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associate producers from the movie. There were script readings with the other stars now and then—some with Aaron himself—as they all made sure their dialog was locked down before there was any danger of facing a camera.
    There were also wardrobe fittings every now and again to help break up the monotony.
    The most exciting occasions, however, were when Hayley met up with Aaron himself. It happened three times during that pre-production process, initially for lunch, the second time for dinner, and the third time for a reading of the script together before a night out.
    Each time, we treated it as just another business meeting, and each time it happened Hayley reported back how professional he was, how pleasant it was spending time with him, but that his interest was purely to engage with her creatively regarding their movie project.
    Each time, though, I felt flickers of excitement watching her getting ready for her meetings with him, and I noticed that in each subsequent meeting with Aaron Simpson, Hayley’s clothing choice became tighter, shorter, more revealing, and more enticing for the male gaze.
    Then suddenly, as the long vacation was coming to a close, there was a flurry of activity, and after all those weeks of Hayley having little or nothing to do, she was suddenly caught up in a maelstrom of hustle and bustle.
    And suddenly, my time with her was very limited.
     
     
    *
     
     
    At first, though, things didn’t click with Aaron Simpson as filming got underway.
    Hayley came home in a terrible mood—frightened, it seemed to me, of getting kicked off the movie. I didn’t want to pry too much, didn’t want to pile any pressure on her shoulders, though I tried to give her the space to talk to me if she needed to.
    It took a long while—and half a bottle of wine a-piece—before I finally got her to open up.
    “I don’t know what it is—it’s just really awkward between us,” she told me.
    “You like him?”
    “Sure, he’s a really nice guy. Really professional.”
    “Good looking?”
    “Sure.”
    “So what’s the problem?”
    She sighed. “I don’t know. We’re supposed to be passionate lovers—but I…I just freeze up, and then it’s…it’s really awkward.”
    “So ask him out for dinner,” I suggested. “Get to know him a little more away from the movie.”
    “What, just me and him?”
    “You just need to break the ice a little.”
    “What if he thinks it’s a date?”
    I shrugged, but something in that idea made my blood start flowing faster. “Let him think that if he wants,” I said, but my mouth suddenly felt terribly dry. “If it gets the chemistry going between you two.”
    She gave me a little look, that look of incomprehension at why I would volunteer my own wife for a date with a Hollywood superstar.
    “And you’d be okay with that? Me going on some kind of date with my co-star?”
    I nodded, tried to act calm though the butterflies were starting up in my stomach. “What’s the problem? I trust you.”
    “Well okay…but if he thinks he’s getting something out of me that he’s plainly not…that might spoil things between us, don’t you think?”
    “So string it out—flirt with him, tease him, but delay any actual rejection of him until…well, until you need to.”
    The next night after the cameras stopped rolling, she’d done exactly what I’d suggested—asking her co-star out for a nice meal to try to get to know him. What should have been a fairly ordinary business meeting for my wife took on a whole different level of importance for me, because of the way she’d described it as a “date”. I knew there were different meanings for that word, different levels of emphasis. For one person “date” could be simply a night out in the company with anyone. For another person it was another way of saying “sex”.
    That evening I sat at home trembling a little, one moment scared that I was going to lose my sweet wife to this legend of a co-star of