Her sobering words still swirl in my head when I tie a bathrobe over my costume and head to video village. When I enter, Canon, Evan, Kenneth and Jill are huddled around one laptop, all wearing heavy frowns. Four sets of eyes snap to me at the tent entrance.
“Neevah, hey,” Kenneth says, clearing his expression to smile at me. “You need something?”
“Uh, yeah.” I shove my hands into the deep pockets of my robe and force myself to focus on Kenneth and not look at Canon. “Could I talk to you for a second before this next scene?”
“Sure.” He heads toward me, and I turn before anyone else asks or says anything. I feel Canon’s stare on my back, and it’s the closest I’ve come to his touch since Sunday.
For the last two weekends, we’ve stolen Sundays together. A few days ago, we donned caps and sunglasses, and strolled along the Venice canals. The arching pedestrian bridges and glimmering canals lined with beach houses completely charmed me. We rented a small boat, touring the sights by water, and found a secluded space for a picnic. This time when he took me home, he came inside. We made love and napped and laughed and talked and ate again, scavenging for food in my fridge.
That idyllic day feels distant as Dr. Ansford’s warnings echo in my ears. Once outside the tent, I look up at Kenneth and try to put my emotions at ease. Canon says my face shows everything. Until I know what I’m dealing with, I want to keep this to myself.
“What’s up?” he asks, sliding a pencil behind his ear.
“I know it’s last minute, but I need to come in late tomorrow. I have a doctor’s appointment.”
“Is everything okay?” A frown puckers his salt-and-pepper brows. He’s not much older than Canon, his unlined brown skin a paradox to his hair, which is completely, prematurely white.
“Yeah. I have a rash that needs looking at. It’s something I’ve managed the last few years. Stress aggravates it, and I don’t want it to get any worse. Then we’d have to disguise it with a lot of makeup, which might make it even worse. It’s a whole thing. So I want to get ahead of it.”
“Ah. Makes sense.” He pulls a rolled-up script from his back pocket. I’ve rarely seen him without his copy and it’s almost falling apart by now, littered with notes for all of us in the margins. “Obviously, you’re in most of the scenes, but I’ll look at what we might be able to move around and shoot for a few hours with you gone. May be able to use your double for some shots.”
I ignore the guilt twisting my insides and nod. I don’t want to cause problems. There’s a part of me that wants to say never mind. I’ll work around the scheduleand squeeze the doctor in later, but I can’t forget Dr. Ansford’s grave expression.
“My appointment is scheduled for eight o’clock tomorrow morning. It’s the earliest they had. I’m sorry—”
“Neevah, we can’t afford to lose you for good.” He chuckles, because it doesn’t even occur to him that could happen. “So take care of it. We’ll figure it out.”
“Right.” I force a smile. “Thanks.”
I’m leaving a continuity check in wardrobe when I run into Canon, literally barreling into his chest as I round the corner.
“Sorry about that,” I mutter.
He steadies me, and we both look down at his hands wrapped around my arms. All I can think about is how he touched me Sunday, like he couldn’t believe I was real. Caressing me with reverence like he couldn’t believe I was his.
But I am.
I look up at him and school my expression into normal person face. “Hey.”
He doesn’t answer, but takes my hand and pulls me into the false alley again. Once we’re tucked away, shadowed, he leans against the wall and tugs me to stand between his legs. I toy with the buttons of his shirt and wait for him to make the next move in case the move I want to make is the wrong one.
“Kenneth says you have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I grimace. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a pain to shuffle the scenes, but I—”
“Hey.” He lifts my chin, cups my neck, and dips to hold my gaze in the barely lit space between the building facades. “We’ll figure that out. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
The chain tightened around my heart loosens at the concern evident in his eyes. And even though we’re on set with cords and wires snaking over the floors, cameras all around and even some above, the cast and crew scurrying to prepare for the next scenes, the intimacy of his touch takes me back to my bed, the sheets rumpled by our passion. I put one hand over his caressing my neck.
“I’m fine. I just need to check into that rash.”
He’s seen me naked, obviously, and knows about the rash. It’s still in just a few patches, though, so I’m hoping to keep it that way.
“Oh, yeah. That’s good.” He bends and brushes our lips together. “I miss you.”
I take his bottom lip between mine, nodding and resting my elbows on his powerful shoulders. “Same.”
“One month.” His hands skate down my sides, mold to my waist, and settle low on my hips. “After Santa Barbara, we’ll only have a month left.”
“Like you don’t immediately go into edit mode and all the post-production stuff once we wrap.”
“I do, but it’s a different level of concentration. We can—”
“Places!”
It comes from the real world just beyond our hiding place. Canon drops his forehead to mine and dusts kisses over my temple, my cheek, and finally, places one on my mouth. It’s a possessive kiss fraught with longing and promise and hunger. I lean into it, answer it, open under it, inviting him in, but there’s no time. There’s never any time anymore. A flurry of footsteps freezes us both as everyone scrambles to get in place for the next scene. Canon blows out a resigned sigh, and then he’s gone.