After turning on the shower, I begin to absently rummage in the cabinets. I don’t know why I’m doing it. The fresh towels are neatly stacked on an open shelf right where I can see them. I look in the vanity drawer: a first aid kit, allergy pills.

I go to the medicine cabinet: electric razor, shaving cream, cologne…

I twist open the bottle and take a sniff. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing that last night. It must have been a gift from his mother. Linda has unusual taste.

Linda. I need to call her. Bobby is right about that. Without looking, I shove the bottle back into the medicine cabinet and a box falls out. Every man’s little gold best friend. Shit, I wish I hadn’t seen these. The condoms don’t surprise me, but the internal nerve pricks have just gotten worse.

I lift the lid. The box looks almost completely full. It doesn’t mean anything. Could be new. I set it back on the shelf and close the cabinet door.

I take a shower in record time, finger scrunch the dampness from my curls, pull on yesterday’s clothes and grab my purse. I check my phone. Still no message from Bobby. I pull free my keys and then freeze.

Shit, I don’t have a car. How am I going to get to the downtown from here? I spot a set of keys still on the dresser. Maybe Bobby has another vehicle as well as Bertha.

I go out onto the porch and find Bertha still in the driveway. So Bobby didn’t take the heap truck last night wherever he went. I’m hit with another internal nerve prick that I don’t want.

I lock the front door, then close it behind me. I debate with myself whether to shoot Bobby a text but, hell, the guy should have texted me.

An 8 a.m. commute on the 101 means a two-hour drive from Simi Valley into the downtown. If Bobby and I get back together, we’re going to have to figure out something so that I don’t have to do this commute.

Back together. How would that work? Our living situations are incompatible now that he lives in Simi. Finally we are at perfect guy, perfect time and now there is geography ruining it.

Oh well, he’s just nearly perfect at the moment. He’d be perfect if he’d text me so this rampant flashing suspicion would end. He’s doing nothing wrong. Bobby is an all-in or all-out kind of guy. I know that. Why is not knowing where he is driving me crazy?

I park Bertha next to my shiny black Lexus. I laugh, wondering what everyone will think of me arriving to work in an old truck still dressed in yesterday’s clothing.

I hurry through the double glass doors and Veronica’s face shoots up to greet me.

She comes around her desk. In a whisper, she says, “Justin has had me on lookout duty for an hour. You’re late.”

I frown, shaking my head. “What’s the big deal? He just wanted to meet and discuss a few things.”

Veronica’s eyes widen. “He didn’t text you?”

“Text me what?”

“He did another cut of the documentary yesterday. Without you. The team voted on a new title. He pushed up the meeting with the distributor to today. They are doing the pitch today.”

I freeze. “He did what?”

Veronica makes a shush face. “We got a call from IGSB. We’re behind schedule. They were thinking of pulling out. The team worked all through the night, Kaley. IGSB wanted the meeting today. They’re scheduled to be here in two hours.”

Oh crap. I scramble toward my office, feeling panicky, betrayed and irritated as hell. The one day I take my eyes off everything Justin can’t work things out with IGSB, he does a new cut of the documentary solo without my permission, and he’s about to show it without my approval.

I dump my purse on my desk, hit the lights and then power up my computer. I look at myself in the wall mirror. Great, I have wind-dried hair and I look like a girl wearing yesterday’s outfit. Crud.

I rush down the hall to the conference room, swing open the door, and the entire team turns at once and stares at me.

“Justin? Can I speak with you for a moment? Privately.”

I don’t wait for him to answer. I hurry down the hall to my office and settle on the edge of my desk feeling ready to pounce on him.

“Why didn’t you delay the meeting with IGSB? They just want to keep track of our progress. Why take the meeting now?”

Justin steps in and closes the door. “Rafe said they were going to pull the plug.”

Rafe, my USC buddy and hotshot independent documentary distributer. Like hell he would have pulled the plug.

“Why didn’t you call me? I know how to manage Rafe. Instead you did another cut, rushed, all without me. And then you take a meeting that, if it goes the wrong way, could bankrupt me. You do understand I need this project to succeed?”

Justin stiffens, but his manner remains calm. “I couldn’t reach you. I made a decision. The one I thought was in the interest of the company. There was no point losing valuable production time because you weren’t here.” He checks his watch. “I’ve got enough time to run the cut for you before the meeting. You can decide after if you want to risk another delay with IGSB.”

Justin’s calm infuriates me.

“I specifically said I wanted to be there through the next round of cutting. I specifically said we don’t screen this unless I give it my OK.”

“Kaley, you’re the director. You shoot the film. But I’m the editor. I turn it into a story. We’re a creative partnership. We’re not working against each other. The process would work a lot better if this was the process you’d commit to.”

My cheeks burn. “Are you telling me how to do my job?”

“No. I’m telling you how I do mine. If you don’t like the latest cut we can try to delay the meeting and start over this afternoon. We all have our talents, Kaley. You have vision. An eye. Determination. My talent is making the most of your vision.”

I shake my head. I probably would have fired him yesterday for that, and yet something in what he said reminds me of where I messed up with Bobby, pricks at my conscience, and holds me at bay.

“Let’s go look at the latest cut,” I announce and move quickly ahead of him out of the office.

When we step back into the conference room, everyone looks at me as if they’ve speculated about the scene outside the room. I smile and sink into my chair. There is a printed list of the changes on the table in front of me. Finding Fiona.

Fiona? Fiona? There is a photograph with the notes. I remember her. Great footage: young, still beautiful but bearing the marks of walking the streets, and poignant in her hope for something better that somehow still whispers from her eyes. She is fascinating and vulnerable. Much better title. So Justin changed the title. Did he change the focus, too?

I lift my gaze. “Great title. Good work, everyone.”

Cool. In control. Professional. Now let’s see what they did to my film. I lean back in my chair as the lights go out and the first footage is of Fiona. I don’t even remember shooting this. When did we cut it? It’s excellent.

I shift my gaze to Justin. He looks at me. I nod. He deserves something for this. He made the beginning better, so much better than it had been.

As I watch Justin’s creation, I can’t stop myself from recalling his words earlier in my office. You have vision. An eye. Determination. My talent is making the most of your vision.

Without me, Justin’s work is brilliant. Has my enthusiasm over the work stifled the team? Am I helping them to be their best or preventing it? That’s something I’m going to need to spend some time analyzing.

The documentary ends. The room is quiet. Allie turns on the lights and out of the corner of my eye I can see her watching, trying to assess my reaction to this.

I smile. “Well done, everyone. Excellent work. We’re very ready for IGSB today, thanks to all of you. We can meet back here at two.”

I nod at each team member as they leave the conference table. Allie closes the door behind her and leaves me alone with Justin.