Page 18 of Take 2
“Rafael Medina.”
There are not enough dolphins in all the oceans. Preston refers toDirector Rafael Medinaas Rafi.
“I really think he would be a great fit for you. I’d love to introduce you.”
The rainbow wheel spins in my brain as it buffers. I would love to meet Rafael Medina. He’s absolutely a dream director of mine.
“What’s the catch?” I close the book. My mind isn’t going back there anytime soon.
“The catch would be the flying part.”
“Where are you shooting?”
“Monaco.”
My jaw drops. “Like French Riviera Monaco?”
“That’s the one. We can fly out tomorrow evening and get there Saturday evening.”
“We … what?Tomorrow?”
“I’m trying to minimize the time for you to change your mind and say no.”
“I haven’t said yes!” And I should not. Right?
“Well, hurry up and do that. I don’t know how long the website will let me hold the seats.”
I fold myself over to lean my forehead on the towel. It hurts more than the stretch should, so there’s another reason to do freaking Pilates. “What’s in it for you?”
“I don’t have to travel alone. Maybe you can stop hating me. And there’s the shit about rising tides lift everyone and stuff, so your success is important to me.”
So full of shit. We’ve done an excellent job of avoiding each other for the past five years, aside from the first awards season when we were both nominated. Why is he ruining the beautiful thing we have going: the thing where we each pretend the other doesn’t exist? It’s my favorite.
My mind reels, and my heart races, and it’sRafael Medina, and Monaco must be beautiful, and— “Okay.” Did I actually agree?
“Great. Booking now.”
“First class. We’re not playing the falling asleep on each other’s shoulders shit.”
“Done.”
“I … um. Okay?” I scrape my fingers through my hair and pull the green scrunchie out.
“I’ll pick you up at noon.”
“Tomorrow?” I confirm.
“Yes.”
“To fly to France?”
“Yes. And it’s too late to cancel. Go pack.”He hangs up and leaves me gaping.
I … need to go pack.
Chapter Eight
“I’msorry,yourwordsare so nonsensical I don’t even have a joke to make about them. You’re what?” James’ voice comes through my AirPods as I pop around my bedroom.
