Page 93 of Lights, Camera, Love

‘But I don’t want to live trapped in the past.’ I try to hold eye contact, but his face is blurred by the tears onmy eyelashes. ‘I believe that people make mistakes and that they can learn from them and do better. I don’t want to push you away just because I’m scared of getting hurt again, and I want to see the good in you, not the bad. But if you want to earn my trust, if you want to earn a place in my life, I … I need to protect myself and set some boundaries.’

Gabriel nods, a pained look tensing his face.

I hold up a shaking finger. ‘You getonechance,’ I say, slowly and clearly, so there can be no mistaking me. ‘This door is only going to be open once. If you turn your back on me again; if you make me feel like I don’t matter to you? The door will close. And it will never open again. Do you understand?’

His lips quiver as he nods, and I feel a small, cautious, utterly disbelieving smile tug at my mouth, despite my tears.

A noise that sounds like trapped emotion escapes his throat. He steps forward and wraps his solid arms around me, a waft of designer cologne engulfing my nose as I stiffly rest my palms on his back. After a few breathless heartbeats, I begin to relax against him, and for the first time in my life, I let myself believe it. I let myself believe that my father genuinely cares about me.

We break apart, and he swipes the skin beneath his eyes with his knuckles. Over his shoulder, I spot two women in hot-pink yoga pants powerwalking in our direction.

‘When are you going back to LA?’ I ask, still sounding choked. I take hold of Gabriel’s elbow to turn him away from the women’s view.

His rough hand gives mine a couple of pats. ‘That depends on you, Evie. Of course, I need to get back to Harper before long, but I’d sure like to try a meal with you again before I go, if you would let me. Or a walk, a coffee … whatever you like.’ In a small, nervous, almost childlike voice, he adds, ‘Do you have time?’

Hearing him ask me this, and with so much uncertainty in his tone, leaves me in a daze.

‘How about … how about lunch tomorrow?’ I finally manage. ‘At my place.’

He’ll be in for a rude shock at how small and unimpressive my apartment is, but that’s me, that’s my life. If he truly wants to know me, he can start there.

Gabriel’s eyes spark beneath his heavy brows. ‘I’d sure like that.’

After I’ve given him my address and assured him it’ll only be the two of us—I don’t want to start an international incident by reuniting him with Mum just yet—I mutter a stunned goodbye and turn to head inside the studio.

‘Oh, and Evie?’ my father blurts as I go.

I stop. ‘Yes?’

‘I also want to talk to you about this movie you’ve been working on with Village Pictures. I think I can help.’

‘Really?’ I’ll take any drop of good news aboutMoving, even if it’s from Gabriel Dean.

He tilts his head. ‘You know, your boyfriend came to see me.’

A warm sensation spreads through my chest, followed by a sharp jab. ‘He’s not my boyfriend. And yeah, he told me.’

Kye called me yesterday, full of remorse and apologies about bombarding my father on his film set, but truthfully, I didn’t mind. He knows what it’s like to feel rejected by a parent, and I get that this makes him overprotective. I’ve also never had anyone stand up for me like that before, other than my mum, and I won’t lie; I kind of loved how it felt.

Thinking about Kye resurrects the memories that haunt the walls of my heart. He’s become distant ever since he visited his brother, and I still have no idea if Austin has confessed his feelings to him. Yesterday, on the phone, Kye said that he wants to see me—that he misses me—and his voice had a husky, affectionate tinge. But he didn’t say when.

There’s a terrible feeling swimming through my gut that I can’t shake.

Something’s wrong.

‘If I’m honest, he was a little rude and very direct, given we don’t know each other,’ Gabriel says, jerking me out of my thoughts. The irked expression on my father’s face could only be inspired by one person.

I can’t help but let out a little snort. ‘Yeah, that’s Groucho.’

The next day, my father delivers the good news over chicken stir-fry on my tiny balcony while my mum is on shift: Buzz has been let go over ‘creative differences’. I’m sure Martina can’t wait to chat about it—she’s been trying to reach me.

Gabriel pulled some strings with a friend of his, the Australian director Olivia Floros, to get her to take over the project. He believes she is the ideal match forMoving. We may have to shoot a few extra scenes here and there, but Olivia says she’ll make most of her changes in the edit suite, and Gabriel seems to think she’ll nail it.

By the time Thursday rolls around, my father has made two more visits to my place before flying back to LA to be with his pregnant fiancée. Still shell-shocked over having spent time with him, I gladly lose myself in the music and movement of my hip-hop class.

‘Now, toe, heel, toe, heel, pivot backwards!’ I call out to my regulars through the mirror. ‘Lift and drop that right foot down—haha, you guys are rocking it. Now, shimmy backwards and glide it. Put a little body-roll into it if you like!’

Grinning, I drop into a body-wave, then spin on my sneaker heels. I turn to face the back of the room, andboom—right on the beat, my gaze smashes into Kye’s. Every vertebra in my spine seizes up.

---