Page 102 of Between Never and Forever
“I hate it, too,” he says before stepping in front of her. “But you’ll have me all day tomorrow, and then next weekend, it’s you and me and the Italian Riviera.”
“Mmmm,” she hums. “I can’t wait.”
From where I’m standing, I have the perfect vantage point of Savannah’s face, but only the back of Paul’s head. I don’t care, though. I can’t take my eyes off her, anyway.
The scene is a tender moment, and I know from my script read-through that it’s from the beginning of the movie before Savannah learns that Paul’s character is involved in shady business dealings that ultimately lead to the kidnapping of her younger sister.
In this scene, Savannah’s very much in love with Paul. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to stay in bed all day so they can continue trying for a baby. She’s looking at him with those big, lovey doe eyes, smiling flirtatiously with plump, mischievous lips, and I feel murderous.
It’s acting,I tell myself.It’s for the fucking movie.
But goddamn, it looks real. Just like her brunette wig looks real.
Savannah trails her hand down Paul’s chest. He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. I can tell from the way she’s looking up at him that they’re about to kiss.
I clench my hands into fists. Grit my teeth so hard the muscle in my jaw aches. I watch as he brings his hand to her face, cups her neck and brushes his thumb over her jaw. I hold my breath as he leans down, and I memorize the soft way Savannah watches him as she brings her hands to his waist.
The moment their lips touch, I see red. If I could send daggers with my eyes, they’d be lining Paul fucking Northwood’s spine. The kiss turns heated, and Savannah’s hands tighten in Paul’s shirt, and I’m practically shaking with jealousy and rage. When Savannah opens her mouth to welcome Paul’s tongue, I lose my grip and growl.
A low, feral, rabid wild animal fucking growl.
I feel the lighting guy next to me jump, but no one else seems to notice.
Except Savannah. Her eyes pop open and land on me immediately. She doesn’t even have to search. Like a magnet, our gazes snap together, and she freezes. It’s apparent to everyone, though it feels like it takes a million years for anyone to notice.
“CUT!” the director yells, shaking me out of my trance, and then I turn around and storm off the set.
I can’t do this. I can’t. I power walk through the sound stage, out into the parking lot, and all the way to my truck.
I can’t fucking do this to myself.
I brace my hands on the hood of my truck and drop my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe. She’s looked at me like that before. She’s talked to me that way. She’s kissed me with just as much passion. More.
It’s acting. It’s just for a movie. And me and Sav are in the past. It’s over. It’s done. It doesn’t matter.
I kick my tire with every word as I scold myself.
“Fucking hell. Grow the fuck up.”
It’s that stupid fucking wig.
I refocus my attention. I think of the envelope that showed up in the mailbox this morning from Julianna’s parents. I didn’t open it, but I know it was filled with brochures for church camps and Christian therapy for Brynn. They probably threw in a bank statement, too. They usually do. Just to remind me of how much Jules’s life insurance payout was.
And then, because Helen works at the bank and thinks she’s above the law, there’s probably a statement in there of my mortgage. The one I took out to pay for Jules’s experimental treatments, despite knowing they likely wouldn’t work. They gave her one more year with Brynnlee, though, so I try not to regret it.
If the Larks really want to fuck with me, they could throw in my student loan debt that’s piling up. That one is especially frustrating because I don’t have a degree to show for it. Or if they got their hands on the business books from a few weeks ago, they’d use those dismal numbers to their advantage as well.
I remind myself of the other things they’d use to their advantage if they could.
I remind myself of the promise I made.
I think of Brynn.
Then, like the fucking grown man that I am, I stand straight and head back to the studio. I walk through one of the side doors and weave my way back through the sound stage. When I get to the kitchen set, it’s empty but for a few sound and lighting techs.
“She’s in her trailer, if that’s who you’re looking for,” a voice says, and I turn to find a girl with a clipboard and a headset. It’s the same girl I’ve seen carting Savannah around the studio. I raise an eyebrow and she blinks. “I’m Dakota. I’m a PA. I’m assigned to Sava—I mean, Ms. Loveless.”
I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes.
