He shook his head at me, handing me a thick pink script and heading down the hall toward a pair of elevators.
“Ollie, I know you’re pissed—” I started.
“Why, Amelia?” he asked when we got on the elevator. “Of all the men in the world, why on earth would you go back to Noah Sloan? Weeks ago, you couldn’t even say his name without become enraged. You’re better than him, and I shouldn’t even have to say it because he proves it time and time again. The only thing you’ve ever gotten out of being in a relationship with him is pain. He is a mess, and he’ll drag you down with him—”
“I don’t need a lecture, Ollie! Especially when you don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no idea what it’s like to be him, and I’m not a child anymore. Who I do or do not date isn’t your business.”
“It is when it messes with your performance or your own reputation. The Amelia London I know would have never just disappeared for a whole day without even calling or at the very least apologizing.”
I couldn’t get out of the elevator fast enough and didn’t bother to wait for him as I moved toward the doors. Luckily, the excitement had died down since production had started, and no one was on the street anymore. Parked out front, right under the archway of the hotel, was a familiar black Escalade. The driver, dressed in a dark suit, held the door open for me when I stepped out.
“Amelia!” my mother called, waving at me with a bright smile on her face.
It felt like someone had punched me in the gut. All the air in my lungs left my body, and my heart started to pound as I—for a split second—thought of running. This morning, I was able to push her to the corner of my mind, and now here she was.
Oh no. No. Please, no.
“Beloved 15-year-old child star Skylar DeGray … was involved in a horrible accident.” The reporter’s voice haunted the back of my mind.
“Amelia? What’s wrong?”
Nothing happened. Act. Like. Nothing. Happened. It was simple enough, yet my chest burned just looking at her, the woman with the same round face and blue eyes as mine.
She repeated herself. “Ame—”
“Sorry! I’m just having a moment. What are you doing here?” I tried to recover, sliding into the leather seat beside her, noticing she was dressed in a silver floor-length dress and a sunhat. “Don’t you think your outfit is a bit much?” I asked.
“Always dress in an outfit you don’t mind dying in, sweetie. Now, you said you’re having a moment? What happened?”
“Ollie…never mind. So again, what are you doing here?” I leaned back, trying to remember how I usually acted around her. Most times I was annoyed and did my best not to show it. However there were times, as few and far between as they were, where I really thought she was a good mom.
I was wrong.
“Some moms got to drop their kids off at school. I’ve always enjoyed dropping you off at work...”
“Mom—” I tried to cut her off.
“Plus, I really want to talk to your director.”
“Mom, please, no!”
“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” she said.
I sighed, resting my head against the seat. “That you are a fan of his work, and then you are going to get flirty. You don’t have the best track records with directors. Besides, you told me to smack you if you ever tried to go out on date with another one.”
“I wasn’t being serious.”
“Mom.”
“Fine. Fine.” She threw up her hands in defeat before reaching over and grabbing hold of my hand, and it took all I had not to yank it away from her. “So how are you?” she asked.
Before I could answer, Ollie opened the front door to take his seat.
“Esther,” he said, nodding to her.
“Oh, Oliver, you’re here. Did you clear her schedule for this evening?” She asked him as if I wasn’t even there.
“I’m sorry. What’s happening this evening?” I asked.