Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 729(@200wpm)___ 583(@250wpm)___ 486(@300wpm)
“Oh, so you noticed that.”
“And you, um…” She looks down at the ground. “I saw you dancing with Livvie. I’m not surprised.”
“Why do you say that?”
She casts her eyes up to the stars, exasperation in the face she makes. “God, men are so oblivious sometimes. Livvie has a thing for you.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
“Uh, yeah, she does. Every time they yell ‘cut,’ she manages to find you if you’re on set that day.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was jealous, but I do know better. Verity’s never been that type.
“I hadn’t noticed,” I say.
“Exactly.” Verity chafes her arms against the cool night air. “Oblivious.”
“You cold? Take my coat.” I remove the tuxedo jacket and drape it around her shoulders. She doesn’t object, pulling the lapels closed at her throat as the countdown from the party reaches us.
Ten, nine, eight…
“It’s almost a new year,” Verity whispers, stepping closer and looking up at me. I reach beneath my coat to spread my hands over her back and down to cup her ass. She tips up and leaves kisses along my jaw with each descending number.
“Three.”
Kiss.
“Two.”
Kiss.
“One.”
“Happy New Year!”
The chorus of well-wishes blends with the first notes of “Auld Lang Syne.”
“Happy New Year, Monk,” Verity breathes across my lips.
“Happy New Year, Vee.” I dip and close the gap between our mouths, and the kiss is hot and bright, rivaling the spray of light illuminating the night sky as the pyrotechnics explode in the distance. My hands tighten at her waist, and I want to hold on to her and to this moment as long as I possibly can.
“We’re missing the fireworks,” Verity says, smiling into our kiss. We sway in each other’s arms to the refrain of a new year, the sound of a fresh start.
I shake my head and cup her face, leaning in for another kiss.
“No, we’re not.”
FORTY-ONE
Verity
“Neevah!”
I quicken my steps to catch the actress who has the whole cast and crew buzzing about her fantastic performance as Dessi Blue. She’s beautiful, but also incredibly kind and considerate. Not a diva bone in her body. I totally get why Canon likes her so much, but I also understand why he might be hesitant to pursue anything with her before we wrap.
“Hey, Verity,” she says, pausing so I can draw even with her. “What’s up?”
“I just wanted to thank you for the cookies you baked at Christmas. I know that was weeks ago, but I haven’t been on set as much since we got back from break.”
“Oh, you’re welcome. I was wondering the other day where you’ve been.”
“The script is locked, and Canon hasn’t needed as much from me for this section of the shoot.”
Without the heavy makeup she wears as Dessi, the shadows painted under Neevah’s eyes by fatigue and fine lines around her mouth, which I don’t remember before Christmas, are more apparent.
“You okay?” I ask, keeping my voice even and low, but rushing on to reassure her. “You just look a little tired, and I know this has all been super-demanding.”
“It’s a lot, yeah.” She blows out a breath. “I’m fine, though. Just a little worn down, I guess.”
“And with good reason. You’ve really come through, girl. The choreography alone. You should get a medal, if only for not strangling Lucia.”
Neevah’s smile comes easily, and her laugh rings out like a bell. “She would say the same about me. We both had plenty of opportunity to strangle each other, but yeah. I’m glad the dance numbers are behind us. Now if I can survive Monk. I have some singing to do when we’re in Santa Barbara. You’re going with us, right?”
I discipline my expression at her mention of Monk, and keep pace when she resumes walking. “I’m going, yeah. They don’t call Santa Barbara the American Riviera for nothing. Whoever suggested that deserves a raise.”
“I agree,” Neevah says with a grin. She stops and faces me. “I’ve been meaning to tell you what a terrific job you did adding in Tilda and all the stuff we found at Dessi’s house in Alabama. There are so many things you slip into this script that make me realize how much of our history I was never taught.”
“I hope a lot of folks learn things, and about people they never heard of, but should have. Dessi, Gladys, Hazel, Slim Gaillard.”
“Neevah, thank God!” Livvie says, rushing up to join us.
“Hey, girl.” Neevah smiles at the other actress. “Why you running?”
“Thought I was late.” Livvie blows out a harried breath. “But I know if you aren’t at the production meeting yet, then I’m good. I got distracted. Monk was playing the piano in the Savoy. I’m convinced he could get me across the finish line just by playing a song.”
They giggle and I force my lips into something like a smile, but that same rusty screw in my chest when Livvie danced with Monk on New Year’s Eve tightens and turns. I can’t blame her. He’s amazing, but I want to tell her she should get over it because he’s with me, even though I have no right.