“It’s not the bread,” he said. “It’s the movie.”
She froze. “The movie.”
“Yeah, they’re going to be filming in the café here and there.”
“Marion mentioned that…” Ramona said, but trailed off as details about the actual story ofAs If You Didn’t Knowflitted through her mind. She’d read the book, of course, and knew Dylan was playing Eloise, but other than a fake dating plot in a small town, she couldn’t remember much else. But now…
“There’s a character who’s a waitress,” Owen said.
Ramona stopped breathing.
“Eloise?” Owen said as he wiped down the stainless steel counter behind the espresso machine. “Is that her name?”
Ramona’s mouth dropped open to answer, but she couldn’t get out the word, theyes, and she was pretty sure her heart was slowing down or speeding up, she couldn’t exactly tell, but something was happening in the center of her chest and—
“Anyway, in addition to some scenes shot here in the café, the actor who’s playing the waitress wants some hands-on experience,” Owen went on. “Jack Monroe’s kid—god, I love Evenflow. You think he’ll come by the set?” He had a dreamy look in his eyes. He actually sighed before shaking his head. “His daughter wants to do method acting or something, I don’t know. But the studio is forking over enough money to hire that in-house baker you want so badly, and you’re a great trainer, so—”
“No,” Ramona said.
Owen’s brows went up. “No?”
“I just…I’m sorry, Owen, I don’t think I can—”
But right then, a swollen hush fell over the dining room as the bell over the door trilled, a harbinger of doom, and Ramona felt her blood freeze—surge, dry up,something—as she sensed everyone’s eyes lock onto whoever just walked inside.
Ramona’s back was to the door, but she swore to god, she couldfeelit—an energy she hadn’t experienced in eighteen years, but that still seemed familiar, fresh and wild and free.
“Hi, everyone,” a husky voice said. “Don’t stop eating on my account. That looks delicious.”
The diners laughed, then started talking again. Ramona saw a few patrons get up, phones at the ready for pictures, but Owen rushed to the door, asking everyone to give Dylan some room.
Dylan.
GiveDylansome room.
Ramona couldn’t seem to make herself turn around. Not yet. Of course, she’d known for three weeks that Dylan Monroe was playing Eloise. And she knew that they were going to film some scenes in Clover Moon, but none of that really clicked until this moment. Ramona hadn’t thought she’d even see Dylan—why would she? If filming was happening in the café, the studio would bring in trained extras for the patrons, for the other servers, wouldn’t they? She had no clue how movies worked on that end, had only ever been interested in costuming, but Ramona never imagined she’d be here, at her place of work, about to help Dylan Monroe serve coffee and french fries.
“Ramona?” Owen said from behind her. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Ramona counted to three. Then she took a deep breath and turned around, eyes locking with the ice-green gaze of the first person she’d ever kissed.
For a second, the world slowed down, just a blip of a moment asshe and Dylan looked at each other, a small smile settling on Dylan’s lovely mouth, her head tilted just a little, those nearly transparent eyes narrowing as though she were trying to place Ramona.
Ramona, for her part, had completely stopped breathing, because goddammit, Dylan was gorgeous. Ramona had seen her only through screens for eighteen years, but she still recognized the girl she’d met at the lakeshore on that Fourth of July all those years ago. Her limbs weren’t as gangly, of course, and she looked a little less haunted than she had as a thirteen-year-old, the hollows in her cheeks filled out, full of health and radiance now, but it was her. Those eyes…that perfect rosebud mouth. The mouth that had smiled and laughed and made Ramona smile and laugh when she hadn’t thought she’d ever smile or laugh again. The mouth that had trembled just a little when Dylan had put her hands on Ramona’s waist and leaned in, her breath catching just before she—
“Hi,” Dylan said, sticking out her hand. “I’m Dylan.”
Her tone was so professional, so staid and even rehearsed, Ramona couldn’t help but blink in confusion.
“I know,” she said, slipping her hand into Dylan’s and waiting for the light of recognition to flare in Dylan’s eyes.
And waited…and waited.
Dylan’s brows creased, and she released a tiny laugh as the moment stretched on.
Owen cleared his throat, patted Ramona on the shoulder. “This is my best server, Ramona. Makes a pretty mean honey whiskey pie too.”
“Is that so?” Dylan said politely. So, so politely. “I’ll have to try that.”
