I sighed and rolled my eyes, both at myself for not being able to find the words and for her, because she was as bad as me. “I have been seen with men before.”
“And never more than once.”
She had me there. “Maggie—”
“No judgment here,” Maggie said. “It has certainly given me much less drama to deal with.”
“Except for all of those articles accusing me of being a whore,” I muttered.
“Pish. People have always had a problem with female sexuality.” Maggie sighed. “That unfortunately doesn’t seem to change. Too much sex and she’s a whore. Too little and a prude. Too many boyfriends, not enough of them, too sexy of clothes, not sexy enough. I could go on and on, but it wouldn’t make any difference. We’re always going to be judged on what we do and don’t do, but I don’t want that stopping you from living your life.”
“Even if it makes a shitstorm for you to clean up?”
Maggie snorted. “Are you planning on making a shitstorm for me to clean up?”
“Not planning on it.”
“Good.” A beat. “Now, who are you seeing?”
“Damon Garcia.”
“The photographer?”
“One and the same.”
“Honey and a silver bikini,” she said with a cackle that had me chuckling. “So, that’s the secret to getting a good man?”
“At least one that makes me smile and brings me pizza.”
“Damn, girl, you did good.”
I laughed outright. “I know I did.”
“And . . . you’re happy?”
Nodding, though she couldn’t see me, I said, “I am.”
“Good.” A beat. “You know, if I was there right now, I’d hug you.”
I grinned. “If you were here, I’d let you.” A giggle. “Well, only if you could find a way to corral Grant’s ego.”
“I think that’s impossible, Eden.”
We both laughed. I said, “I think that’s impossible, too,” which set us both off again.
“Eden?” she asked when we’d eventually gotten ourselves under control.
“Yeah?”
“I’m happy that you’re happy.”
“I—”
“Sorry, I know I’m overstepping,” Maggie said softly. “But I am truly happy for you, Ed. You work so hard and deserve to have someone in your life who appreciates you.”
Friend.
I’d opened myself up, shed some armor, and . . . now I had Damon, and a friend—a real one, not just an acquaintance I was friendly with and not just an employee—in Maggie.
“Thanks,” I murmured. “And feel free to overstep anytime. It’s nice to have a friend.”
Quiet then. “I agree. I’ve been in short supply of good ones of late.”
Which is when I remembered her ex Ben. “Shit, I’m sorry,” I said. “Here I’ve been going on and on about Damon and you and Ben—”
“First, you haven’t been going on and on. You shared. You’re happy. You deserve it and don’t have to apologize,” Maggie said firmly. “And also, just because my ex was an ass, doesn’t mean that the people around me don’t deserve their slice of happy.”
“I—”
“And last, if I had a man like Damon Garcia interested in me, you’d better believe I’d give up my freedom and lock that shit down.”
I giggled. “Are you saying I should put a ring on it?”
“Um. Yes. Absolutely, that.”
I snorted. She giggled . . . then we both busted out laughing again. After a while, we managed to regain control and finished running through the final details of the publicity she’d scheduled me to do, then chatted about nothing for a few minutes more, before hanging up.
My cell had just hit the table when the knock on my trailer door came, the voice telling me they needed me back on set.
I sighed and sat up.
Back to the Ego. Joy of joys.
Still, at the end of the day I’d get to talk to Damon, and I found with that happy thought in the back of my mind, perhaps Grant didn’t seem so terrible after all.
A lie.
But at least I had something to look forward to while I did my job.
That definitely made it less terrible.
“I—” Tally grunted as she struggled with the zipper on the back of my costume. “I just . . . there! I’ve got it!”
I patted my makeup artist’s hand. “Thanks for the assist. That zipper is a bear.”
“They’ve certainly got you poured in there. Can you even breathe?”
I sucked in a tentative breath. “Sort of?”
“Aw.” Tally grinned. “The price of fashion and film.”
“At least it’s a fabulous dress if I’m suffering for both.”
Tally laughed. “True.” She turned to grab a brush and compact from the table. “Now, just one more touch up and you’ll be ready to hit the New Mexico sun.”
“And they said L.A. was hot.”
A few strokes of the brush across my nose, my cheeks. “We are in the desert.”
“Be logical, why don’t you?” I muttered, smoothing my hands down my front. “Good thing this is the last scene for this dress. Any more and I’ll be bursting out.”
“You look beautiful.”
“I look boobalicious.”
A snort. “I wished that if my dress got too tight, it would only be in my chest region.” The petite brunette patted her hips. “This is where I always gain when I’ve had too many chocolates.”
“Oh, believe me,” I told her. “I’ve gained there, too. I’m just bloated, and I’ve indulged in far too many Pizza Nights of late.” My smile was instant at the mention of pizza because it conjured up Damon. Damon, who’d spent the rest of the weekend at my house until I’d flown out on Sunday, who’d made me perfectly crispy bacon to go with my perfectly fluffy pancakes.
Who’d stayed even though I’d told him everything.
Who hadn’t changed.
Who could order a mean DoorDash when it became clear that both of our cooking skills were limited to breakfast foods . . . or rather, one type of breakfast food for me (no, I still did not consider guacamole acceptable breakfast food), and two if you counted cinnamon-sugar toast and frying bacon for Damon.
And I’d run out of bacon.
I snorted.
“I’m loving that smile on your face right now.”
My eyes drifted up, met Tally’s mahogany ones. “I’m happy,” I said simply.
“I’m glad,” she said then grumbled. “One
