Page 36 of Love: Take Two

"If you want to be Awa Faye so much, why didn't you reach out to Gehrig & Associates instead of Luxe when you passed the bar?"

My petulant tone surprises even me, and Camila frowns.

"It's not like that," she insists. "She's just a total badass. Did you know she graduated at the top of her class at Columbia Law?"

I didn't, but I was also actively avoiding hearing anything about her since we last spoke.

"She served as the editor-in-chief of the Columbia Law Review, and some people thought she should've clerked for a justice instead of going into entertainment."

It shouldn't annoy me that Camila is gushing over objectively impressive achievements, but it does. I chose not to pursue law school, to skip right to representing clients after landing that internship with William Morris. I don't regret it, especially since it meant getting Dad off my back, but to say I don't have a slight chip on my shoulder over law school would be a lie. One I'll never, ever admit to anyone.

"So what? Do you want her autograph or something?"

Camila takes a pen from the cup on my desk and throws it at me.

"Don't be a jerk, or I'll tell your brother. I was just hoping for an intro. Maybe a lunch where we can talk as fellow women in a male-dominated field."

She lifts an eyebrow in challenge, and I immediately fold. Iambeing a jerk. And to someone my brother loves, no less.

"My bad," I reply, my voice softer. "I can ask if she's willing to meet, but I can't make any promises. As you know—and now you knowwhy—things aren't exactly great between us."

She stands and pats my hand reassuringly.

"You can do it." She stops right before she exits my office. "And if not, I could always have my sister ask. She could ask if there are any roles open at Gehrig while she's at it."

She laughs before closing the door on my glaring face. We both know she loves it here. Despite its faults, Luxe is great about mentorship, and she's mere months from getting to work with clients directly.

I'll shoot Awa an email about Camila and let them take it from there. She may hateme, but I doubt she could resist helping another woman rising in the ranks. Hell, if she and Camila hit it off, she might even cut me a break for what happened all those years ago. One can only hope.

Chapter twenty

Awa

Iwalk past several doors along the outer gate until I reach the one marked "F.P." "F.P.", as in "Forced Proximity", the working title of this circus until the test audiences say otherwise. I steel myself before swiping my ID badge and stepping onto the lot.

The irony of working on a film called "Forced Proximity" while literally being forced to work alongside the man who jilted me decades ago is not lost on me. I also don't miss that, while we both went to school thousands of miles away in California, where there's a thriving film industry and streets that don't ice over from October through March, we also both ended up in New York.

As a recipient of the Hamilton Fellows Award, I wouldn't require loans to attend Columbia Law School; New York was the financially responsible choice. But as I received a similarscholarship to UCLA Law, I had to admit that avoiding the man who still occasionally featured in my darkest, steamiest fantasies was also a factor.

I carefully step over bound cables and nearly collide with a harried PA on my way to the video village.

After so much time spent in denial, it must've slipped my mind that Noah's actuallyfromhere. He brought it up more than once during our study breaks, when we'd snack on Oreos and Coke Zero and share personal details. That's when I learned all about his brothers, his career aspirations, and why he transferred to USC. I kept those facts tucked away in my mind until they'd pop up when I passed Oreos in the grocery store, or when one of my clients signed with William Morris, now WME.

New York is also notorious for crazy coincidences…or perhaps cruel jokes. Just last year, I ran into Malik, the son of one of my parents' friends, on the subway. He used to terrorize me in middle school, calling mebouboulewhen my shirt didn't tuck all the way into my uniform skirt, orbigleusebecause of my glasses. He's a dentist now, and though he's supposedly happily married, he stood way too close and insisted I take his number. I was sure to block it in case our meddling parents gave him mine.

And now, the city that never sleeps has conspired to bring me face to face with Noah Park. I slow down when I spot him already camped in a chair by the monitors.

Back when I only watched romance, I never knew how much he looked like Keanu Reeves. He's clean-shaven instead of sporting a full beard, and he doesn't keep his hair nearly as long, but otherwise, the resemblance is uncanny.

"Ce n'est pas juste," I mutter as I take my seat in the chair beside him. He looks up, a question in his eyes.

"What's not fair?"

I'm so surprised that I choke on my lukewarm latte.

"Since when do you speak French?" I stammer, trying to rein in my coughing.

He hands me a napkin, which I take with a grateful nod. His arm is out like he might pat me on the back, but he's not sure whether he should touch me. I wave him away.