Afton rolls her eyes. ‘I vote thin crust spinach and mushroom.’

Raul is horrified. ‘No way. I’m a man. I need meat and I want it stuffed.’

‘That’s what he said,’ Claudia mumbles.

Before Raul can return fire, I notice one of the girls from my building who saw me with Reid the night he stayed in my dorm – one of the girls on the receiving end of that spontaneous wink of his. She’s sitting at an adjacent table with several other girls, and they’re all leaning their heads together and staring – at me.

‘Uh-oh,’ Claudia tells me quietly. ‘I think your cover is blown.’

‘What cover? What’s going on?’ Afton is wide-eyed and speaking in a whisper that could be heard two tables away.

‘Why. Are. We. Whispering?’ Raul asks, whispering just as loudly.

‘Can we go somewhere else?’ I ask, and they all look at me like I’m insane. There’s a mob of people waiting for tables, and we’ve got one.

A waiter appears, as though Raul’s growling stomach conjured him. ‘What can I get for you guys tonight?’

As Raul and Afton order, Claudia scoots her chair a bit, blocking me from maybe two people at the table of six. ‘Just ignore them.’

Ignore them. Right. I rearrange my silverware, all too aware that they’ve pulled out cell phones now and are taking pictures. Of me. When I was with Reid on Saturday night, and he guided me into the restaurant with one arm around my waist, the paparazzi flashes were different. The photos were of him, and I was merely with him.

Here, I’m alone, ordering dinner with friends, living my average-girl life.

Except for the whole strangers photographing me part.

‘Why is that gaggle of sororstitutes taking our picture?’ Raul asks when the waiter leaves.

Claudia sputters, ‘Don’t call them that, you sexist –’

‘Have you seen the parade of them through my dorm room? No. You have not.’ One of Raul’s roommates is a total man-whore, and is beyond skilled – according to Raul – at locating and successfully propositioning every willing girl on campus. ‘I can sleep through just about anything now. A condition which makes me sad for my lost innocence.’

Claudia barks a laugh. ‘Oh, please. If you’re innocent, I’m the Dali Lama.’

‘Namaste,’ he returns.

‘Excuse me.’ Oh, no. Elevator girl – holding a magazine, folded open to a page splashed with photographs of various celebrities everywhere from fashion shows to deli counters to poolside. Right in the centre: Reid in his grey suit and blue tie, and me, semi-obscured by Reid’s body, in the blue dress. ‘This is you, isn’t it? And when Geneva and I saw you in the elevator – that was him, wasn’t it? I mean, I can understand why you’d want to keep it on the down-low, but come on.’

I cross my fingers under the table. ‘We’re … friends.’ I don’t even know why I’m lying. I hate lying.

She arches an eyebrow. ‘So what’s he doing with Brooke Cameron? I mean – you said the guy you were with was your boyfriend before, when we asked …’

Darn her memory. ‘He just … didn’t want to be recognized.’

‘Because he didn’t want it getting back to her that he was spending nights with you?’

My jaw falls open. Luckily, Claudia says, ‘Hey, look. We’re trying to have a study group session here. She says they’re friends, and she has no comment on what’s-her-name. And please tell your friends that taking pictures of people they don’t know is rude. Tah-tah and buh-bye.’

The girl turns on her heel and shoots back to the table, where all six heads are conferring.

‘Fudge,’ I say.

By Wednesday evening, there’s an indistinct photo of Reid and Brooke Cameron outside a courthouse in downtown Austin on Tuesday morning. That’s when the speculation starts in earnest. The photos of them in the airport and on the plane – each reading something, not touching and not speaking to each other – all of a sudden look like a lovers’ spat.

That girl in San Francisco must be the cause of it, one site speculates. Brooke must have gone home to Texas, upset, and he followed her. But what are they doing at a courthouse?

Everyone has an opinion, and of course, neither of them can be reached for comment.

Reid: Why aren’t you answering my texts or calls?

REID

Every time I get a text, I think maybe it’s from Dori, but it’s not.

This morning, Mom texted photos of the renovations in my old room. She and Dad set up home study appointments, and we’ve all filled out questionnaires that are every bit as intrusive as Brooke warned me they’d be. Mom is somehow happy about River, which floors me but doesn’t seem to stun Dad, who says he knew it would go one of two ways.

He told her, she cried, and then she called to tell me she was proud of me.

She’s only said that to me once before – the day I beat up a kid at school who’d lifted a girl’s skirt in front of everyone in the playground and thought it was funny – until I busted his lip open. We both got suspended, though our exclusive private school had a zero tolerance for violence policy. Funny how zero tolerance turns into we’re-tolerating-it-just-this-once when affluent parents throw money at the problem.

That was ten years ago.

I just got a text from Emma, who I’ve only talked to twice since the Vancouver film festival last fall; getting a text from her is out of the blue.

Emma: Dad called to tell me I’d got a call from a caseworker in Texas, and I assumed it was about Brooke, but it was about YOU?

Me: Wow, that was fast.

Emma: ???

Me: We’re asking for joint custody.

Emma: Hold on. I must be hallucinating. I read that you two have been … seeing each other, which I thought could not be for real. But YOU and BROOKE – joint custody? Can you talk???

Me: Sure, I’ve got a few minutes.

‘I see you’ve been reading the gossip sites,’ I answer in place of hello, grabbing a bottle of water from the craft services trailer and moving away from the current scene being shot. I’m in full costume and make-up – including a couple of authentic-looking blades, one tucked into a holster on my belt and another in my boot, but I’ve got fifteen or twenty minutes until I’m up.

‘Reid, you know I’m not allowed to read those. Emily reads them. I’m shown links or given summarized news on a need-to-know basis only.’

‘Still? I guess now she’s protecting you from the legions of Graham-stalkers, eh?’ She growls and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Well, you can tell Emily that hearsay concerning Brooke’s and my rekindled relationship is baseless. I’m with Dori. Not that she’s talking to me.’

‘And the joint custody thing you just so casually mentioned?’

‘Yeah, that’s a thing. Not a thing that’s out yet – but it will be. Soon.’

She sighs. ‘Reid – you know that once that’s out, it’s going to underscore the perception that you and Brooke are together, and the media will push that angle full throttle. I don’t know your girlfriend, but if it was me, I’d be really bothered. You need to talk to her.’

‘I know that – but she’s not answering my calls or texts. Her parents hate me. I don’t actually know any of her friends. I’m going to try to make a quick trip to Berkeley on Saturday, but right now I’m stuck on location in the middle of a fucking canyon in fucking Utah …’ I release a snarl of complete frustration and stop just short of running my hand through my perfectly styled set hair. ‘And why am I talking to you about this?’

‘Because I’m nosy?’

I laugh and heave a sigh.

‘I know I’m not a regular girl compared to Dori – especially since I’ll be banking on my previous film career to help me land Broadway auditions. But I do know how it feels to watch my movie-star boyfriend be publicly salivated over by thousands of girls, to have him constantly rumoured to be hooking up with other people. It’s hard to take sometimes, even if I know it’s total rubbish. And I trust Graham more than I’ve ever trusted anyone.’

Her words are like a physical blow. ‘You think Dori doesn’t trust me?’

‘I didn’t say that. Maybe she’s feeling insecure? No one wants to admit to that. Insecurity makes you feel weak and powerless, and that’s no way to have a healthy relationship. I would know. I was never more miserable.’

‘But she’s not the insecure type. She’s like … the opposite of insecure. It definitely feels like she doesn’t trust me. But why should she? I fucked up, not telling her about River. Just like I didn’t tell you.’

She sighs. ‘You know, I’ve told you before – what happened between you and Brooke, before me, wasn’t my business. I’d have got over the shock of that if it hadn’t been for, you know, the parade of girls right after.’

I shut my eyes. ‘Ugh, Emma …’

‘Never mind that – I’m long past it. Here’s the thing. Graham and I share past stuff – we talk about relevant personal history. But only stuff that impacts on our relationship. Neither of us needs to know or confess every single thing that happened before we met. Once you decided to become involved with River – that’s when it was time to tell her. And it sounds like you did. Eventually. Now she’s just got to work it out in her own head. Maybe she needs time. Maybe she doesn’t want to be in a stepmother position at her age. And if that’s the case … you’re going to have to make a choice between her and River.’

I feel like she’s just unloaded a ton of bricks on top of me, and I can barely breathe. Because what she just said – it’s true. It’s so fucking true. Emma would know what it takes to make that choice – to accept a child who doesn’t belong to you, right in the middle of your relationship, like a ghost of some former love. Goddammit if my initial reflex isn’t to back away from this child – who I don’t know at all – if that’s what it would take to keep Dori.

But what kind of man would that make me?

The PA calls out to let me know I’ll be up in ten minutes. I hold up a hand and nod at him. Fuck. How can I shoot a battle scene now when I feel crushed into dust? I need every second of that ten minutes to get my game face back on.

‘I’ve got to go. Thanks, Emma.’

‘I’m sorry, Reid – I know I didn’t make you feel any better –’

‘No,’ I laugh softly, once, ‘but you told me what I needed to hear. I’ll look you guys up when I’m filming in New York.’

Brooke: CALL ME WHEN YOU GET THIS.

Me: Filming. Can’t call. WHAT??

Brooke: We’re getting a pre-placement visitation. We may get him early. His foster mother had some kind of health thing come up, possible surgery, and they don’t want to bounce him into a new foster home and then to us not long after that.