Page 7 of Love: Take Two

I blink my eyes rapidly to clear the thought.

He's notmyNoah—and back then, he didn't want to beanyone's anything—but if he's who I think he is, Tabitha won't be the only person wishing she could quit. If it's the Noah I think it is, I'm about to come face-to-face with a twenty-year-old mistake.

Instead of panicking, I take a few calming breaths and walk to Tabitha's trailer.

"So, how are you feeling?" I ask as soon as I close the door behind me. Tabitha rounds on me with a glare.

"Like a fucking idiot!" she fumes. "I finally find a role I can really sink my teeth into. Something to shut up all the critics…and my mom." That last part is said with no small amount of resentment, and I'm reminded that unimpressible parents are something we have in common.

"Miraculously," she continues, "there's a hole in my schedule the perfect size to shoot the movie. It feels like fate."

Her expression goes dreamy as she imagines her bright future, then she resumes angrily blotting her smudged lipstick.

"Only now I'm stuck with some community theaterhackwho's going to ruin everything!"

I walk to her vanity and place my hands on her shoulders, trying to ease them down.

"He can't possibly ruin everything," I assure her. "The script is amazing. The director is legendary. AndTabitha Fucking Stylesis the star!"

She gives me a reluctant smile.

We both know I'm laying it on a little thick, but only I know that everything I said is true. This moviewillbe great. Because she's in it, and because it means so much to her. After years of molding herself to meet the whims of countless casting directors and studio execs—many of whom wear their misogyny and sexism as badges of honor—she's finally going after what she wants: to be taken seriously as an actor. It's risky, as her character couldn't be more different from the roles she usually takes, but it will pay off.

Ithasto pay off.

"You're worth every bit of the fifteen percent I pay you," she grins.

I smirk, grabbing a seltzer from the mini-fridge before settling onto the plush couch. I still remember when Tabitha barely got a folding chair to sit on between takes. Now, she has a high-end RV, complete with air conditioning, leather upholstery, a private bathroom, and a queen-size bed. It's bigger than the apartment I had all through law school.

"Rory let me know that Yong-rae's agent is on the way. He'll have a talk with him. With the press already sniffing around, the powers that be want things back on track andfast."

"I'm surprised they aren't already calling their backup," Tabitha muses, swiveling in her chair to face me. "Maybe I should say something to Edward?"

"Definitely not," I answer, surprised she'd even consider such drastic measures at this point. "After all the effort spent to find him, they don't want to look foolish by replacing him after less than a week."

"Well, I don't know how much more of this shit I can take," she pouts. "I signed on to act in a film, not babysit someone who would've gotten thrown out of theater camp!"

I tut my disapproval.

"If I remember correctly," I start, my voice stern, "there was an actor a while back who threw up with nerves the first day of every job. She'd stay up all night running lines, then freeze when the cameras started rolling. She drove the crew crazy with her rituals to get in the zone for a take. And now she has two People's Choice Awards."

Tabitha grumbles something about playing dirty, and I chuckle.

"I'm not saying you're wrong to be pissed," I offer in a more soothing tone. "I'm only saying that you're such a pro, I think you forget how hard this job actually is."

She purses her lips in annoyance.

"Fine," she relents.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing again, then stand, smoothing down my skirt.

"I'm off to meet the agent. You stay here and get 'in the zone'."

Tabitha sticks out her tongue at me, and this time, I can't help but laugh. As dramatic as she is, she's certainly in the right profession.

My laughter stops abruptly when I walk up and see who Rory's talking with by the craft table. I inwardly wince when she sees me, but roll my shoulders back and approach instead of ducking into the makeup tent.

I'm a professional. I can handle running into an ex. Or whatever he is.