“I’m right here. It’s just us. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Lauren had talked actresses down a million and nine times, but not a single one of those conversations had affected her as potently as this one was. She had a lump in her own damn throat.

“It’s just”—Carly wiped her eyes—“there’s always been this little part of me that’s wondered if my success in film was because of how I look, you know? That my talent mattered less when they could send a makeup artist onto set to touch you up every five minutes, and give you fifteen takes to make a moment work. Here…” She shook her head and sighed. “It’s so raw. There’s no smoke and mirrors. It’s going to be me just standing there, acting, sweating, and crying, and I’m pretty sure that’s not going to be enough.”

Lauren gathered Carly’s hands in hers. “I don’t know who in the world has gotten in your head and made you think that you’re not talented outright, but let me be the one to set you straight. Can I be brutally honest?”

Carly laughed. “I feel like you’re always honest. But yes, let’s toss in brutal, for God’s sake.”

“I wasn’t thrilled when I heard they’d cast you in this show.” Carly nodded, taking it in. “I’d read that you were unreliable, into partying, and held up production with your antics.”

“Most of that was true,” Carly admitted. “Not all. But most.”

Lauren wasn’t finished. “Never once, however, did I doubt your talent or ability to completely master this role in every sense. Not for one second.”

Carly blinked. “Really?” She touched Lauren’s cheek. “Come on. That can’t be true.”

“Except it is. I’ve seen many of your movies and have always admired your work.” She inclined her head from side to side. “I mean, if you think about it, the reason they put up with you in Hollywood for so long is because you’re good. Otherwise? You’d have been blacklisted years back.”

Carly laughed, and that felt like progress. “I never looked at it like that.”

Lauren straightened. “That’s me. Voice of reason.”