Ever since my meeting with Monsieur Price, I have walked a red carpet every night. Smiled on a different man’s arm. I am a prop. And Price’s puppet.

For his part, Wills played his role as my bodyguard perfectly, even though he did not understand why I changed course and threw myself back into modeling. I went with him to Complete where he set me up with Trina as my personal trainer. When Zak started a self-defense class, I was the first to join. Just leaning a few moves makes me feel more confident. Should I ever need to use them. Visions of Monsieur Price spur me on to challenge myself and become stronger.

Among publicity gigs, working out at Complete and running my lines for my cameo, I barely have any time for myself. But for Wills—who has not been back to his flat all week—and my private Instagram account, I would not have been able to keep my sanity intact. Being a pawn for the paparazzi every night has pushed me to my limits.

“You’re going to do great today, Angel,” he says with “Ninja Heroes” playing softly in the background.

I smile. Being in a movie is exciting, even though I am playing myself and it is a small role. It could lead me to other opportunities, perhaps away from the Agency. I shake my head—I do not want to cloud my first-ever movie shoot with confusing thoughts about my future.

Reveling in his faith in me, I reply, “I cannot wait. And I am very happy you are able to come with me.”

Wills takes me in his arms. “I’m always happy to come with you.” He kisses me, hard, and all thoughts about my career vanish. Even though he still has not said the words, I know he must love me. He could not treat me with such care and attention otherwise.

My front doorbell rings, signaling the car from the studio has arrived. “See,” I giggle as I wipe my lipstick from his lips, “this is why I never had to learn how to drive.”

Wills powers off the TV and wraps his arm around me, leading me to the front door. With his free hand, he pulls out his own key to my house and locks up. “You’re doing really well on that front, too. Tomorrow, I have plans for you to drive on the 101. It’ll be good practice.”

I smile as we slip into the limo.

When we arrive on set, I am whisked into wardrobe, hair and makeup. They put me in a tight mini dress that zips straight up the front. My stilettos are sky high and my hair is styled in loose curls, hoop earrings dangling and a funky bracelet around my wrist. This outfit is fun. I step out of the dressing area where Wills is waiting for me.

“Damn, Angel, that’s some outfit. You look great.”

“Merci.” I run my hands down my sides and take the bottle of water he offers.

“You’re going to do great. I can’t wait to see you take all of them by storm when they see how well you know your lines.”

His confidence sparks my own. I am going to own this.

“There you are, Miss Dubois.” A short woman with frizzy hair comes up to me. She removes a stack of papers from a clipboard, introducing herself as Sally, the director’s assistant. “Here are your change pages. Come with me.”

Looking from Wills to the woman, I have no choice but to follow her. Thankfully, Wills is at my side, calming my nerves.

“Excuse me, but what are these ‘change pages?’ This is my first time on a movie set.”

Stopping in a narrow hallway littered with all sorts of cables, she says, “I should have explained. They are the changes that were made to your lines since we sent them to you. Things change all the time on a set and tweaks are made to lines as a result. Don’t worry—usually they are minor.” She ushers me through an opening in a wall. “Now here we are.”

We step onto a set that looks like a coffeehouse. My old lines had me ordering a café and exchanging some words with the barista before a fan interrupts us and asks for a selfie. The fan is played by Brandan Rogers, who is the star of the movie. At least he is an ally of sorts, after having walked a red carpet with him recently.

Wills blocks my vision of everything but him, grabbing onto my forearms. “You’re going to be amazing, Ems. Break a leg.” His eyes flip down to my shoes. “Well, maybe not. Enjoy yourself out there. I’ll be right here, cheering you on.” He kisses my lips and disappears among the movie crew.

Gripping the change pages like a lifeline, I walk over to the counter and skim the new words. I had some lines in French before. They have not changed.

Mon. Dieu.

My heartrate accelerates triple time. My eyes flick around the set. Looking. No. I do not want to do this. I close my eyes, counting backward—quatre, trois, deux, un, zéro—

“There she is,” a Spanish-accented male voice booms. It is a voice I know all too well. One that I once welcomed whispering into my ear, and the last one I expected to hear on the set of my first movie taping.

My whole body stiffens. I am a professional. I can do this. I open my eyes. “Bonjour, Rinaldo.”

My ex-boyfriend stands in front of me wearing a football jersey and tight—very tight—black leather pants. His dark hair has been slicked back. He looks tan. And relaxed.

“Emmie, it is so good to see you.”

He kisses both of my cheeks. Whereas my whole body used to strum when his lips met mine, now I do not even feel a flicker. All because of Wills. Where is he?

I speak the truth about my surprise. “I did not know you were going to be doing this movie, too.”

“Yeah, I got the call a couple of days ago. Something about the producers wanting to take advantage of our prior relationship and feed into the tabloid rumors going on. Of course, I always enjoy spending time with you.” He winks and runs his hands through his hair, a grin tipping his lips. One that used to make me drop my panties. Now they firmly remain in place.

He rubs a lock of my hair between his fingers. He pitches his voice lower. “Have you missed me?”

I step back and reclaim my hair as my own. “Actually, I have moved on. I have a boyfriend now.” I look around but cannot find Wills. “He is here somewhere.”

His eyebrows go up. “Really? I can’t wait to meet him.” Shrugging, Rinaldo holds up his script. “I know we had to go our separate ways, and I’m sorry for how the tabloids are exploiting us right now, but let’s try to have some fun with this. Are you ready to run our lines? I think we should practice.”

“I was just given these change pages and have not had time to read through all of them yet.”

Rinaldo nods. “Why don’t we go over them while we wait for the crew to be ready for us?”

Looking around, many people flutter about the set. They all look like they are doing something important with cameras, microphones, lighting. No one pays us much attention, so I guess we will not be filming for a while. And I do need to know what to expect.

“Sounds like a good idea.”

His eyes light up as his hand reaches out for mine. Without thought, I put mine in his and we walk over to an area with better lighting. Face-to-face, we begin to go over the dialogue.

Not many words have changed from my original script. Rinaldo and I fall into a good rhythm and we almost sound like normal people talking rather than two people reading off a piece of paper.

Things are feeling natural. Until I flip to the final page.

RINALDO: “Running into you here, of all places” [motion toward the coffeehouse] “reminds me of who we were before publicity took hold of us.”

EMILIE: “Oui. I remember. We used to go out without cameras. When it was just you and me.” [place hand on his chest]

RINALDO: “We were so good together.”

EMILIE: [cast eyes downward, then slowly trail them up to his eyes] “Maybe we could try again?”

RINALDO: [smiles] “Things are so different now. The paparazzi are everywhere.”

EMILIE: “I don’t care. Let them watch us.”

I stumble over the second word. “Donut. Doont. Dont.”

Rinaldo laughs for real, a deep throaty sound. Which causes me to giggle, my hand covering my face.

“You still can’t do contractions, can you Emmie?” He wipes the corners of his eyes.

I shake my head. “My mouth simply cannot form the sounds.”

“Remember the time,” he bends over, hands on his thighs. No need for me to respond, I know exactly what he is talking about. I join in his laughter.

After a minute, he stands. “Thanks, Emmie. I needed that laugh. God, we had some good times.”

“We did laugh a lot.”

Wills crosses my line of vision and my smile falls away. Wills. My bottom lip comes between my teeth. I catch his eyes—blazing blue—and smile at him, motioning for him to come over. He heads our way with the lithe grace of a panther. I swallow over my trepidation.

“Rinaldo, I would like to introduce you to Wills Sumner, my boyfriend. Wills, this is Rinaldo García.” No further description needed.

Wills extends his hand to my co-star. “Rinaldo.” His voice is hard, unlike any tone I have heard him use before. Is he … jealous? He has absolutely no reason to be.

Rinaldo clasps the offered hand with ease, a smile still tugging at his full lips. “Nice to meet you.” The handshake lasts an inordinate amount of time.

I place my hand on my boyfriend’s forearm, the muscles tighter than a brick, and take a deep breath. “Apparently the producers made a last-minute substitution of actors with the change pages.” Wills drops his hand and looks at me. “Most of my lines are the same, though.”

Rinaldo pipes up. “We haven’t finished going over everything yet.”

I glance down at the rest of the sheet. Three more lines and the scene ends. Wait. There is a stage direction at the very end. [RINALDO and EMILIE kiss as flashbulbs go off. A fan {BRANDAN} comes up and asks for a selfie.]

Mon Dieu.

My eyes travel between my old boyfriend and my current love. How can I do this? I cannot kiss Rinaldo in front of Wills. And I certainly will not practice this.

“Want to help us with our lines to make sure we’re doing them right?” Rinaldo offers his script to Wills.

No. No. No. My heart rate accelerates faster than a seamstress’s hands during Fashion Week. “You do not have to. I am sure the director will want us to go over our lines for her.” I look around, frantically looking for someone in charge. Anyone.

Wills looks at me and reads my distress. “I have every confidence that Emilie knows what she is doing.”

“Well, we only have the last page to go over anyway.” He sports a smirk that I used to find incredibly sexy dancing on his lips. Now, not so much. Rinaldo shakes his script back. “Emmie, let’s finish up before the cameras turn on us.”

“Emmie,” Wills repeats, his jaw tightening. “I’ll let you get back to your rehearsal.” His eyes roam over me.

I am in the middle of a testosterone-fueled death match that will not end well, considering the way my scene ends in the script. I turn to Rinaldo who is eyeing me with a wicked gleam in his brown eyes. I blurt out the first thing that comes to my mind. “Have you seen where they have water?”

Wills points to a long table across the set. “Would you like me to get you a bottle?”

I nod. “If that is okay?”

“Of course.” Wills looks to Rinaldo and takes a couple of steps toward the table.

“Hey, Wills, can you get me one too?”

Wills continues walking, pretending as though he is too far out of earshot to have heard the petty request.

When he is a safe distance away, I hiss. “Rinaldo, why did you do that? You and I have been over for nearly two years and there is no reason for you to act that way around Wills.”

“When went out to dinner a few months ago in Barcelona, I realized how much I missed you. This guy—” he tilts his head toward the food area—“has only been in the picture for what? A few weeks?”

“No, he has—”

Rinaldo waves his hand to cut me off. “Whatever. He doesn’t have years of history like we do.”

“I love him.”

“You loved me once, too.”

I thought I did, but it is so much better with Wills. “What I have with Wills is different.”

“That guy’s intense, Emmie. Does he make you laugh like we did?”

Laugh? Well, no. He has so much pain. But I am helping him. And he supports me. He has delved deeper into my soul than Rinaldo ever did. “We have a good time. He sees me.”

He reaches out and strokes my cheek. “I see you too, Emmie. I see your beautiful hazel eyes that show your every expression. They change when you’re happy, or sad,” He leans in, “or turned on.”

I step back, my eyes drawing into slits. “Or annoyed. What are you doing? I thought you are dating Geonna Broz anyway.”

“Not really. Just some publicity dates our reps set up, but that’s pretty much over now.”

Great.

“Everything okay here, Ems?”

Wills opens a bottle of water and offers it to me. “Merci. Yes, all is good.” He nods and tosses a bottle toward Rinaldo, proving he is too much of a gentleman to play Rinaldo’s games.

“Thanks, man. It was getting a bit hot in here.” Rinaldo opens the top and drinks about half of the bottle.

As I roll my eyes at the both of them, the short, frizzy haired woman appears at my right. “There you two are. We’re ready to do the blocking and lay your scene down.”

“Great. I, for one, am ready to pick back up where we left off.” Rinaldo finishes the bottle of water and tosses it into a recycling bin with perfect aim.

Beside me, the woman eats Rinaldo up with her eyes. “Come this way, please.”

I shake my head and walk to Wills. “I love you.” I kiss his lips, moving against them until he finally responds.

I pull back a fraction. “I had no idea that Rinaldo had been cast in the movie, you do know that, right?”

Wills strokes my back. “I know. Don’t worry about me, just go out there and knock everyone’s socks off.”

“Wills,” my eyes close. “The new script calls for me to kiss him. I am so sorry.”

I open my eyes in time to see his jaw tighten. He clears his throat. “Do what they want. This is your big moment. Don’t even think about me, okay?”

I nod, and his lips crash down on mine. Then I walk away to start my movie career.

Once we get warmed up, I start to relax and enjoy the process. Hitting my mark, saying my lines. But for Rinaldo, I would dare say I am having fun. The producer gives me so much support and encouragement, saying my lines are very fluid.

She stops us about halfway through our run through. “You’re a natural, Emilie!” She turns to Rinaldo. “You’re doing great, too, Rinaldo, but why don’t you try to do it this way next time.”

She pulls Rinaldo off to the side and I sag into a chair, grateful for the slight reprieve. The frizzy-haired woman reappears and offers me a plate filled with grapes. “The sugar will help you get through the shoot,” she explains.

“Thanks,” I say as I pop one in my mouth, enjoying the burst of flavor that comes when I bite down.

“He’s hot, but he’s struggling a bit. The director will bring him up to scratch quickly, don’t you worry.”

Mouth full of grapes, I can only nod in agreement.

“So, you really used to date him?”

I swallow. “Oui. But I am with someone else now. Rinaldo is part of my past.”

“In that case, my advice—for what it’s worth—is when you get to the kiss, remember you’re acting. This is just a part. I’ve seen relationships derail because the actors blur the lines.”

“Merci. I am very clear about the lines, both on the script and in my life.” I pop another grape into my mouth and pray Rinaldo is as well.

The director and Rinaldo come back and we go over the entire scene, minus the kiss, one final time.

“Okay, are you ready to put this down?”

We are not going to rehearse the kiss at all? My eyebrows pull together, then ease apart—wrinkles. As if reading my thoughts, the director continues, “I would like to get your real reactions at the end of the scene, so let’s not go over that, okay?”

Maybe I will get lucky and we can do this in just one take.

The set comes to a hush and we begin filming. I hit all of my marks. Remember all my lines. Whatever the director said to Rinaldo has helped him, too, as his performance is smoother than during our rehearsals.

“Running into you here, of all places”—his hand waves toward the coffeehouse set— “reminds me of who we were before publicity took hold of us.”

“Oui. I remember. We used to go out without cameras. When it was just you and me.” I touch my fingers to his chest.

His breath hitches. “We were so good together.”

I look at my stilettos, then skim up Rinaldo’s body, my palm now flat against his chest and covered by his hand. His heart is beating with such force that I am amazed the cameras have not picked up the thumping. In response, my heart remains quiet. “Maybe we could try again?”

His lips raise, exposing bright white teeth, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “Things are so different now. The paparazzi are everywhere.”

“I do not care.” No contractions for me. “Let them watch us.”

Rinaldo takes the Styrofoam cup from me and places it on the countertop, next to his. Running his fingers through my hair, he keeps a lock in between his fingers. He lowers his voice. “I don’t give a damn either.” His eyes close and he brings his head toward mine.

The script calls for me to kiss him now.

I can do this.

I kissed him a million times before.

I must do this.

I do not want to do this.

At the final millisecond, I turn my head away from him—and the cameras—so that his lips contact my cheek.

“Excuse me,” a new male voice breaks into our awkward embrace. Rinaldo and I look at Brandan as he steps into our scene. “I knew you two were still together! Do you mind if I get a selfie with you?”

“AND, CUT!!”

I step back from the two men, my eyes going in all directions, my arms hugging my body. I do not want to redo this scene. I also do not want to be labeled as “hard to work with.”

The director comes up to us. “That was great! Emilie, I loved your last second choice! Rinaldo’s kissing you on the cheek plays perfectly on the camera.”

I exhale, my arms dropping to my sides.

Rinaldo’s rumbling baritone rips from his throat. “Glad you liked it.”

“Stay here, you three. I’ll be back in a moment.”

After exchanging greetings with Brandan, who seems more relaxed than the last time I saw him, I say, “You look like you are in your element here.”

Brandan smiles and leans in to whisper, “I do like making movies, it’s just the red carpets I hate. But don’t tell anyone.” He straightens and bumps my shoulder.

Rinaldo jumps into the conversation. Of course. “So, any pointers for me about how to improve my acting chops?” He raises his arm, making a muscle.

Brandan laughs at his obvious play for attention. “You did good. Not as good as our Emilie here, but good.”

I bask in Brandan’s praise. He gives Rinaldo some pointers while I lock eyes with Wills, who is standing by the side wall. He gives me a thumbs-up, which eases my discomfort with the new ending.

The director reappears after a few moments and goes over some things with us about lighting and such. We redo the scene five more times, stopping and starting at various spots. Each time, I feel more confident. The lines in English come as easily as those in French.

“Good job, everyone. Why don’t you all take a break for lunch? I want to make sure we have everything we need.” The director motions toward the area Wills got us the waters, so many hours ago.

The three of us head toward Craft Services. “Do all movies work this way? I mean, so many starts and stops?”

Brandan chuckles. “Yeah. Pretty much. A lot of hurry up and wait.”

“This is not what I am used to. With fashion shows, it is all go, go, go. Shoots can take a bit longer, but not like this.”

Rinaldo adds, “Can you imagine if we took this long at a game? The thing would never end.”

We arrive at the food, and the men rush off for the sandwiches. I grab a half of a turkey sandwich for myself.

“You’re amazing, Ems.”

Placing my plate on the buffet table, I smile up into warm blue eyes. Erasing all the kisses Rinaldo gave my cheek, I bring my lips to his.

Wills wraps his arms around me for a brief moment, squeezes, then lets me go. “You looked great out there.”

“Merci. I did not know that Rinaldo was going to—”

“Shhh, Angel. It’s all good.”

“What did I do to deserve you? You are amazing. All this time, I was worried that you would be upset about the kiss.”

“You’re just doing a job.” He kisses both of my cheeks. “C’mon, let’s get some food in you. You didn’t eat breakfast and it’s already past lunchtime.”

My stomach rumbles at his suggestion, making me giggle. We head toward the tables where Rinaldo and Brandan already are sitting, facing each other. Wills arrives first and motions for me to put my plate down. I choose to sit next to Brandan and diagonally across from Rinaldo.

When both Wills and Brandan head back for seconds, Rinaldo rubs an apple on his jersey. “I could get used to doing this movie-making stuff.” He takes a big bite out of his fruit.

I take a final bite of my sandwich and reach for my water bottle. “It is fun.”

“Hey, did you know that I’m doing a Calvin Klein underwear commercial, Emmie? That’s why I was flown out here originally, and then one thing led to another, and here I am.”

“Oui, here you are.” Lucky me.

He continues to devour the apple. “I think we should go out while I’m in town. Catch up, for old time’s sake.”

I choke on my water, wishing it was something stronger. I point to the seat vacated by Wills. “I am dating him, remember?”

“Of course, I didn’t mean it that way.” He looks all innocent. Maybe I overreacted? “All I meant was that if our people set up a publicity outing for us, the paparazzi would go crazy and conjure up a love triangle among you, me and my recent fake flame Geonna.” Dropping the apple core on this plate, his fingers make a triangle to emphasize his point. “It could help you, as I’ve been led to believe that Geonna’s stealing some contracts from you.”

I wonder who told him that. Was it Geonna herself? “I am booked up. The Agency has me going out every night.” For once, I can use this fact as a shield.

He waves his hand. “We’ll see.” He picks up a cookie.

My curiosity comes to the fore. I cannot stop myself from asking, “You know, I have never met Geonna. What is she like?”

Rinaldo smiles like the Cheshire Cat. “She’s young. And innocent about how everything works in our world.”

“Do you like her?”

He shrugs. “She’s beautiful. And she brings me good press. What’s not to like?”

His response brings me up short. “Is that how you felt about me?”

Rinaldo puts the half-eaten cookie down on his plate and grabs my hand. “No way. We were the real thing, not just for show. If only our schedules didn’t keep us apart, I’m confident you’d still be with me right now.” He squeezes my hand for good measure.

I pull my hand away, dropping it into my lap. That is exactly how I felt about him for so long. Until I met Wills. My connection with him is so much stronger than anything I ever felt for Rinaldo. “You are a good guy. Maybe you should give Geonna more of a shot?”

He picks up the cookie again and finishes it in one bite. “Well, she does like going out to all the right places.”

How did I miss his shallowness before? I change tacks. “So, Maman tells me that your football season is going really well.”

Rinaldo smiles and launches into stories about his team. Sounds like they are on their way to the World Cup. I am happy for him. When Wills and Brandan retake their seats, I realize I am even happier for myself and my new life. At least my personal life.

Rinaldo’s phone rings and he excuses himself from the table. The director calls Brandan over to her, leaving Wills and me alone. Finally.

I reach across the table and offer him my hand, which he takes. “All good?” I hope seeing me with Rinaldo does not bring up any PTSD issues for Wills. If only he would agree to go to therapy.

“Yeah.”

I tap my index finger to his palm. “You are such a good man.” Perhaps if I repeat this often enough, he will believe me one day. Anger toward his father resurfaces. I shove down my praise for therapy, knowing now is not the time.

His eyes close. Clearing his throat, Wills asks, “So, am I going to be dating a supermodel slash movie star soon?”

“This is fun,” I look toward the set. “And the director said I am a natural.”

Wills leans forward, bringing his head near to mine. “You’re a natural at many things, Angel. Most of which are for my eyes only.”

My hand strokes his clean-shaven cheek, so in contrast to Rinaldo’s manicured stubble. I flatten my palm. “Oui. Only yours.”

“Sorry to interrupt you two lovebirds,” Rinaldo says. “But we are wanted back on the set, Emmie. Looks like the director wants to make some tweaks.” He winks at me.

“Go get ‘em, Ems.” Wills nods at Rinaldo.

After giving Wills another kiss, I follow my former boyfriend back to the set. Once we arrive, the director pulls me aside. “Emilie, first let me tell you how impressed I am. For never having any acting lessons, you are doing a great job.”

“I appreciate that.” The word “first” rings in my head. That means there will be a “second.”

“However,” here we go. I inhale a deep breath. “I would like to see how the scene would look if you did it exactly how it was written. So, this time, instead of turning your head, I want you and Rinaldo to actually kiss.”

I bite down on my bottom lip. Do I have a choice? “I thought you said you liked the change?”

“I do. But I also want to see it the other way. After all, there are so many people out there who still would love to see you and Rinaldo get back together. A kiss onscreen will give them what they want. Hope.”

Until they want more. “But my boyfriend—”

The producer puts her hand on my arm. “Emilie, this is acting. Not real life. Just pretend and go with it. Try it, okay?”

I swallow what feels like a boulder larger than those I was climbing on in the Caymans. “I guess so.”

“Great!” She claps. “Let’s go lay this down.”

Head down, I follow her back to the cameras. I can do this. I lift my face, and Rinaldo is wearing a smile that lights up his eyes. Wonderful. He leans over to me. “Looks like we’ll get the chance to reconnect after all. For the cameras, of course.” He raises both of his hands and steps back.

This is just pretend. Like when I do not like the clothes a designer gives me to wear on the catwalk and I sashay as if it is the most gorgeous thing I have ever seen. Rinaldo is just an ugly dress that I have to wear for the next couple of minutes. Then I can take it off and be done with it. Him.

“And action!”

The scene unfolds just as before. Too soon we arrive where I do not want to be. Rinaldo takes the Styrofoam cup from my suddenly cold hands and places it on the countertop, next to his. He runs his fingers through my hair, rubbing a lock in between them. He lowers his voice. “I don’t give a damn either.” His eyes close and he moves his lips forward until they meet mine.

My eyes fall shut a nanosecond before shock waves zing from the point of our contact. A small gasp escapes from me, but Rinaldo wraps one arm around me and continues the kiss. I am transported back to such kisses we used to share, both in front of cameras and in private. I sway into his embrace, my hands landing on his pumped-up shoulders for balance. When his free hand reaches for the zipper at the top of my dress, I catapult back to the present. My lips remain closed. I tighten my grip on his shoulders, otherwise, I could smack him. Self-defense moves Zak has been teaching me itch to be released. Neither of these options are in the script. Where is Brandan?

“Excuse me.” Brandan finally comes to my rescue. I remove my lips from Rinaldo’s. “I knew you two were still together! Do you mind if I a selfie with you?”

“AND, CUT!!”

I jump away from Rinaldo’s arms, giving him the evil eye. My fingers fly to my zipper, ensuring it is as high as it can go. He throws his head back and laughs.

“That was smoking hot, guys,” Brandan offers. “I could almost believe you’re getting back together.”

The director comes back to us. “Great job, you two. I got everything I need, so you can go back and change into your own clothes.” She offers her hand to Rinaldo. When she shakes my hand, she whispers, “The camera loves you. I would love to work with you again. I’ll be in touch.” She and Brandan head off to their next scene.

My thoughts are in complete disarray. The director gave me such high praise. Yet, Rinaldo made me feel dirty. And he did it on purpose.

“Now that’s what I was talking about.”

I roll my eyes. “It is called acting, Rinaldo. I was acting. And what was with your putting the moves on me back there? That was not in the script.”

He shrugs. “I ad-libbed.”

I grunt and stride away from him, causing him to laugh even more. Wills does not appear at all on my walk to the dressing room. Where is he? Did he get disgusted with what he saw?

As I strip out of the movie wardrobe and jump back into my own black capris and orange t-shirt, I hear Sally walking in with another woman. “I already had Callie fix my hair and makeup for my date tonight. Which earrings do you think will look best?”

Her companion—a woman I did not see before—shrugs. Sally replies, “I know, this is so hard. Running a movie set’s schedule is a cake walk as opposed to getting dressed for a first date. I usually go to this Instagram account for tips, but the woman who runs it hasn’t been on for almost a week.”

She is talking about me. I have not been able to log in for a week, given my crazy schedule. I step out of the shadows. “Maybe I can offer some advice?”

Both woman turn and look at me. “Oh my, we’re so sorry to bother you, Miss Dubois. I thought this dressing room was empty.”

I hold up my hand. “Please stay. I would love to help you.”

Sally forces her lips to turn upward. “That’s okay. I’ll figure something out.”

My shoulders sag. I take in her outfit, impressed with her now non-frizzy hair, and make up my mind. I am not taking “no” for an answer, especially since I can really help her out. “Please. I would really like to give you some advice. This is what I love about fashion. Do you have a black belt?”

Sally stops on her way to the door. “I, ah, do.” She lifts her shirt to reveal the wide belt.

“That is perfect! But you have it in the wrong place.” I approach her, my fingers itching to make the change. “Please let me help.”

Her shoulders rise and she nods. “I can use all the help I can get, I guess.” I ask her to take the belt off.

Hand outstretched, I ask, “May I?” Her nod is all the permission I need to grab the belt and wrap it around the outside of her blouse, securing it low on her hips. She already looks ten pounds lighter. Then, I open another button on her blouse, better exposing her funky necklace.

“I love your jewelry. It says so much about you.” Sally’s responding smile is genuine this time. “But, your bracelet is not right.”

“How about this one?” She holds up another option.

“No. Not that one either.” The bracelet I wore on set would be good. “Are you allowed to borrow anything from the set?”

“Well, it depends.”

I rush back to where I left my costume, grabbing the bracelet. “How about this?”

Her friend chimes in. “You’re done filming, right?” After I nod, she nudges Sally. “Go ahead. You know the director won’t mind, so long as you replace it tomorrow.”

I put the bracelet on, adjust her sleeves and nod. Her friend exclaims, “Wow. You look amazing. I never would’ve thought such simple changes would make this much difference.” She drags Sally off to a mirror.

“You’re a miracle worker, Miss Dubois!”

“Please, call me Emilie. And go out and have a wonderful evening.”

After thanking me ten times over, Sally gives me a huge hug. “Emilie, you were amazing on set, especially for a first-timer. The director even told me that herself. But, it is a loss to womankind everywhere that you’re not a stylist.” She smiles at me with appreciation as she and her friend leave my dressing area.

They have no idea I am the person behind the Instagram account that they rely upon. I have never heard anyone discuss my site in person before, and how much she likes it. The adrenaline rush from helping her soars.

Then comes crashing way down when I consider her other words about my being a natural actress. Maybe making the transition to movies is what I need. A change from what I have been doing for the past ten years.

Echoes of advice Wills gave me about modeling resurface. “Being good at something does not mean it is a good career choice.”

The better question I should ask myself is whether I like acting. Do I? It is fun, oui, but having to deal with all the minutia, the waiting, the retakes from so many different angles all the time would get old. Not to mention kissing random people—or in this case, an ex-boyfriend—made me feel uncomfortable.

No. Acting is not for me, long-term.

But for now, I am tied to this movie and my modeling obligations. And I am a professional who fulfills her obligations no matter the personal expense. I take a step toward the door and stop when it hits me that everything professional in my life is a chore. Like attending the after-party tonight will be. With Rinaldo, no less.

I need Wills right now.