“With Harlow and her agent,” Mark answers, rising from his seat. “I think it’s in your best interest,” he adds and motions toward the door.
Chapter 16
Harlow
* * *
“Do you think I’m going to be fired?” I ask Lydia as I take in a deep breath and try to keep myself from getting sick. I’ve barely seen her this last week. Moving out of her dressing room and into mine changed our dynamic … as did me getting the lead.
“Because you fucked your ex?” Lydia asks, cocking a brow like I’m ridiculous. Her dressing room is completely different from when I last saw it. I think she’s spent more time shopping than she has on the set. Which makes sense since her scenes are finished and she doesn’t have anything else to do.
She moves a bag from Neiman Marcus off the bed and sets it down on the floor, rummaging through it. “Sweetheart, if they fired everyone who slept together, there would be no one left to cast,” she says jokingly and then looks up at me. “You’re fine,” she reassures me when she takes in my still-worried expression.
“It’s a PR meeting, love. Everyone has them. You’re going to be fine,” she tells me again as she stands up with a small box in her hand. “I got you something,” she says sweetly, barely containing a smile and holding out her hand.
“It’s for you, take it,” she says, shaking the small box.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” I tell her as the box falls into my palm. It’s heavier than I thought it would be from the size of it. It’s only a few inches wide and tall.
“Yes I did, crazy pants!” Lydia says and pulls her long hair up into a ponytail, but then lets it fall. “You got the freaking lead, so I should be throwing you a parade.”
I let out a huff of a laugh and slowly unwrap the thick, pearly white wrapping. The box under the paper is simple. Nothing fancy, and it opens easily.
“It’s nothing big really,” Lydia says as I pull whatever it is out of the box. Her fingers fidget around the hem of her dress. “Just a trinket.”
I flinch as a piece of it seems to pop off, and then stare at a heavy painted petal in my hand. It’s a pale pink with gold around its edges and a stripe of white that fades in the center.
“Don’t worry, they’re magnetic,” Lydia says quickly and takes the box from me, pouring it out and letting an owl-shaped bauble sit in my lap. It’s colorful, decorated in shades of blue and gray with bright blue eyes.
“He has your eyes, huh?” she says and it makes me laugh. I answer her, “I guess so.”
She picks up the owl and slips the petal back into place, blending it into the sculpture.
“Oh,” I gasp and then realize that’s what the owl is made up of, beautiful petals and flowers. Each edge gilded with gold and fitting perfectly next to each other. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper, our fingers brushing as she hands it back to me.
“It was in Cosmo’s unexpected gift ideas feature this month and the second I saw it, I thought of you.”
“Because of the blue eyes?” I ask her jokingly.
“Because when it’s not together, it looks like scattered petals that have fallen apart, but really when it’s all put together, it’s so beautiful and something you wouldn’t have imagined.”
Her answer stuns me, making all of my emotions come back tenfold. I am in love with this owl. Everything about it. At the same time, I wish I had something to give her in return.
“Thank you,” I tell her and wrap my arms around her even though I’m still sitting down.
Lydia shrugs, straightening herself and downplaying how sweet her gesture is. “My credit card was burning a hole in my pocket,” she says and winks.
“I owe you big time,” I answer her, gathering the pieces and putting them back in the box.
“Remember me when you’re famous, will ya?” she asks me and it makes me laugh. A real laugh that shakes my shoulders.
“It’s good to see you smile again,” Lydia says softly and her expression changes, with nothing but sincerity on her face.
“You love him?” she asks me gently at the same time her phone goes off. An annoyed look replaces the soft smile as she silences it. “I was worried at first,” she tells me, slipping the phone into her pocket and then looking back at me. “But now I get it.”
I don’t answer her, not trusting that I can even form a coherent sentence. It’s amazing what just one person whose understanding and support you have feels like. How much weight is lifted.
“I have to go, but I don’t want to leave you,” she says with a guilty tone in her voice.