Page 126 of Imogen

Which means, if they know, it won’t be long before Evan finds out. One side of me wants to get it over and done with, but then the other, the part that looks up to him, doesn’t want to let him down. By breaking my promise, I already let myself down. I can’t find it in me to be sorry for it though. She’s worth it. Us together are worth it. Acting like I’m ashamed of my choices would be like telling her I’m ashamed of her, and I’m not.

I head back out, locking up behind me, and make my way back to the marquee they have set up in a large open space. Green screens have been placed on all the windows they have, and Sabrina explained it will show fields or greenery. The out of the marquee scene won’t be shot until they travel out to a location they have set up to do it.

It takes me five minutes to get there, and when I do, Imogen is where I left her, surrounded by snacks of all kinds. One of the producers’ assistants had been getting annoyed with her going up to the snack table every five minutes and sarcastically asked if she would like a selection brought over. Imogen, knowing she was being sarcastic, pasted on a smile and profusely thanked her for being so considerate. Within ten minutes, they had a few side tables set out next to her with snacks.

She’s chomping on popcorn as the producer yells cut and orders the cast and extras to take five minutes.

“Dude, you misseda lot,” she calls out. “That guy just told his son’s girlfriend to meet him in the bathroom. They’re having an affair. And I’m pretty sure he’s about to kick some extras off set.”

I lean over and capture her lips in a kiss. It feels good not to hold back. Being so free with her makes me realise we need to tell her dad when we get back. Because there is a high chance I will fuck up and kiss her in front of everyone out of habit.

“Having fun?” I tease.

“Totally. It’s all going to blow up because his wife is also having an affair—with his son from a previous marriage. The dad’s mum is drunk and has already figured it out. She’s just deciding whether or not to reveal it all. She hates Sabrina. But Sabrina has already said, if you tell him my secret, then I’m going to tell his son who his dad is fucking behind their back.”

“Do they really have an argument if they’re both cheating?”

“Sabrina’s is new and she did it for revenge. The son isn’t into her like that. But she’s blackmailing him and saying she’s carrying his child,” she reveals, all giddy. “I cannot wait for this to play out.”

Sabrina makes her way over, slowly dropping herself down in the chair, and pushes the white shawl off her shoulders. It’s hiding the bump perfectly on screen. It’s amazing how they did it. The one scene where she had it off, she was standing behind a table, and the flower décor on top was hiding her small bump. “These shoes are killing me,” she groans.

“What size are they?” Imogen asks. She tries to ask innocently, but I know her obsession with shoes.

“Five,” she answers.

Imogen’s eyes glaze over. “Do they let you keep them?”

“Sometimes, why?” Sabrina questions, watching her closely.

“Immy,” I call, grinning. “You can’t steal the shoes.”

She pouts. “But they’re so pretty,” she teases, nuzzling my nose before kissing me. She pulls back to look to Sabrina. “I’m normally a boot girl, but those shoes are something I would kill for. No lie.”

“If you’ll be an extra for thirty minutes, I’ll give you the damn shoes,” Neil, the producer, snaps. “Fucking idiots are wasting my time by looking into the camera.”

“I’ll get the shoes?” Imogen asks.

“Yes, and I’ll even give you the dress you wear if you say yes now.”

“I’m in.”

“The man too. I need a couple slow dancing who actually look like they love each other instead of two people awkwardly looking elsewhere,” he demands, then clicks his fingers. “Sandra, get the girl dressed up. Then grab him a suit.”

“No,” I reply as he walks off.

Imogen bounces in her chair, turning to me. “Come on. It will be so much fun.”

“No.”

“What if I offered you the sex I had planned for last night? Whipped cream and chocolate,” she sings.

I lean in close. “You’re a bad, bad girl, Imogen Smith.”

She grins. “And you like it.”

She presses a kiss to my lips before following Sandra to a dressing room. When a guy holding a suit stands in front of me, I know I need to follow. There is no way I’m letting another guy dance with her.

“Have fun,” Sabrina muses.

---