Page 4 of Out of the Gold

He nods and starts to do a few yoga poses, getting used to moving in the costume. I focus on his whole body at first, then zero in on his legs to make sure the Manipul8 Stitches are holding. Everything looks good. Although . . . an unusual bump has formed around his knee.

With a furrowed brow, I watch Chase go through several standing poses, but the bump grows. “Stop for a sec. I think something’s wrong by your right knee.”

Face turned downward, he bends both of his knees. I walk to him and run my hand over the back of his leg and knee, feeling an air bubble. Relief streams through me. “It’s only air. Take off your boot and let me see what I can do about it.”

“Really? You couldn’t have caught this before?” He plops down into the chair—if another issue with his costume existed, it would appear afterthistantrum—and rips off his boot and sock.

Placing my hands on my hips, I stare at him with disgust. “It looked fine before. Now stand up.”

He does and I run my hand down his leg, starting mid-thigh. Ah. Here’s where it started. I work the air out of the costume to the background music of Chase’s annoyed noises. Whatever.

“There. It’s all fixed now.”

“Better be.” He sits down and puts his footwear back on. A knock on the trailer door grabs both of our attention. Chase slips on the gloves, which I turn to check their fit. Giving him the all clear, he yells, “Come on in!”

His co-star and love interest in the movie, Jessa Mendes, bounds into the trailer. “Chasey, darling, are you almost . . . Before she can finish her sentence, he stands. “Christ. You look hot enough to eat in that suit.” She licks her lips and I turn my head so they can’t see my repulsed expression. Not that they’d care. And why do I?

She approaches him, placing her hand on the “8” over his heart. “Holy Moly, Chasey. You look every inch a superhero. More so than ever before.”

The two talk in low murmurs, and I head toward my three-tiered design suitcase, snagging another bottle of spring water along the way. My job here is done, until filming is over today. Tossing my scissors and sewing supplies into the top compartment, I close everything up.

In spite of Chase, I’m proud of the work I did in here today. Two more weeks of this, maybe less, and I’ll be free of him. The delight welling up in me for executing Judith’s design can’t be dampened by his behavior.

Finishing up the bottle, I toss it into recycling and roll my suitcase under the table for later, then pick up my essentials tote. Passing them, I say, “I’ll let the director know you’re ready, Chase.”

His gloved hand clamps around my wrist. “I think the costume will do.”

At the contact, a tremor ripples up my arm. What the hell? My gaze drops to his glove and travels up to his blue eyes. I dip my head in acknowledgment.

When he releases me, I ignore the odd disappointment in my chest and leave the two actors. Free of the trailer, I inhale the fresh, beautiful Amalfi air. Well, to be fair, we’re located somewhere above Amalfi, looking down on the TyrrhenianSea. The tiny village with quaint storefronts and lots of open land is perfect for this part of the movie.

I pluck my sunglasses out of my essentials tote—needles, thread, scissors, stitching tape, and other doodads at the ready. Let’s hope I don’t need any of them for today’s filming. Or ever.

As I head toward the set, my cell phone rings. Digging into the tote, I grab the phone and a smile crosses my face. “Daddy!”

“Hey, Princess. How’s the Italian coast treating my baby?”

Even though we’re not Facetiming, I do a three-sixty. “It’s gorgeous here. I mean, I loved Florence and Rome, but the Amalfi Coast is sort of magical.”

“I know what you mean.” After pleasantries, he says, “I got some news.”

I quirk my eyebrow. “What’s up”

“We’re making great strides on the movie about Hunte. Since Hollywood releasedBohemian RhapsodyandRocketman, everyone’s saying it’s perfect timing. We’ve already started auditions for actors to play us.” He chuckles. “Can you believe several actors want to play me?”

I turn and head toward the set. “I’m sure a lot of guys wish they couldbeyou, rather than simply get the role.”

“You’re too good for my ego. Your mother doesn’t say such nice things to me.” He grunts. “Ouch! That woman hit me!”

I laugh at their antics. Married for nearly a quarter of a century, every time I see them, they are more in love than before. “I’m happy for you.”

Chase and Jessa pass by me on their way to the set. Guess they didn’t need me to let the director Ned Nobleman—whom everyone calls Noble—know he was ready. I slow my steps.

“And I want to be happy for you, too, Princess. How would you like to be theleadcostume designer for the movie?”

My feet stop moving as if they were immersed in cement. My head shakes from side to side.

When I don’t respond, he asks, “What do you think?”

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