Now a Major Motion Picture (22 page)

“Hellooo? Colin. That’s what. You two met in New York, right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we did. It
is
a pretty crazy coincidence.”

“Well, he seems like a nice guy.” An edge of sarcasm had crept into Nina’s voice.

“He is.” Amelia’s mind raced to find a new subject. “So you got a call? What’s going on?”

At once, Nina was all business again. She stopped walking and leaned against a column of bricks on the corner of the building Amelia had been sitting in before Colin had paged her.

“There are some plans in the works that I need to run by you. I hate to press you even harder than I already am, but Nick and I had this idea for something that could be really cool.” She peered hard at Amelia. “What do you think about a web convention?”

She chewed her lip and considered it. Nick Edwards, a contract member of the publishing house’s publicity team, was webmaster of the site that provided a centralized hub for the online fan base surrounding her books. The breadth of his work was mind-boggling to her.

“A web convention. That’s different from a physical convention, right? Like not at a convention center? Where would we do it?”

“Yeah, it’s different. We could do it anywhere…Memphis, if you prefer. It’d take place totally online, facilitated through a link from your site. It’d be structured like a physical convention, with you and your fans there at the same time, but with a global reach. There’d be sessions planned for set times, Q&As on different topics, that type of thing. You’d have scheduled times to appear, like any other physical appearance. It’d be a new way for you to interact with your fans. I think they’d love it.”

She gave Amelia a satisfied smile, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

Amelia nodded slowly. “I don’t see why not. You know what’s working, so I’m leaving this up to you. You’ve done an amazing job so far.”

“Thank you. But I’m not fishing for compliments. You’re a pro at this too, and I want your input. You’ve had some great ideas.”

Amelia felt an inner glow at the remark. Nina’s work, though far more specialized, wasn’t all that different from her own PR experience. But Nina moved at lightning speed in a huge, competitive market, and Amelia had complete respect for her expertise. She felt inspired—and a surge of something like homesickness for her old job—every time she got an inside look at Nina’s creative process.

“Well, thanks,” she said. “We both know that’s BS, though. All the great ideas have been yours. And as for this one, sure. I’m completely on board. Just tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

“Perfect. The more we can keep this book in the headlines before the movie comes out, the better.”

Amelia stiffened, her mind moving back to Colin and the dressing room. She knew what would get the books and movie in the headlines—and that had been Nina’s idea, too. But she was damn sure not on board with that one.

She shook off the thought. “Yeah, um. Yeah. Great.”

Nina smiled. “I’ll get Nick right on it.” She gave Amelia another appraising look. “So how are things going? You holding up okay?”

She nodded, her eyes wide. “I’m holding up fine. This is fun.”

“It is pretty cool, huh? Kind of grueling, though. Good thing you’re only here one more day. I know you haven’t had much time for the new book.”

Amelia felt her stomach muscles tighten. She’d barely had ten minutes alone with Colin, and already their time together was more than halfway over. She’d be back on set before filming was finished, but the dates for that hadn’t been scheduled yet. It depended on how things progressed and how much the crew needed her.

She didn’t want to think about leaving the set. She just wanted to think about leaving the spot she was standing in and going back to Colin. A nervous tingle started in her stomach and traveled to her throat.

As Nina lifted her phone to take a call, Amelia mouthed good-bye and turned on her heel to make a quick escape. But before she took the first step, she saw him out of the corner of her eye. He’d left his trailer and was hurrying toward the set with several crew members surrounding him.

She sighed and headed in the same direction to return to work.

* * *

She didn’t get another chance to be alone with him that day, which dragged endlessly as that realization began to sink in. They caught each other’s eyes a couple of times in the midst of their work, and that only made things worse.

That night, she left the set even later than usual. As she rushed to reach the spot where her cab was picking her up—cell phone in hand, a text to Colin half-composed on its screen—she jumped when someone’s fingers closed around the top of her arm. She spun around and found herself face to face with him.

“Oh, shit. You scared me to death.”

“I’m sorry.” He was out of breath. “I couldn’t let you leave. This is crazy. I can’t remember the last time I was this busy at a shoot. Things haven’t been going very smoothly.”

She nodded. She’d picked up on that, feeling the chaos in the air around her as she was pulled in a hundred different directions.

“I really feel like things will be better tomorrow. Then maybe we can get more than a few minutes alone together.”

His eyes burned into hers, and she knew his mind was on today’s few minutes. She blushed and took a furtive look around, worried about how their intimate stance looked to the crew members and bystanders still milling around the set.

He followed her gaze and then turned her chin to face him. “Who cares about them? I only care about you.”

She smiled at that, an apology in her eyes. Before she could respond, he gripped her arms, pulled her toward an indention in the building behind them, and grazed her lips with his. When her entire body tensed up, he sighed and dropped his hands to his sides. She took a small step back and looked around again, relieved nobody seemed to have seen them.

“Why don’t you come with me—”

His words were interrupted by a shrill blast of Jay Z. He pulled his phone out, glanced at the screen, and looked up apologetically.

“Hold on just a sec.”

He backed up a couple of steps to take the call, and she squinted into the darkening night for the car she knew would be there any second. They stood under a covered walkway with a U-shaped drive in front of it. The letters painted on the glass doors of the building identified it as the Student Center, but it showed no signs of life tonight. Somewhere in the distance, a lawn mower whirred. The sound mingled with the occasional, far-off shouts of crew members as they moved equipment around the set.

Colin mumbled several “okays” and “uh-huhs” before ending his call with a sigh and an “I’ll be right there.”

He gave her a sheepish look as he stuck the phone back in his pocket. He started to speak, but she interrupted him.

“It’s okay,” she said, though a wave of disappointment washed over her. A second later, her own phone rang.

Nina.

She silenced the phone, deciding she’d call her back from the car. She gave Colin a long look and then tore her eyes from his at the sound of approaching tires.

Her cab.

She sighed and moved toward the car in what felt like slow-motion. She slid into the backseat and reached for the door handle. He put his hand out as if to stop her from leaving, but then pressed his lips together and closed the door behind her.

She smiled wistfully at him as he watched her pull away, his expression chagrined.

Frustrations

In her hotel room that night, Amelia flipped their afternoon encounter over and over in her mind. She thought about where things had been headed, where she’d wanted—oh, God, she’d wanted—them to go.

But not like that.

Not there in his dressing room, in that rush, in that panic. She didn’t know where she stood with Colin or what he wanted. Between the distance and their crazy schedules, they’d been forced to take things slow, and that was fine by her. Slow was almost more than she could handle. She’d jumped in head-first once before, and it was against her nature—it was nothing but trouble.

She flipped off the bathroom light and crossed the room to crawl into yet another empty bed. She burrowed into a pile of pillows and flung an arm across her eyes, trying in vain to block out the memories this day had forced on her.

After Noah, there’d been blackness. Months of blackness that had dragged on and on. She’d filled her days mercilessly, focused so hard on her job that some nights, she didn’t even bother to go home.

She didn’t see the people around her, especially the men. She hated listening to co-workers gossip about the guys they were dating—she always found some project to get back to, some reason to drop out of the conversation. Work had been her life, her food, her breath.

One night, one of those extra-long nights when she was the last one at the office, mulling over whether to take the late train back to the Village or just camp out on her manager’s office couch, she was startled to realize in fact she wasn’t the only one left on her floor. A guy from another client team was there, too, finishing up a presentation. She’d met him before, but couldn’t remember his name. He’d just made a fresh pot of coffee and brought her some. He was boyishly good-looking, with auburn, kind of rusty-colored hair and eyes that were green flecked with gold. She remembered thinking he had nice eyes.

They wound up sitting on the floor beside her desk for hours, talking. She told him about Noah. He told her about his girlfriend of almost six years, who’d moved to the city with him from Ohio and dumped him earlier that week for some guy she’d met at the gym.

By 2:00 a.m., talking had turned into kissing. They made out for about half an hour before she cut it off, told him she had to get out of there. He went back to work. She caught a cab home.

Two nights later, they went out after work for a drink. That date led to another one, and then another, and within two weeks he’d gone home with her while her roommate was out of town and wound up staying all night.

Tears streaked her cheeks as she remembered how she’d felt, lying in her bed beside this virtual stranger who was suddenly more familiar to her than the man she thought she’d known inside and out. Josh—his name was Josh Bennett—was an okay guy. He was good to her, gentle, even sweet. But three weeks later his ex-girlfriend turned up crying on his doorstep, and he let her back in.

Amelia hadn’t even been upset, not really. She was numb from head to foot, oblivious to pain. Being with Josh, with anybody, felt like the final step she’d had to take to move past Noah. Not to get over him. Obviously she hadn’t done that—she still hadn’t done that. But to step out of the blackness, move on with her life.

She hadn’t slept with another man since Josh. She’d dated plenty—her friends were always trying to set her up with some “great guy” they knew. But after what she’d almost had with Noah—what he’d ripped away from her, along with her heart, her whole reason for being—she couldn’t bear the thought of ever again feeling the ice-cold emptiness she’d felt on that bed, on that night, with Josh’s warm arms wrapped around her.

She scooted her body deeper into the pillows, drawing up her legs and clutching her knees. Her shoulders heaved in rhythm with her sobs.

It wouldn’t be like that with Colin. She could feel that. With Colin, she could
feel
again, period. That alone was progress. And she wanted him. Wanted to be with him, to explore what life could be with him.

But what did he want from her?

She wasn’t numb anymore. She could feel everything now, and she knew she couldn’t handle being hurt again. It had been years since Noah had obliterated her heart, and all this time she’d clung to the fragments. But she still wasn’t whole. If she gave what was left to Colin, could he help put her back together?

Or would he finish her off?

Oh, God, I don’t know what to do.

If their conversations from the past few months were any kind of indicator, Colin was the real deal. The night they’d met she’d been sure he was a player, but he didn’t
seem
like he was playing her. But honestly, where could this go? Their lives were so different. They couldn’t even have a conversation without getting interrupted by the million things and people pulling at them, so how could they manage a relationship?

Amelia wasn’t even sure if Colin wanted a relationship. And she couldn’t handle a casual thing. Could she?

She looked down at her frumpy T-shirt and her old, plaid PJ pants. How could she even be thinking about having sex with Colin? The worlds they occupied might as well be separate planets. She’d been with
one guy
. How many women had he slept with? Fifteen? Fifty? And who were they? Starlets? Supermodels?

Was she the token author he could strike off his list?

Her shoulders shook again under the weight of her confusion and frustration. That wasn’t fair to Colin. He couldn’t help the fact that his job was glamorous—that didn’t automatically make him a jerk. But she wasn’t sure she was willing to test that theory.

She jumped as her phone began to buzz beside her on the nightstand. She reached for it and watched as Colin’s name flashed across the screen.

Her finger froze in place above “Accept Call,” but she didn’t click it. Instead she waited for the ringing to stop and then turned off the phone. She switched off the lamp above her head, curled up in the middle of the great big bed and closed her eyes, even though she knew it’d be a long time before she found solace in sleep.

* * *

When she arrived on set the next morning, she was startled to find that the first item on her itinerary was a meeting with Colin. It wasn’t in his trailer this time, but in the production team’s makeshift headquarters, set up in a hallway of classrooms in the cleared-out sports complex that had filled so many roles this week. She followed a female PA down a long corridor of the low brick building, their footsteps echoing off the drab cinder block walls. They passed the catering room. She could smell the coffee from the hallway, and when she glanced in she saw a couple of people lingering around trays of fruit and donuts. Otherwise the hall was quiet.