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Twisted Reality (Blind Reality 2)

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Laughing, Josh pulls me closer. “You know, Barry has been hounding me about doing a show with us. He wants to follow us around.”

“I’m boring. I spend most of my days in the hotel room.”

“He’s a producer, he’d incite drama into our lives and have us fighting over the thread count on our sheets.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s TV and people at home eat that shit up because it makes us look normal.”

“We are normal,” I remind him as we continue to sway to the music.

“He’d pay us.”

“It’s intrusive. We have nothing to show them. Besides, you’re working and if I’m not allowed on set, they wouldn’t be either so it would be me on the camera all the time. I already did that once in my life.”

Josh spins me around, causing me to laugh. “I told him we’d think about it after we got back to Los Angeles.”

I look at him questioningly. “What’s the difference?”

“We’ll have a house. Our lives will be more normal than they are now. And that gives you time to think about it.”

Before I can answer, our dinner arrives and we head back to our table. Even as I take the first bite, my stomach rolls. I don’t want to do another show, but Josh seems eager to do it and that scares me. The last thing I want is for a crew to follow me around while I’m trying to plan a wedding and find my footing in the Hollywood crowd. I’d rather fail when no one is watching.

Leaving Joey every morning is getting harder and harder. I don’t know if it’s because I’m not into this movie and the fast filming process, if it’s because I’m not entirely fond of my demanding co-star, or simply because I’d rather be with Joey. I’m sure it’s mostly the latter considering the way she makes me feel. I’ve never been so comfortable with someone before. I’ve never not cared that people were taking our photos at dinner because they’re capturing moments that we haven’t been able to capture outside of our own memories.

Either way, this movie can’t be done soon enough. I’m ready to move on, get back to Los Angeles, find a house, and start living a life with her. I know she hates living in the hotel, but it’s something she’s going to have to get used to. I want her to travel with me, be near me while filming. Being away from her for long periods of time isn’t going to work for me. It’s selfish of me to say, I know, but it’s how I feel. I suppose she can always travel and come visit, but it won’t be the same. Falling asleep and waking up in her arms is the only thing getting me through these shoots.

Finally, my scenes are becoming fewer and I’m allotted more breaks. Each break is spent talking to Joey, and even when it’s mindless chatter, hearing her voice helps get me through the rest of my day. I’ve finally convinced her that she needs to leave the hotel, daily. It doesn’t matter what she’s doing, as long as she’s out and about. She’s scared to spend my money for fear she’d look like a gold-digger. I get that, but she’s my wife and she has to realize sooner or later that what’s mine is hers. Joey doesn’t have to work if she doesn’t want to—in fact, I prefer that she not.

When she tried to talk to me about Cole and Millie, I had to shut her down. I’ve seen too many couples fight because of what their friends are going through. We both care about our friends, but there has to be a fine line of when to get involved. Since our last appearance, Cole and I haven’t spoken. I didn’t really expect u

s to maintain a solid friendship, but knew Millie and Joey would. I get that Joey wants to help them, but it’s none of our business. Joey and I are going to have enough of our own issues to deal with once we’re back home. The media will be relentless in picking our relationship apart and I’d rather focus all of my energy on making sure Joey knows that I’m in love with her and not some random coffee girl that happens to post a selfie with the wrong caption.

As soon as I finish my current scene I hightail it to my trailer. My phone is sitting there, waiting for me, and in my hand by the time I’m spread out on my sofa.

“Done already?”

There’s no sultry hello when she answers and deep down that bothers me. I know I shouldn’t look for the worst in everything and give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I caught her doing something and she wasn’t prepared to answer my video call?

“Hello, wife,” I say instead of answering her question. Her face lights up, quelling any thoughts I had that something may be off.

“Hello, husband,” she replies. “I miss you,” she adds, instantly putting the cheesiest smile on my face.

“I miss you, too, Joey. I’ll be done early. Do you want to grab dinner out?”

“Yes, but dessert back here. I made a cake today.”

My stomach rolls angrily, mocking me for being here and not at home with Joey, eating her cake. It’s not that she does anything special, it’s that she made it. The memory of her smashing still warm cake in my face during the show is as crisp as the day it happened. I thought I was being smooth by bringing up the fact that we hadn’t shared our celebratory cake that most newlyweds do at the reception and she took the bait. Only she bested me and I’ll never forget it.

“We could always have cake for dinner,” I suggest. She laughs, making me wonder how many times in her life she has done that. Growing up, it didn’t matter what I ate, as long as I put food in my stomach. Dinners stopped being a thing in my house early on. My mother was too busy with her boy-toys to make dinner and my father was never home on time. I ate whatever I could find: chips, cookies, ice cream, frozen dinners. My lifestyle as a pre-teen was anything less than stellar in the food department.

“We could. How long is your break for?”

“About an hour. Once we hang up, I’m going to take a nap. I did a fight scene today and even the motions of trying to hit someone takes a toll.”

“Maybe you need to work out.”

“Haha, you’re funny,” I tell her. I’ve complained repeatedly that the filming schedule has messed up my exercise routine. In the house, I could lift weights and do cardio every day. I felt great, and I was probably in the best shape of my life. Being on set has ruined that. “Are you saying I’m weak?”



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