Page 19 of Now or Never

Chelsea sped down her driveway, gravel spitting, and skidded to a stop next to a big black Land Rover. Shehatedbeing late. But it was unavoidable. Her morning had been a disaster.

It was Ben’s first day of school, and although he’d seemed excited to go, when the bus had pulled up, his whole demeanour shifted. Sensing a meltdown, Chelsea told the bus driver to drive on without Ben and brought him to school herself. She bribed him with a lollipop to get him in the car, and when he somehow lost the damn thing, he started crying.

She got him into the school and settled with enough time to stop at Brin’s Café for a coffee, but by the time she made it through the lineup and back to her house, she was five minutes late for her meeting.

She hopped out of the car, slammed the door behind her, and took off down the path to the backyard, where she assumed she’d find the location scout. But when she rounded the corner, past where she’d hosed off Adam’s blood the night before, she foundtwo people, a woman and a man, roaming around the gardens together, talking and pointing in all directions.

She came up behind them, then cleared her throat. “Hi,” she said as the woman turned toward her. “Sorry I’m late, I’m Chel—”

Her voice stopped when she took in the tall, elegant woman’s face.

“Chelsea,” the woman said with a simple nod. “I’m Lilian Walsh.”

Chelsea’s brows rose as her smile broadened. Lilian Walsh—theLilian Walsh—was roaming around her backyard.

Chelsea ordered her face to behave.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m a big fan.”

Lilian smiled politely, no doubt used to fawning fans, before she did a half turn and used her hand to gesture toward the gentleman with her. He turned, and she took in his short, stocky build, his deep-brown skin, his black coiled hair, stylishly greying at the temples. He unleashed a smile she’d seen in hundreds—if not thousands—of interviews and magazine articles, and her heart stopped.

Play it cool. Play it cool.

Play.

It.

Cool.

“Allow me to introduce—”

“Vincent Shadd,” Chelsea said, her voice cracking. She stepped forward and took his hand, hoping some of his genius might transfer to her through hand-to-hand contact. She hoped she didn’t come across like a creep, but she honestly couldn’t stop herself.

“I’m Chelsea,” she said, shaking his hand up and down. It occurred to her she was being a bit too aggressive, so she let up. But didn’t let go. “I’m a huge fan of your work.”

Vincent’s eyebrows rose, streaking deep creases across his forehead. A bright white smile followed.

“You must be in the industry,” Lilian said in a dry voice, earning a playful scowl from Vincent.

Chelsea nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on her idol. “I just graduated from Toronto Film School. I’ve studied all forty-four of your films, Mr. Shadd.”

“Please call me Vincent,” he said with a wide smile.

Chelsea nodded. “Vincent.” Holy crap, she was on a first-name basis with an Oscar-winning cinematographer whose every word was like gospel to her. She had studied his films, listened to his advice to young filmmakers, and applied everything he said to all of her work.

Jae was going to literally shit herself when she told her.

She stared into Vincent’s dark, rich eyes for an eternity, wishing she could jump through them into his brain and somehow know all the things he knew. Imagine all the things he’d seen, the huge amount of experience he had.

“Chelsea,” he said.

She blinked and realized that he was no longer smiling. In fact, his face was more of a grimace.

Uh oh.

She’d taken her worshipping too far. She looked down at their still-linked hands and let go, taking a small step back. Famous people loved to be worshipped. But only from afar. He probablyhatedthat she was fawning all over him.

“You seem really sweet,” he said. “So I don’t know how to tell you this . . .”

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