s like I walked in on a legitimate Hollywood movie set. Goose bumps prickle up and down my arms that have nothing to do with the cold.

“Can we cut for a second?” Landon says from behind the camera. A giant smile sets on my face as I watch his furrowed brow as he looks at the playback, his light scruff when he scratches his chin, his tongue poke out slightly like it always does when he’s concentrating real hard.

That man is mine.

“Jace, can you do that line again, but instead of looking at Chantal, look slightly to her right.”

Jace twirls his prop rifle, letting it come to rest on his shoulder. “You got it.”

“And Chantal, try to figure out what he’s looking at. Exaggerate it.”

“Do you want me to improv any dialogue?” Chantal asks while Landon waves the makeup person to fix the blood on Chantal’s neck.

“No. I want to make it comedic without any mention of it.”

She nods and then stretches her neck up to get her zombie bite refreshed. Landon adjusts his cap and leans in to Jace, and they laugh at whatever he says. I tiptoe behind the camera, far enough so I’m not in the way and close enough to see what it looks like on screen.

“All right, marker.” Landon moves back behind the camera. A guy with a headset announces it’s take twenty-two and then the set quiets.

“We can’t,” Jace says, looking over Chantal’s shoulder. She looks behind her and looks back.

“But I’m not a zombie.”

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