Page 7 of Doctor’s Forbidden Match

“Where did you want me to pull up?”

I point across the road. “The white trailer there.”

He parks beside it. Through the tinted windows, I can already see a handful of people wandering around the construction site. Crew members in their familiar black t-shirts and baseball caps, contractors with tool belts, and unfortunately, a photographer with a long-lens camera pointed directly at the car.

My stomach bottoms out. Of course, they followed me here. I knew it was inevitable, but I’d hoped for at least a few days before the tabloids found me.

I slip out of the car, keeping my head down. “Thanks, Channing.”

I wave goodbye while avoiding the camera lense that follows my every move. As I hurry up the metal stairs, the steps clang under my feet before I push open the trailer door.

Inside, three women turn to look at me. The space is narrow but efficient. Bright lights frame a large mirror, and a makeup station is covered with brushes and products neatly organized.

I extend a hand as I approach, trying to project confidence I don’t entirely feel. First impressions matter, and I need these women on my side. “Hi, I’m Hannah.”

“I’m Mia.” One woman smiles warmly and clasps my hand with both of hers. She’s in her early thirties, with shoulder-length brown hair and laugh lines around her brown eyes. Recognition sparkles there, but it’s genuine warmth, not the starstruck gawking I sometimes get, or worse, barely concealed judgement. “I’m your hairdresser.”

“Nice to meet you, Mia.” Movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention.

“I’m Jaina. Your makeup artist.” She steps forward and shakes my hand with a firm grip. She’s younger, maybe late twenties, hair pulled into a low bun, and her French nails are clearly professionally done. Her face is beautifully made up with pink cheeks, subtle liner, and flawless skin.

The third woman steps forward, her brown ponytail swishing with every step. “I’m Karyn, your assistant.”

“Oh, Karyn. I was emailing you?”

She nods enthusiastically, and I’m immediately struck by how genuine she seems. No pretense or fakeness. Just a woman in her early thirties, wearing a crew t-shirt and sneakers, excited to be here.

“Yes, that’s me. Your green tea and honey will be here any minute. I wanted it hot for you.”

“Thanks, Karyn. That would be perfect.” Relief washes over me. These women seem kind, not the type to sell stories to tabloids or post behind-the-scenes photos for likes or money—like has happened to me in the past.

I sink into the chair facing the mirror and let them take over.

Mia moves around me, running her fingers through my hair. “God, your hair is so soft.”

“Thanks. It’s thin, though.”

Jaina stands in front of me and begins rubbing cool lotion into my face with gentle, circular motions. The early morning catches up with me and my eyelids grow heavy since I was up early going over lines. I force them open and decide to get to know these women who’ll be seeing me at my worst for the next eight weeks.

“Are you all local?” I ask.

“Yes, I own the salon in town,” Mia says, sectioning my hair with practiced ease. “M1 Hair Salon on Stanton Street.”

“Do you have staff to cover the salon while you help me every day on set?”

“Yes, I’ve got two stylists and a junior who can handle things. I didn’t want to lose the chance.” She works her hands through my hair as if she’s assessing it. “It’s not like a lot happens here.”

“Why not?” I frown. This seems like a lovely mid-size town, with tree-lined streets, charming storefronts, and friendly people. Not somewhere I could live permanently because I like my lifestyle and work in LA. My career momentum is there. But I can appreciate this place without being able to actually live here.

“Usually, production companies look for bigger, more popular towns with more dramatic transformations. You know, the whole dying downtown revitalization angle.”

“It makes sense from a ratings perspective, but it’s nice to bring some exposure to our town and our businesses,” Jaina says as she runs her foundation brush over my forehead with featherlight precision. “Jeff from the motel already told me they’ve had people calling from out of state asking about availability.”

“That’s amazing.” I smile, pleased to hear that. “I was actually wondering if there are stores with everyday clothes around here. Do you have any suggestions? Everything I packed is a little too…” I gesture at my outfit.

Jaina pauses the brush and pulls back, meeting my eyes in the mirror, hers widening slightly. “You brought clothes with you, though, right?”

I laugh. “I did, but everything I packed screams ‘I don’t live here’, and I’d like to fit in while I’m on set, you know? Plus, I want to buy some things for my friends and family back home. Stuff they can’t get in LA.”