Page 45 of Love: Take Two

Camila finally catches on that something is wrong when I'm silent for too long. She sets her wineglass down and grabs her water.

"U-uh," she stutters, her discomfort plain, "did I say something wrong?"

"No," I reply. My tone is clipped, and I don't return her shaky smile. Her face falls.

"Obviously I did," she mutters. "Using my awesome powers of deduction, I wasn't supposed to know what happened between you and Noah?"

"He's about to be your brother. I wouldn't expect you not to talk."

I flag the waiter down.

"Awa," she tries again. She holds her hands out in the universal sign to wait. "All Noah told me was that you hooked up once while you were at USC together. No details; no nothing. If there's more to the story, I don't know it, I swear. Please don't let me ruin lunch just because I drank too much wine and let my mouth get away from me."

I scan her face; she looks miserable. Her cheeks are drawn, and her eyes dart between me and the exit; she's panicked I'm about to leave.

I don't want to. I want to believe her and spend the rest of lunch gabbing with a promising new acquaintance. But it's safer not to. It's safer to stay closed off.

"Don't worry about it," I reassure her. Not to salvage the relationship, but to avoid a scene. "Lunch was lovely; I just have to get back to set."

She's buying what I'm saying about as much as expected, considering I'm not even trying to convince her it's true. Our conversation is stilted as I sign for the check, and we exchange awkward goodbyes before I'm back in the car.

I inhale a steadying breath before taking my tablet from my briefcase and scanning a contract amendment to distract from my warring emotions.

How could I be such a fool?! Here I am, doing my best to remain professional, while Noah's blabbing about our hookup and sending me off to lunch to be a punchline. How many more times am I going to let him hurt me?

He can consider our little truce over.

Chapter twenty-four

Noah

"That's not gonna fly, Roger," I say, exasperated. "Sachiko's six months pregnant, and she had to take the train to make it on time. How the hell are you going to say they're done for the day?"

I loosen my tie—it's already close to coming unknotted—as I listen to Roger's excuse for why Apex Casting Associates had me send my client in for a last-minute fit model call, only to send her home an hour later. If not for Sachiko's angry text from the cab ride home, I wouldn't have even known.

Fuckers.

Apex requested her specifically, and were delighted to learn that not only is she pregnant, she's showing. Apparently, their new line, which is targeting everyone from professional athletes to the merely health-conscious, will include maternityoptions. But from the sound of Roger's hemming and hawing, it won't include Sachiko.

Roger Harris is one of the shittier casting assistants I've had the displeasure of working with. He frequently reschedules at the last minute, gives the wrong room number for the call so my clients are left scrambling, and brings in more talent than the casting director could possibly see in the allotted time. I'm guessing he's someone's in-law or cousin because he keeps getting work. He also keeps putting my clients through the wringer.

"Well, thanks a lot," I sneer, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I don't bother saying goodbye before I hang up. Not only will I be making a complaint about Roger's behavior with Apex, but my clients will no longer participate in any calls where he's involved. No one needs to go through that.

Just as I'm about to dial the Apex main office, someone walks up and grabs my nearly full coffee cup, chucking it in the trash can.

"Hey!" I start, before realizing thatsomeoneis Awa. A very angry Awa who looks like she wants to rip me a new one. What did I do now?

"You have a lot of balls setting me up for an ambush like that!" she snarls. A few of her twists have come out of her neat bun, and her eyes are blazing. I'm assuming the sight shouldnotturn me on, but—

"What ambush?" I ask, racking my brain for how I messed up this time.

"Camila!" she shouts back. "I just got back from lunch with her—the lunchyousuggested—only for her to blindside me talking about,I know you and Noah have history, blah blah blah."

Her impression sounds nothing like me, but that's not what bothers me. Why the fuck would Camila bring up Awa and I's history? As a lawyer, I assumed she would know anything I told her was in confidence. And what the fuck would that have to do with a networking lunch, anyway?

Now I understand how Henry felt when he found out I'd told our other brothers about his first heartbreak, Naomi. He didn't speak to me for weeks.

But that was different!, I grumble to myself.