Page 43 of Steamy on Set

He nods once in resignation, and even though this is what he wanted, I can see it taking its toll on him. I will be able to recover from this and move on, but I don’t know if he will.

I watch him go down the stairs and head to his car. I’m relieved to finally have the closure I’ve been searching for. When he finally gets in and drives away, I close the door on that chapter of my life.

An hour after Christian is gone, my phone rings. Lost in the daze of my depleted emotions, I answer it without looking.

Hoping it’s Monty, I mentally prepare myself to explain everything that happened. With a deep breath in, I settle my nerves a little, getting ready for the talk.

“Hey.”

It’s Errol. I sit up a little straighter, as if he can see me, smoothing down the edges of my hair.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

My mind races with all the possibilities of why he would call, quickly narrowing it down to one. Having made a scene the night before in front of the producers, the obvious conclusion is that he’s firing me. Calling to let me know there was no need to return to film, he is giving me the courtesy of not doing it in front of everyone. Resting against my headboard, I wait for the words to come.

“No, nothing is wrong. I was just calling to check on you.” Sincere concern laces through the sentence, tying it up in a considerate bow.

I lift my head shocked, looking for the loophole.

“Oh.” I bite down onto my bottom lip.

“Look, you don’t have to tell me what is going on or anything, but you were clearly upset, so I just wanted to make sure you were okay today.”

Pulling my legs up to my chest, I hug them as I press the phone closer to my ear. Fighting the tears as they push against my eyelids, I exhale into the line.

“I’m okay.” Stuck somewhere between a truth and a lie, I give him the answer he most likely wants to hear.

“You don’t sound okay.” Pushing past the customary response, he digs deeper into the emotion behind the words.

“No, I don’t, and I probably won’t for awhile. But I’m actually okay.”

Or at least I will be. Trust won’t come as easy, but I have to let go of the anger. Just like I’ve let go of all that Christian and I could have been.

“Okay, good.”

The line goes quiet, and I wonder if he is going to end it there. For some reason, I don’t want to hang up. Despite the fact that we were screaming in each others faces a week ago, we have now come to a truce that borders on friendship. I mean, he did stand up for me last night, and now he’s calling.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask, needing to confirm this is a friendly call. “It’s okay if you are. I know I fucked up.”

He sighs, and it comes through the phone so strongly I feel as if his breath is on my cheek. Pressing into it, I sort of wish it was.

“I’m not mad. I get it, stuff happens. After I got you home, I went back and made up excuses, and everyone seemed okay. So no harm, no foul.”

I swear I can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “Some people actually thought you were method acting, playing up the role as Fiona. So it even won you some points.”

I smile too, imagining people thinking I’m that good of an actress.

“They still approve of you, so it all went as planned.”

“Okay, good.” The tension eases out of my muscles, allowing me to slouch. I expect him to say goodbye, but as he lingers on the line, I take that as my opening to continue the call.

“How was your day?” I ask.

He sounds surprised, as he answers his voice light.

“Why? Looking to critique how I spend my personal time?”

“It’s probably filled with inappropriate behaviors and annoying tendencies.”

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