ONCE MORE, WITH YOU

IV

Summer Preston

I woke up the next morning with a pounding headache that felt like someone was jackhammering inside my skull. Regret hit me immediately—last night's drinking had been a terrible idea.

Groaning, I stumbled out of bed, unsteady on my feet, and made my way to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, the sound of the water almost soothing, and glanced at myself in the mirror. What I saw made me wince. Smudged makeup clung to my face like a bad decision, and my hair looked like it had lost a fight with a tornado.

With a heavy sigh, I stripped off my clothes and stepped under the hot stream of water. The warmth cascaded over me, and I dipped my head under, letting it soak my hair and clear some of the fog in my brain. For a few minutes, I just stood there, allowing the steam to envelop me before getting down to business—washing my hair and scrubbing away the remnants of last night.

After turning off the shower, I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself, patting my skin dry. Standing at the sink, I methodically completed my skincare routine, brushed my teeth, and worked a brush through my damp hair before blow-drying it. I styled it into a smooth blowout, the routine calming my frazzled nerves just a little.

Back in my room, I moisturized my skin, applied deodorant, and sifted through my closet for something to wear. After trying on a handful of outfits, I settled on a sleek black long-sleeve Skims top paired with low-waisted jeans from Garage. I accessorized with my usual gold jewelry and slipped into my Christian Louboutins.

A light touch of makeup, a spritz of perfume, and I was nearly ready. I grabbed my trench coat and sunglasses, slipping them on with practiced ease, before collecting my purse and keys. Moments later, I was in my Range Rover, driving toward Dunkin' for a much-needed caffeine boost.

Coffee in hand, I arrived on set only to be greeted by chaos. My cosmetic team was running around like headless chickens, and I couldn't help but push my sunglasses up into my hair in irritation.

I raised my voice to cut through the commotion. "Why are you all so chaotic?"

One of the assistants turned to me, frazzled. "Ms. Preston, we're trying to make sure everyone has the correct outfits for their scenes—"

"Then do it in their trailers," I snapped. "Not where the crew is setting up. You'll break a camera at this rate!"

Without waiting for a reply, I brushed past them and headed to my office. Once inside, I set my coffee on the desk and announced over the intercom, "We start shooting in twenty minutes. Everything better be perfect by then. Today is not the day for screw-ups."

I sat down, taking a long sip of coffee before opening Gossip Girl on my laptop. Ten minutes into the episode, a knock on my door interrupted me.

"Come in," I called, irritation thick in my voice.

The door opened to reveal August, looking sheepish, with a woman standing behind her. I sighed, exasperated. "What is it, August?"

"I—I just wanted to apologize for yesterday," she stammered, fiddling with her fingers. "I promise I'll focus today so we can finish before the premiere."

"You'd better mean it," I replied sharply, my eyes shifting to the woman behind her.

"This is my girlfriend, Spencer," August added, stepping aside.

Spencer stepped forward, extending a hand. "Hi, I'm Spencer. It's nice to meet you, Summer. I just got back from Europe, and my hotel isn't ready yet, so August said I could stay in her trailer—"

"Yeah, I don't care," I cut her off. "August, let's go. We're starting."

I brushed past them, my patience wearing thin. The last thing I needed was a detailed explanation of why someone was here when I had bigger things to handle.