Page 36 of Love Unscripted
“Who says I want to do anything about it?” Aaron said quickly. “I just want to study the Bible with her.”
Adam smiled. “Of course.”
Chapter7
Camille sat curled in the corner of a white sectional in her Bel Air home, the white fluffy robe wrapped tight around her frame. The house had been carefully chosen. For someone like her—not close to her parents, with no siblings and few true friends—it was the perfect retreat. A secluded, modern Mediterranean house at the end of a winding gated drive, shielded from the world by towering hedges, old oaks, and high security walls.
She sat contemplating if she should attend church that morning. She was still such a new believer. Her church was in the Valley and she attended occasionally, but excuses about work had often kept her away.
Since joining theEstherset, however, she had none. Aaron refused to film on Sundays, extending an open invitation to the cast and crew who didn’t have a home church, to accompany him to his and then join him for Sunday lunch. She had always declined with the excuse that she had a home church but she didn’t really consider the church she attended home.
It wasn’t that she disliked it. The people were warm, welcoming. The worship music was excellent. She’d begun attending after an invitation from a crew member onShadow Peak—someone who had met her at her lowest point and introduced her to Christ. For that, she would always be grateful.
But she often left feeling… hungry. The sermons lacked depth. The pastor would open the Bible briefly, select a verse, then spend the next hour speaking about human needs, potential, and self-improvement. She longed for something richer. She wanted to understand God—His nature, Christ’s finished work, the glory of salvation that pointedupward, not inward.
Perhaps she should try Aaron’s church. She’d overheard crew members talking about it—how skeptical they’d been atfirst, how surprised they were by the simplicity. No smoke, no spectacle. Just the gospel.
She glanced at her watch. There was still time. She could dress and make the fifteen-minute drive.
As she stood, her phone chimed.
She glanced at it.
Simon.
Why wouldn’t he stop?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. He could message all he wanted. She didn’t have to answer. She didn’t even have to read it. Yet as she began to dress, her eyes went back to the phone.
What did he want?
She slipped into a pistachio-green silk jersey dress, the long chiffon sleeves floating softly as she moved. The bodice skimmed her curves, the skirt falling in an elegant line. It was understated, feminine—gentle.
As she applied light makeup, Simon crept back into her thoughts. He had been her boss. The producer of her show. Eleven years older. Wise. Worldly. Always dispensing advice—guidance she hadn’t even realized she was craving.
She had welcomed his leadership.
It had been around the time she fired her father as her accountant. Around the time her parents separated. With Carlo gone, it had felt good to lean on someone steady.
Until he wasn’t gently leading anymore. Until he was pushing her to do things she didn’t want to do. Until he was bullying her to have his way and threatening if that didn’t work.
She glanced at the phone as she combed back her hair.
She slipped on her bangle, then reached for her phone and unlocked the message.
Camille, the season has collapsed without you. I’m begging you—come back. Nobody can fill the space you left. You’re irreplaceable. Aradia was magnificent because of you. I willincrease your salary to $2 million per episode. I miss you, Camille. I want you back.
Her throat tightened.
Memories rushed in uninvited—the first meeting, the first kiss, the first date. The love she had believed in. The betrayal that followed.
I miss you, Camille. I want you back.
Tears burned.
“Lord,” she whispered, “I don’t need this. I don’t want it.”
She stayed there a moment, then wiped her eyes, blew her nose, steadied herself. When she finished her makeup and smoothed her hair, the ache had dulled.
