Chapter Fifteen | Parade of Fragility

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"Woah... looks like you had a hell of an afterparty!"

Simon Farnaby meant well as he clapped me on the back at the craft services table, but his analysis of my drawn face and red eyes didn't help my pounding headache.

"Yeah," I lied with a weak smile. "Was quite a night!"

I had hardly slept. Most of the night had been spent laying wretchedly in my bed, crying furiously into my sweatshirt sleeves and shouting at myself in my head. I couldn't believe I had gotten myself into this position — I couldn't believe I had gotten Ben into this position — all because I had to kiss the cute guy on the stoop that one night a few weeks ago.

And now, here I was grabbing a dry croissant and an orange juice in the green room of West Horsley Place (also known as Button House) for the last time. I felt the tears well up again and my face threatened to crumple.

"Hey," said Simon with a softness that took me aback. "Hey, don't be upset!"

He wrapped one arm around me and pulled me to his chest — he is very tall, after all — in a tight hug.

"Sorry," I sniffed. "It's just my last day..."

"I know," he soothed. "We all get weepy on the last day, it's alright."

I didn't clue him into the other, bigger reasons that my emotional fortitude was currently about as tough as a slice of Swiss cheese — but I accepted the comfort gratefully, all the same.


I continued my parade of fragility as I went to the hair and makeup trailer and found Lolly, Charlotte and Katy inside, getting the finishing touches put on theirs.

"Oh!" Called Charlotte as soon as I entered, reaching a hand out to me. "I can't even look at you — how can this be the last day? Can't we bully Ben into writing one more episode?"

I chuckled mirthlessly and took her hand, giving it a fond squeeze.

"You guys..." I began, the tears brimming again.

There was a collective "Aww" as the hair and makeup people flanked me with a comforting hug.

"Right," said Faith, the beautiful redheaded older makeup artist who had done my looks for the entire shoot. "I'm devastated to see you go, but you've gotta get all that out of your system now because I can only do a liquid liner fox eye so many times!"

I laughed, this time earnestly, and sat in the chair.


Seeing Ben for the first time since our split felt like taking a bullet. I hadn't prepared — hadn't known how to prepare — for how painful it would be to go from sharing eager, flirtatious glances to an ice-cold wall between us. How much of a punch to the gut it would be to see him and realize that I was never going to kiss him or hold him or be on the receiving end of his affection again. We assembled in the drawing room for one of the final scenes. I felt my stomach twist wretchedly as my eyes locked with his, only for him to immediately look back down at his script, his face dour. It took every ounce of my training to stay professional and not fall apart.

"Right," said Charlotte. "You ready for us to kick you out?"

"We don't mean it," said Kiell with a joking dryness. "It's just pretend, we actually really like you."

"Thanks, Kiell," I responded with a hollow chuckle. "I appreciate that distinction."

"Oh," groaned Charlotte with a tongue click as she grabbed my hand. She turned and called to Ben. "Ben, can't we have her bump her head or something so that she can see ghosts too, that way she come back in later seasons or something!"

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