“What did he say?” she asked, trying to ease back into her PSM role, despite the fact that the back of her neck felt warm and she could still feel Carly’s gaze all over. She stole a final glance at Carly but felt that connection from minutes ago still very much intact.

“He said that if the scenic folks would speed the hell up, we’re on time to move in this week. Yet he’s grumbling about Tinsley demanding more money for paint.”

This wasn’t the first time those two had butted heads. “Tins is always very particular about her mixing, and sometimes that requires additional coats we didn’t budget for.”

“Sounds like she’s our holdup. Other than that, we’re good to go.”

Lauren set out the sign-in sheet and nodded. “I’ll talk to her.” It wasn’t technically her job to wrangle an assistant designer, but if Tinsley was going to be a monkey wrench in the works, she could always mention it to Wilks so he could get ahead of the problem.

“So, this is yet another thing you do,” Carly said, grinning. “You look ahead to any problems.”

“Part of my job. Yes.” The answer seemed to intrigue Carly, who stole a doughnut and wandered a few feet away to study her lines.

Trip pointed at Carly silently with a shocked looked on his face and his jaw fully dropped. Lauren nodded back at him wordlessly with wide oh-my-God eyes, as if to say, yes, an early Carly Daniel was something to behold. The morning had been a unique one. Yet Lauren couldn’t wipe the never-ending smile off her face. Their one-on-one work sessions invigorated her just as much as they did Carly.

In fact, she wondered when they’d find some alone time next. She told herself that the thought was a harmless one and allowed it. Underneath, concern crept in, because with Carly, Lauren felt out of control, and there was nothing Lauren craved more in life than structure and control.

“You okay in there, Lala?” Trip asked quietly, as the cast members began to trickle in.

Lauren grinned at him. “I think so.” She didn’t have time to dwell on her status, however, as her phone danced in vibration where she’d left it on the table. They were two minutes from the official start of rehearsal and the actors who had been called were already engaged in vocal warm-ups. “This is Lauren.”

“Lauren. Evelyn.”

She glanced down at the sign-in sheet and saw that she’d yet to sign-in. “Hey, there. Everything okay?”

“Definitely not.”

“Okay. What’s going on?” Lauren walked a few feet away, out of earshot of the group, sensing this might need to be a private conversation.

“I’m not coming in today. Food poisoning. Really bad.”

“Oh no. Do you need anything? What can we do?”