Mae looked at Callie in amazement. What the hell was she going to do now?
Eighteen
Now
Sam was now officially crazy late.
The crew had gone from brisk efficiency to restless loitering. Someone was fiddling endlessly with a lens. Someone else was pretending to check emails, but clearly scrolling through Instagram models.
Neil kept looking at his watch. ‘We’re really off schedule now,’ he muttered to no one in particular, pacing a tight loop between the door and the counter.
‘Very on brand for Sam,’ Isabella said as she organised her brushes. ‘He once held up a shoot for an hour because he felt he wasn’t “moisturised correctly”.’
Neil gave her a look that said,Don’t talk shit about the talent.She ignored it. She was too busy watching Callie.
Callie kept her expression bland. No one was going to see how she felt about Mae’s roasting of her arse on camera, nor of Mae’s rejection of Callie’s plea for an amnesty. Not evenCalliewas going to know how she felt about it. She’d shut herself down like a laptop.
Through the small rectangular window in the swing door, she could see flashes of the kitchen. A forearm, the side of a face, the curve of a shoulder, as Mae moved about her business. The glass blurred the details, but not enough.
Though Callie was doing a great job of putting herself in an emotional coma, every time Mae drifted into view, Callie felt her lungs tighten.
Isabella appeared at her elbow.
‘If you keep looking,’ she said in a low voice, ‘she’s gonna spot you.’
Callie tore her gaze away.
‘I was looking at the…’ she began, but couldn’t think of one reason she’d need to be looking at that door. ‘Oh, shut up.’
Isabella grinned.
Callie gave her a flat look. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be making me beautiful?’
‘I already did,’ Isabella said. ‘Twice. You’re in a holding pattern.’ Her eyes softened just a fraction. ‘You all right?’
‘I’m fine,’ Callie said automatically.
One perfect eyebrow went up.
‘I think she hates me,’ Callie admitted quietly. It surprised her, hearing the words out loud.
‘If she hated you, she wouldn’t have let us in here.’
‘She was probably paid well,’ Callie said.
Isabella’s gaze went to the window. ‘She looked hurt to me,’ she said simply.
The words landed a little too deeply.
‘It was a long time ago,’ Callie said. ‘She’s had years to… I don’t know. Move on. Forget.’
‘So have you,’ Isabella said. ‘And yet here you are, back here, watching her through a tiny pane of glass.’
Callie almost smiled despite herself. ‘Do youeverstop?’
‘Not when I’m bored.’ Isabella tilted her head, considering. ‘Do you wish youweren’there?’
The question took Callie off guard.
