Even though he was forty years old, he was hot. Insanely hot. He shot all of our film’s outdoor scenes while wearing nothing but swim trunks and I had to remind myself that he was my boss, that he was completely unavailable.
There were times when I caught him staring at me in between takes, when I thought his chocolate colored eyes were checking me out, but I brushed away those thoughts. I figured he was probably just wondering how I could elicit more emotion in certain scenes.
He handed me a single sonata lily and sat beside me, clasping my hand in his. “Tell me something. Why do you always sit alone in your trailer whenever we take breaks?”
“Umm,” I blushed. “I don’t know…”
He used his other hand to caress my thigh and I gasped. “I think we should change that, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean by—” before I could finish, his lips were on my lips and he was kissing me passionately.
I felt myself kissing him back, enjoying the feel of his touch—wondering if he could hear how loudly my heart was beating against my chest.
“I’m sorry,” he slowly pulled away, “but I’ve wanted to do that ever since we started filming.”
I was speechless. I couldn’t believe that had just happened.
“Is Matt Sterling really the love of your life, Selena?” he lifted my hand and kissed it. “Is your upcoming wedding real?”
“No…It’s a staged relationship,” I barely managed.
“I thought so…Well, I only stopped by to give you your favorite flower and tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I blinked. Then I whispered, “Sonata lilies aren’t my favorite…I just tell the press that…”
“Oh really?” he pulled me into his lap and swept a few stray hairs away from my face. “Well, what is your favorite flower? I’ll have to get that next time…”
I started to tell him, but he cut me off and kissed me again. This time it was more forceful, more possessive—he wrapped his arms around my waist and didn’t release me until we were both out of breath.
He planted kisses up and down my neck, whispering, “I would like to take you out to dinner tonight, Selena…I won’t take no for an answer.”
My pulse quickened and I murmured “okay,” as he slid his hand underneath my shirt.
“I know this is premature,” he looked into my eyes, “but I’m a pretty straightforward guy: I’m going to make you mine someday. Soon.”
And that was it. That was all it took for us to begin a six week affair of dinners, lavish trips, and hot passionate sex in hidden hotels.
He didn’t want to destruct my public image of being engaged to Matt, so he made sure each of our dates was as private as possible: We arrived to dinners separately, checked into hotels underneath different names, and spent plenty of time in each other’s apartments.
There were only a few times when passion overtook us both and we just couldn’t wait to get to a private area, but for the most part we were very careful.
The day his wife introduced herself to me and congratulated me on winning my Emmys I went into shock. I’d never seen him wear a wedding ring, and although I knew he had children, he never mentioned having a wife.
As much as it pained me to let him go, I went to his trailer that night and told him we were over.
I stood in his room crying, shouting, berating him for not telling me that he had a wife, but he walked over to me and silenced me with a kiss.
“She was stopping by to drop off our daughters, Selena. That’s it,” he hugged me. “We’re in the middle of a divorce, but we’re still being cordial with one another,” he kissed me over and over. “I don’t want her. I want you…I’m in love with you.”
I snapped out of my memory and heard the paparazzi screaming my name outside the window. I wanted to go out there and tell them the truth about the affair, but I knew that wasn’t the right way to handle things.
I shut my eyes and wished that my mom was with me. She’d know exactly what to do in this situation.
She would look into my eyes, which were the mirror image of hers, and give me her honest and heartfelt advice.
She would tell me whether I was wrong or not, whether I deserved an apology or needed to hurry up and give one. Then, as she always did when I came running to her in tears, she’d kiss my forehead and tell me that she loved me no matter what.
I picked up my phone and scrolled down to her number. I almost hit “call,” but I stopped myself. I wasn’t even sure if her number was still the same.
I figured that after four years of acting as if she didn’t exist, she’d probably moved on with her life like I’d moved on with mine.
I turned my phone off and wiped away my tears.
I told myself that I didn’t need my mom, or anyone else for that matter. I could get through this on my own. I just needed to get through six more weeks.