Page 84 of A Lucky Shot

He rocked to his feet and the bed’s recoil sent a combination of dizziness and regret swirling through her. “Now that I know you aren’t going to asphyxiate in your sleep, I’m going home. Think you’ll need a wake-up call tomorrow?”

“No, my shame will wake me at regular intervals in the night,” she muttered. “Besides, I’m pretty sure my phone is dead.”

“Nope. Full charge. Plugged it in for you when we got home.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She entered an alarm that would give her just enough time to shower, caffeinate, and slink onto set on time. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He stopped in the doorway. “I wanted to.”

Even through her current state, she felt better.

As long as she didn’t move.

Nobody asked questions when she rolled onto set, with a whole six minutes to spare, wearing her biggest, darkest sunglasses and a toque to hide the noise-reducing ear plugs she had popped in. Cass had slept most of the night, waking once for more water and to put on socks. Now when she moved her head too quickly, she felt like she was only near the brink of death, rather than right on it. To make up for the agony everywhere else in her body, she donned her favourite slouchy cashmere sweater she’d thrifted when she’d filmed on site in Dublin, and the wool paper bag pants that draped like a dream. Warm, comfortable, and it didn’t look like she was dragging her tush out of bed hungover after being jilted by a douchey architect.

Or whatever.

Ten years ago, she’d have cartwheeled into work after a binge like last night and gone out again the following night. Now, she had to remember to pack extra meds and electrolytes to make it to lunch.

Being north of thirty sucked.

Libby stormed across the sound stage, hand flexing around a pair of clamps sticking out of her cargo pocket. “Do I need to kill that asshole from last night? I’ll do it. No questions asked. Won’t even ask you to help me bury the body.” She squeezed the clamps menacingly for effect once more.

Cass managed a grim chuckle, then took a swig of her ginger tea. “Have I told you yet today how much I love you? I’ll fill you in later, but right now I’d like to wallow in mortification.”

“I had plans to go out with Stephen tonight, but I can bail on him, and we can eat chocolate and watch reruns of Gossip Girl.”

“Maybe, but don’t cancel on him yet. You’ll need more details to fill me in on Stibby 2.0 later.”

Libby looked nauseated, but that could have been the last of the alcohol seeping out of Cass’s pores just as much as the offensive moniker. “We are not calling us that.”

Cass hugged Libby’s waist gently enough not to jostle the contents of her own sensitive stomach. “Would you prefer Elizephen? Didn’t think so.”

“Seriously, though,” Libby said, “last night? Getting blitzed on your own? That’s not like you. Why didn’t you call me when that fuckwit didn’t show up?”

Because you were with Stephen and I don’t want you to have to choose who you’ll spend time with. Libby’s priorities would shift. She had a second chance at the love of her life. Cass wouldn’t get between Libby and Stephen making up for lost time.

If it meant dealing with the fallout of a humiliating brush-off alone, so be it.

The guy last night was callous, insensitive, and not worth anymore of her energy. In fact, none of these guys were. She’d been on weird dates, dull dates, and dates that had gone way too long. Dates that made her want to run for the hills, dates that had her wondering if she could play games on her phone under the table, and dates that were better suited for her friends.

Cass faked a smile. “I’m alive, and we’ll catch up soon, but for now I need to check Brynne’s suit fit.”

With one stop on the way.

Brynne and Josh stood in their usual huddle, and a discordant pang of jealousy picked at her. Brynne’s head popped up at Cass’s approach and she did a little twirl.

Every seam, every pleat, laid exactly as planned. Functional, but futuristic. And it even had a hidden bathroom zip. Brynne had cried in relief when she saw that there was no more being sewn into her suit for fourteen hours at a time and going into dehydration mode.

A furtive beat of pride flowed through her. She’d worked on the design for weeks, landing on Brynne’s final outfit first, then modelling Dawson’s male version after. It was what finally convinced Melanie and the studio to go with Cass’s more restrained vision for wardrobe.

“It’s perfect, as usual,” Brynne said, and Josh nodded appreciatively at the suit’s fit. At least, she hoped it was the fit he was appreciating and not Brynne’s lithe body.

Cass closed her eyes behind her sunglasses.

“Yeah, um, great. Can I have a minute with Josh?”

Brynne jumped to her feet, her perfect waves floating like gauze around her. Cass smothered a rogue spike of jealousy. Not like she needed to be standing beside a literal freaking movie star to feel any worse than her hangover already made her feel.

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