Page 32 of The Fake Script

She wrinkles her nose. “Ugh. Yeah, I can imagine. Glad we’re on the same page. Oh, and no talking about the past, either. It was a long time ago, we were kids, and it was nothing. Let’s just focus on the task at hand, okay?”

“Yeah, I can do that.” I think. I doubt I’ll ever manage to stop thinking about it, though. I haven’t been able to curb those memories for ten years. That’s not magically going to stop now, especially since she’s back in my life, looking like a ghost of her teenage self.

We drive for a while until we reach the street leading to the party, and it’s pure mayhem. The traffic is bumper-to-bumper, and the sidewalks are packed with people. Pedestrians cross in front of us without looking, trying to get closer to the event.

“I’m sorry you have to drive in this nightmare,” Emma says, pressing her lips together.

“It’s fine. I’m managing.” I grin, keeping both hands on the wheel. As if I wouldn’t doanythingfor her. “Robyn is waiting for us at the red carpet. She’ll take the car and park it somewhere close so we can walk to it later tonight.”

My senses remain on high alert, and after a while, the traffic clears, and we reach the red carpet. I get out first, telling Emma to stay inside before I walk around the car. Robyn and Cillian are already here, waiting for us.

“Here are the keys,” I say, handing them to Robyn before opening the passenger door for Emma.

She takes my hand, and I draw a quick breath. How on earth am I going to fake it with her? She’s everything I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve dreamed of. None of this is fake, at least not for me. All I want is to break down those walls she’s built around herself, because I remember how it felt being on the other side of them.

“Are you okay, lad?” Cillian slaps a hand on my back, and I realize I’ve just been standing here, staring at Emma like an idiot.

I clear my throat. “I am, yes. Let’s go.”

Emma and I walk side by side to the red carpet, and I put on my entertainer smile.

“Should I let you take a couple shots alone?” Emma asks when we approach the photo area.

“That’s not necessary. Let’s just get our picture taken together, and we’ll go inside.”

I lead her to the dedicated space, and we turn to face the photographers. Everyone is yelling my name, and the air is stuffy thanks to the huge spotlights they’ve installed at every angle. Pulling myself into focus, I place an arm behind Emma’s back, and we smile at the cameras. If she’s stressed or feels out of place, she doesn’t show it. This woman is the picture of poise and elegance, offering a relaxed smile. It’s like she’s done this her entire life. And for the first time, this part of myjob doesn’t feel so stifling or forced. For once, I think I could actually enjoy it.

14

Introverted Extrovert

Emma

To say I’m uncomfortable would be an understatement. The room is packed with elegant people wearing expensive clothes and eating gourmet food beneath a chandelier that might or might not be dripping in gold.

Sure, there are giant flamingos, palm trees, and colorful flowers that fit the tropical theme. But this party is way too classy and grown-up for me.

Far from the comfy reading nook I love so much—especially now that the cowboy romance I picked up has broken me out of my reading slump. Who knew a lighter read could do that?

Auston, on the other hand, is a natural. He was flashing his perfect smile and waving at the red-carpet photographers like it was any other Tuesday. Not that I was looking at him much. I was too busy focusing on the camera flashes, hoping they’d blind me so I wouldn’t fall under Auston’s spell like everyone else.

Because yes, all the women in this place have been enchanted by Auston’s charm. No matter their age.

“Auston, darling,” an old lady with a long floral dress and a large hat says, gliding toward us. “Thank you for coming.”

Case in point.

He kisses her hand softly. “Edith, you look lovely as always. Thank you for inviting me.”

“And who is this gorgeous flower next to you?” she asks, analyzing me over her cat-eye spectacles.

“This is Emma, my girlfriend.” He places his hand on the small of my back, and the contact may have just burned a hole through my dress. It's the temperature. They probably cranked up the heat or something. The theme is tropical, after all.

Auston turns to me. “Emma, this is Edith Wright, Creative Director of Lucacci.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say, forcing a smile.

“You look absolutely divine.” Her eyes flit to Auston. “Where have you been hiding her?” Taking my hand, she forces me to spin.

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